Common Law

"Okay, you got her right riled up, what did you say?"

Her sudden appearance makes me drop my book. "She didn't seem too bad..." I begin, but Whitney cuts me off.

"I heard her yelling through the wall we share, you can't convince me it's 'not too bad'. And she wasn't yelling AT Sam, so you obviously didn't tell her he was peeping on you."

Why did I have to drop the book? I could really use something between me and her right now. "I mayyyy have toldherwe'recommonlawmarried." I blurt out. Whitney gives me her most incredulous look.

"You what now?"

I take a deep breath, feeling like I might start hyperventilating if I don't "I told her she can't get married because we're common law married." To my surprise, Whitney actually laughs.

"You're a riot Lauren!" But just as quickly as it came, the laughter dies. "Oh. You're serious. You actually said that? Oh shit. What the fuck?" Whitney's eyes widen as she talks. "You don't actually believe that do you?"

I curl up, hugging my knees in front of me heat flushing my cheeks. "Well, we kinda do actually fit a lot of the criteria, and I was so mad about Sam that I just went for it." Whitney's face goes from incredulous, to cross, back to incredulous again.

"Well, you've really started something Lauren. I hope this doesn't end our little group. I can't even bring myself to be mad at you, but that might be the wine talking. Get some sleep, you're gonna need it."

Chapter 6 -- Arguments, 2nd Edition

My heart rate climbs as I pull into my parking space. It had been a long, lonely drive home, most of which had been spent dreading the upcoming moment. "All right Lauren," I whisper to myself like a crazy person. "Just gotta go in there in and take it."

I take a deep breath and try and get out of the car, but find myself in the exact same spot as before. "Okay, Step one: let go of steering wheel." My white-knuckled grip relaxed, agonizingly slowly. "Okay good job. Next step is taking off your seat belt. After that, we'll cover not talking to yourself like a lunatic."

Eventually I extract myself and walk to the front door. My breath quickens. Here goes nothing The door swings open when I pull, and I pull myself inside. When I look up from taking off my shoes Jess is there, a frown on her face.

My heart rate skyrockets, and so does my breathing. "Jess I-"

****

I find myself on our couch, a very concerned Jess hovering over me "Oh, thank god you're awake. What just happened?"

I groan and twist on the couch, shoulder throbbing. Probably hit it on the way down. "I don't know. I've never fainted before." My stomach rumbles angrily me, and I feel a pang of hunger.

"When was the last time you ate?"

I stare at the ceiling, unable to meet her eyes. "Uhm.... Like, I guess that was last night huh."

I hear Jess slap her forehead and walk away. "You're lucky you didn't crash your car!," She huffs at me from the kitchen. A granola bar suddenly flies over the couch back and thwacks me square in the stomach. "Eat that, then we'll talk. Just because you fainted doesn't mean I'm not still angry at you."

I inspect the projectile, and hungrily stuff it in my mouth. Even though Jess is angry at me, she still threw my favorite over here. I don't deserve her. Maybe there's some hope for this yet.

I sit up slowly, trying avoid another embarrassing encounter with the floor. Jess walks around to sit in the recliner chair opposite the couch, arms crossed and the frown back on her face.

"Now that you're not about to pass out, I want to know one thing. Why do you think we're common law married? I looked it up online, the seven years thing is a myth, and most states don't even have it. So is this some sort of prank, or are you serious?"

I suppress my typical smart-ass instinctual response to reply that she had actually asked two questions. Now's no time for jokes. "Well, it's because we fit so many of the criteria. I know the years is a myth, but Colorado has them."

"Well then, what are these 'criteria?'" Jessica motions with over the top air quotes.

"Well, uh," I stutter a little bit, nothing like being put on the sport.."People thought we were dating," I start off, somewhat lamely.

"Oh yeah and who was that?," Jessica replies, sounding a bit smug to my ears.

"Joe did for a long time, and so did Whitney and Dean when they met us.

That fact seems to knock some of the wind out of Jessica, she must not have known either. "They did? But..." She trails off, as her face turned red.

"Also, we've taken every vacation together since who knows when," I add, gathering steam. You've been dating Sam for two years and still live with me."

Jess's eyes grow wider with each statement. "That's, I mean that's not that unusual," she stutters.

"And," I keep pushing, "You've even put me down as your emergency contact on a surgery form! Remember when you were getting your IUD and you didn't want your parents to know! And do you remember what you got me for my last birthday? A ring!" I hold up my hand, which has a delicate gold ring she'd given me, that I've worn every day since then.

"Ohhhh fuck." There's silence between us for a long moment. "Soooo I guess I can't talk you out of this?"

I shake my head sadly. She massages her temples, a habit when one of her frequent headaches is in its opening act. "But why are you saying this now?" She asks, her voice suddenly tired.

I decide I need to tell the truth. "Because of your engagement. I loathe Sam. He's everything you don't need in your life, and you've been overlooking his faults for god knows what reason. He's the latest on a train of increasingly shitty man-children!" I realize I'm shouting at this point.

That finally seems to galvanize Jess's temper as well. "And you've been nothing but a negative drag on our relationship since we met! You're just jealous that I met someone!," She yells back. At this point they we're both standing, Jess's hands are curled into fists.

"Jealous?," I bark out an incredulous laugh. "I'm scared! Scared that I'm going to lose my best friend to a peeping, creeping, drunken trust fund baby!"

Jess opens her mouth to shout a retort, then closes it again. "Peeping?" she asks me softly.

"Oh, did your walking dick not tell you?," I realize I probably should go easier on her, but I can't help the caustic tone I'm using. "He walked in on me changing the other day and made sure to take a nice long look. How's that for holy matrimony?"

The color drained from her face. "Oh no," she whispers, the room suddenly silent. "I'm sorry Lauren, that's..." She never finishes the sentence. We stand motionless, each afraid to look the other in the eye.

"I need some time to think about all this. I, I think I'm going to stay with my parents. I need some space." Jess walks off with a glassy look in her eyes, and I collapse back into the couch. We've been roommates for eight years, and never once argued like that. I feel nauseous.

Not fifteen minutes after the door had shut behind Jessica, there came a knock. I tiptoe over to the peephole, and spot our next door neighbor Reggie. I open the door cautiously, just a crack. "Hey Reggie, uh, what's up?"

"I just wanted to check on y'all, I heard some shouting earlier. Arguing with the Missus?" Oh my god, maybe I am right. I don't have the heart to correct him, so I just nod meekly.

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that, I'm sure you'll work it out eventually though. Well, if you'd like to forget about it for awhile, Justine is over and we were planning on playing some cards if you're interested." His face is honest and open, and I feel so totally drained that I don't have it in me to say no.

"I guess I can. Thanks Reggie."

Chapter 7 -- Moping About

I overslept on Monday. I've gotten so used to Jess's morning workout routine waking me up that the lack of it threw me off. The day doesn't get any better, slogging through blackberry bushes to take measurements is rarely a good time.

As I eat dinner covered in scratches, something's bothering me. It feels too quiet in the room, despite the blaring rerun of Seinfeld. I realize I'm not laughing either, despite it being all-time favorite episode. I poke my food around my plate, while avoiding the obvious answer. I miss Jess. A lot.

"Oh god, what did I do?," I mumble. So much for losing the self conversations. The scratches on my legs throb in sympathy, leaving me questioning my life choices. "Why did I do that? Was I just drunk the whole time?" Regrets flood my head. Jess's absence is a crushing void, and I feel lonelier than I have since I met her.

A chilling thought grips me and I reach for my computer. I should apologize. I should tell her that I don't really mean it. Even though I don't want her to be with Sam. That's the right thing to do right? Communication is key, that's what Dad always said, and he and Mom have been together forever. Even if we never talk much. Okay, here we go.

I open up Facebook and begin typing. It's an ugly mess of words, full of typos, but it feels good to write. Luckily, I'm a firm believer in proofreading messages. "Oh no, that won't do at all," I mutter. What had been intended as an apology turned out to be a rambling sob story including calling Sam some form of 'asshole' no less than three times.

"Ohhhkaayyy. Maybe don't write this somewhere it could get sent on accident." Deleting the lengthy message, I open up a word doc instead. Dear Jessica,... I begin writing again.

Nearly an hour later, and I'm no closer to a real apology than before. I angrily slam the computer shut, and turn off the tv. A face of utter misery greets me on the black reflective screen, and I have to look away.

Instead, I look around the rest of the room Wow, we do kind of look like a married couple. There's pictures of us on vacation in Mexico, New York, New Orleans. In one of them, we're smushed up against each other, sharing a drink. In another, I'm giving Jess a piggyback ride at the beach. We're smiling like idiots in both, and I being close to her.

I sigh loudly. I'm such an idiot. I thought I might lose my friend over a boy, so now I'm almost certainly going to lose my friend over a boy. Great going. I reach for my laptop again.

*****

I pick at the remnants of my fries, trying to decide if the food coma would be worth a few more bites of salty, crispy, goodness. "Oh just eat them," Joe says exasperatedly. "You're just going to want them later if you don't." I sigh. He's right of course. I eye my half finished beer as well.

"Looks like it's a wounded soldier tonight."

Whitney snorts. "It's a wounded soldier for you every other night. You don't like beer that much do you?"

I shrug, then swallow the mouthful of fries I'd just crammed into my mouth. "It's more that I like food more. Nothing like a good burger and some fries to pick you up."

Dean nods happily along with my statement, his double order not even close to done, and his stomach clearly not full.

"Well, now that you've had your pick me up, I'm going to bring the mood back down." Whitney turns a look on me that makes me shrivel up in my seat. "Why on earth did do it?" I put my head in my hands, elbows propped up against the table. I figured it was going to happen, but I'd hoped to make a quick exit to avoid it.

Welll?" Joe chimes in. "We wanna know!"

"Because Sam is such a fucking dick!," I snap back, still not looking up. "I can't let my best friend marry someone who's a giant sleazeball. Everything about him is gross, from the day-drinking, to the snooty racist golf course he has a membership with."

"Tell me how you really feel," Whitney kicks back dryly. "We get that, but we didn't exactly claim we were married to her either. I blame you for this." She directs her last sentence at Joe.

"Hey, it's not my fault, just because I brought it up in the car. She might have thought of it on her own. Or maybe she wouldn't have and would have just ran him over in the driveway. You should be thanking me, I prevented a murder," he cracks back jokingly.

"Why didn't you guys do anything huh?," I ask them. A small kernel of anger is forming in my gut. "Why am I the only one who's trying to help her out of a relationship that will never work long term?" I pull my head out of my hands, and see three guilty faces at the table. My guilt trip reversal seeming to have surprised them.

"It, uh, seemed like those arguments were kinda played out," Joe responds first.

"I didn't want to be a debbie downer, right after the proposal," Whitney admits. "I thought it wasn't the right time." She follows that statement up with another pointed look at me.

This time, I'm not going to back down from her though. "I wasn't going to do anything until that creep ogled me. I'm sure you'd feel different if you were the one he walked in on." Whitney nods slightly, acknowledging the point. Apparently, Whitney hadn't mentioned the encounter to Joe or Dean, as evidenced by their aghast faces.

"Ugh, what a creep," Joe shudders in his seat. "Why didn't you lock the door?"

"I thought I had." A long silence overtakes the table, interrupted only when the waiter comes by to ask if we want more beer.

"So," Joe finally breaks the silence. "Do you really believe you're common law married? How far are you willing to go with it?"

I shrug. "Well, it is a thing in Colorado for starters. But I'd have to go through a lot of court battles to prove it." I can tell I'm blushing from the heat rising to my face.

"Well, that's one of the more informative ways I've ever heard someone dodge a question." Whitney points out. "Are you going to try and prove it in court? That seems expensive. And do you actually believe it yourself?"

My head fins its way back into my hands. "I don't know. Probably not. I don't think I could afford it, and if I haven't ended our friendship already, that would certainly do it. Maybe we qualify, maybe we don't. There's definitely some aspects of our friendship that fall more into relationship territory, but she's also been dating Sam for awhile."

As I say it, it feels like another weight is set on my chest. I need to write that apology. And make it a real good one. I'm such a such a fucking idiot. "Aw, you 'kay there?" Whitney clearly had noticed my mood change, and pokes my leg under the table with her own.

"Sorry."

"Listen up girl," Whitney continues. "I'm going to stay neutral in this one. I want to stay friends with you both. But I am rooting for you to help her dump Sam. I know that sounds harsh, but that's where I need to be." I'm not exactly surprised Whitney's going to stay out of it, but I still could use some support. "Now that I've suitably crushed the mood, do you want dessert? My treat for bringing up the subject." She's clearly done with the conversation, and I think I am too.

Joe however, isn't quite ready to give it up. "You know, now that you mention it, I think a lot of your friendship was in 'relationship territory'. You guys did everything together." I catch Whitney giving him the side-eye.

"Joe, you are such an awkward butt. Let's just eat dessert and forget about it for a while."

He looks sheepish, but I can tell the gears are still turning. Well, at least I get a milkshake out of this.

Chapter 8 -- Meet up

My insides are churning as I wait for Jess. I'd sent my apology message after numerous rewrites, and she'd agreed to meet at the brewery next to our apartment. I check my phone again, she's a minute late so far. What's probably seconds feels like hours, each tick of the clock hand an eternity. In reality only five minutes pass before she shows.

"Uh, hey," is all I manage as she slips into the booth across from me.

"Hi." We sit in silence for awhile, neither quite looking at each other.

"Drinks Ladies? Perhaps an appetizer?" My head snaps over to the waiter who has appeared out of nowhere.

"Let's get some fries. Biggest size you've got." Jessica responds quickly. "I'll have a Gin and tonic please." He scribbled down the order and turns to me.

"I'll uh have a Moscow mule."

We're alone again. I take a deep breath, and gather my courage. "Hey so, uh, I'm sorry. I guess I just have really bad timing." The heat in my cheeks is fierce, and I know Jess can tell I'm embarrassed. As well as probably everyone else who cares to glance over.

I'm spared a response by the arrival of our drinks and fries, and the sweet bliss of crispy, greasy potatoes settles my nerves, at least a little bit. I find some more courage and look Jess in the eyes when after a few long sips of my mule. "I'm sorry Jess. I wasn't trying to hurt you."

She smiles, a sad sort of melancholy smile. "I know Laur. I don't want our friendship to end over this either. You're my best friend. We do everything together, and I don't want this to change the way we do things."

I meet her eyes again. Her expression is so sincere it makes my heart ache. How could I have done something so hurtful to my very closest friend? It was so incredibly selfish of me -- sure, I want Jess to have someone who isn't toxic to date long term, but I could have at least waited until after the celebration!

My thought process is cut off by the waiter arriving for a drink refill, and I realize we'd just been staring into each other's eyes for quite some time. I shake my head, trying to recenter. "Did we just..." Jessica spoke hesitantly. "Do we wanna talk about what just happened or move on?"

I find my seat suddenly uncomfortable, and my face feels like I have bad sunburn. "Uh, let's move on." we glance about awkwardly for another moment. "So uh, are you still planning a wedding?," I ask, trying to play it off casually.

"I'm..." Jessica trails off. "I'm trying. It's still in the early stages." She smiles wryly, her eyes reflecting what looks to me like frustration.

"I get that," I reply, trying to not sound accusatory.

After our main courses arrived, the topic finally turns to something other than our arguments. "I don't think I ever showed you this one," Jessica flips through patterns for a new hat she wants to knit, and shows me one. "I think the brim makes it look really cute, and it'll keep the sun out of my eyes!" I scooched around the table to see, and found myself leaning against Jess's shoulder. It's just like old times.

"I don't know Jess, the brim could look kinda dorky, at least on most people. I'm sure you could pull it off though. What color are you going to do?"

She flicks my shoulder. "It doesn't look dorky it's cute! You'll see when it's done. Also, I was thinking lavender."

They were interrupted in their conversation by the return of the waiter. "How's the food ladies?" We exchanged glances, then both look over at our nearly untouched plates.

"It's good," Jessica responds after a momentary pause.

"Great," The waiter smiles. "If you two need anything else, just flag me down. And don't worry about the tab either. Someone who wants to remain anonymous is covering your bill, and wanted me to pass on this." He hands Jessica a note written on a crumpled piece of paper.

Baffled, we look first at each other, then around the room. There are no clues of course -- no one is paying us any attention, the same as the many times we'd eaten here before. "Well?"

Jess opens the paper up, taking care not to rip the weak points. "I just wanted to do something nice for you two," she reads out slowly. "You're such a cute couple, and the love you share is obvious to see. Enjoy your evening and pay it forward." Her face turned crimson, and I'm sure mine is some unspeakable color of red as well.

"Oh... Okayyyy then." I focus back on my plate and start eating slowly. Is this like a prank? I glance around the room, looking for someone I recognize. Is Whitney or Joe in here? I guess they could have sent Dean.... My search is in vain, there's no one I even remotely recognize. Jess is also silent, eating her food slowly. When I finish my ocular look around, I take a quick peek at Jess, and find her staring into space, chewing thoughtfully.