Curtains or blinds?

Charlotte decided work was slow today. Slow enough to warrant a glass of Pinot Grigio or two at the wine bar on the corner. Slow enough that she somehow stumbles into the Chanel next door and buys a pair of new shoes. She points and nods to her favorite associate with enthusiasm, and within minutes, the bag handle meets her palm. “See you soon!” the employee chatters. Her feet get heavier as she leaves the store and approaches her apartment door. Well, apartment door is humble. Her townhouse door. She lingers outside, pretends to get a phone call, pretends to take photos of the trees, and then she decides to have another glass of wine. Chardonnay this time. “Leave it open!” she calls to the waitress before downing the rest and pushing her chair in. Her feet now dragging, luckily not in her new heels.

Her keys stumble into the door, her shopping bag falling off the crook of her elbow and banging into the wood, announcing her arrival without intention. “Charlotte! You’re home a little early today, lovely!” Rebecca calls from around the corner.

“Yup! Lovely.” Charlotte mocks her from afar, nose scrunched with sneered miming. Her heels clack against the marble as her purse drops with a thud in the middle of the foyer.

“Come in! I want to show you the updates so far.”

Charlotte obliges, her eyes rolling as she slides into the parlor room.

Sunlight peaks through a sliver of open curtain, a curtain that is 2 inches too narrow, a curtain that is 2 inches too short. “Are these final sale?” Charlotte asks Rebecca, her lacquered black clipboard in hand. “They were custom, so they are returnable but not refundable. Why? They are what you asked for?”

“If they are custom…why don’t they fall to the floor or cover the whole window?”

“That’s what you requested.”

“No, it is not.”

“My apologies, but it is. Your husband also-”

“My husband?” Charlotte’s eye begins to quiver as she notices the lacy strap of Rebecca’s bra.

“He gave me the measurements.” Rebecca tucks her strap away and clears her throat, but she can’t control the shake dancing in her voice or the fact that she didn’t fix her lipstick.

Charlotte can’t help but laugh as she watches Rebecca swallow down a gulp so painfully obvious she can almost make out her nonexistent adams apple.

“I’m sorry, I thought-” Rebecca pretends to look at her notes, notes that have nothing to do with the curtains, notes that include the blueprints Charlotte doesn’t know about. Notes that smell like real leather, scotch, and cigars.

“What’s the matter in here?” Frank walks in with cognac loafers, scotch glass in hand, sunlight shining against the etchings.

“Why did you give her incorrect measurements?”

“I guessed, it’s close enough, no?” He takes a sip, but he didn’t guess. He measured down to the centimeter.

“Close enough! It doesn’t even do the basic job of blocking light. How is that close enough?”

“It’s just curtains, sweetie, it’s okay.” Frank tilts his head down at her, with a curve of the lip.

“I can sell them back to the company for a lower price and get them redone and take the difference out of my pay! Problem solved?” Rebecca begins to vigorously write on her printed spreadsheet, the vein in her head protruding as she glances at Frank and then Charlotte for affirmation.

“No, she can deal with it, right, honey?”

“Right! Right, because they are just curtains.”

“Because they are just curtains.”

“Frank, honey, sweetie, my darling. I would like to return these curtains, and maybe even never buy curtains again! Or, maybe I just don’t want to see these curtains ever again.”

“Well, that is ridiculous. You need curtains. They add a lot to a home, plus they have an important job.”

“True, but could blinds not do the same job? Right, Rebecca?”

“Right! We could do blinds.” Rebecca pans to Charlotte, her eyes not leaving for Franks, though they call to her, like they always do.

“See! We could do blinds.”

“And you could do flats.” Frank snickers, Rebecca still staring at Charlotte.

“Flats? You are the fashion police now, too. huh. Curious.”

“I know there are heels in that bag.”

“Rebecca, you may go.” She immediately nods and begins to speedwalk out before Frank’s arm extends to halt her exit.

“No, stay, please.”

“Ok! Yes, there are heels in this bag. I like heels. How is that relevant to curtains?” Charlotte’s head bobs back and forth, her words slipping and sliding out of her lips.

“I am just saying that shoes are shoes, you don’t need to wear heels, but you like to. Just like curtains and blinds both do the same job, but one is more appealing.”

“Sure! Sure. More appealing. It’s just these curtains are really letting me down again, just like the last pair I bought that were a little too big, and now these are too small.”

“What if we keep these curtains and add blinds?”

“We could do that,” Rebecca notes.

“Oh! Can we, Rebecca? I didn’t know that!!” Charlotte drops the shopping bag on the ground as she throws her hands in the air, but then she tilts her head and smirks in resolution.

“I’ll do curtains and blinds, if I can do flats and heels.”

“Since when do you want flats AND heels?” Frank sets, no, slams, his glass down on a side table. Rebecca jumps ever so slightly.

“Since two minutes ago. Actually, I’m gonna go buy a pair of flats right now!” Charlotte’s voice belting as she jaunts out of the room back to the front door. Rebecca looks at Frank face-to-face before she watches the back of his blazer follow Charlotte, calling out for her. “Wait, just wait! Charlotte, come on.” A single tear falls onto Rebecca’s cheek, and then her clipboard. She dashes to the stairs, skipping steps to get to his office. She searches for a piece of paper and finds sticky notes instead, perfect. Her pen clicks through the echoes of argument below, pick the heels, and she’ll pick the curtains. She slaps the note on his computer screen, and under it, another note, I quit.