Forever Plus-One: Pies at Night
Against her better judgement, Darcy decided to bake a pie for no reason when she got home from work. She was trying this new thing out — doing something unplanned and with no hesitation. She also had a sudden craving for pie while sitting in traffic and listening to an episode of Brené Brown’s podcast. And while this pie making session was unplanned, Darcy always kept her fridge and pantry stocked with just what she always needed, for whatever she wanted to make. As she finished rolling the dough, her mind began to wander to the last few days of her life. She was doing well, not really thinking about Roy and the silence that now filled her home. And she was only doing well because work was taking over every part of her brain and heart.
“Focus on the pie, Darcy,” She whispered to herself in the same way her grandmother, Nann said. She always said that you had to make this pie in the quiet, and alone so you could focus. Darcy hated to be in silence, so she put on some classical music — no words to distract her, therefore a happy compromise. She pinched the sides of the dough, her small fingers looking like her grandmother’s. She poured the sweet filling, the apples fell dramatically in the pie dish, moving and dancing in the sugary lake. She held her breath as she perfectly latticed the dough, creating the straightest lines she’d ever done. Exhaling softly, she stepped back to admire her masterpiece and whispered, “that’s what I’m talking about, Darce.”
She opened a bottle of champagne and poured a glass, staring at the bubbles that rose to the top but never spilled over. With the first sip, she smiled, grabbed her phone from her purse, and settled on her green velvet couch. Just as she did every night, she turned on Netflix and resumed the last episode of The Office she watched last night. As Michael Scott called the office in a panic because he burned his foot on the George Foreman Grill, Darcy scrolled on her phone, double tapping on photos on her Instagram feed. She stopped to comment on Charlie’s latest post — a photo of herself training for a marathon.
I see you getting your miles in! Proud of you!
Darcy kept scrolling and almost choked on her champagne when she saw a photo of Roy with a woman, a white woman, kissing his cheek. The caption read, “New adventures.”
She placed the glass on the marble coaster and adjusted her glasses. She couldn’t have been seeing this. It had been two weeks, if that. Who was this woman? And she’s white? She immediately took a screenshot, finished her glass of champagne, and sent the photo to her group chat with Charlie and Simone. No other message was necessary. Just the photo would be enough to set off alarms.
Simone: Well, this nigga moves on fast. You good?
Charlie: A white…girl…whatever you do, don’t go Googling her. Let that shit and him GOOOOOOO.
Simone: She’s not answering. She’s Googling…
Darcy was already on her Instagram page as the texts came through and she already had the bottle of champagne on the coffee table, ignoring the glass and just drinking from the bottle. If she was going to do down a rabbit hole of her ex’s “new adventure,” she needed fuel. She had fifteen minutes left on the timer for her pie and that was just enough time to learn that her name was Mia Christophe , and she was from New Orleans and she was an interior designer. She had a perfectly curated Instagram, the grid only containing shades of pale blue, gray, and white, and Roy definitely didn’t fit into that grid. They have three mutual friends — Roy, Tracy, a friend from high school, and the same cheese shop Darcy went to on a weekly basis.
“Not my cheese shop,” Darcy whispered and put the bottle to her lips. She was careful to swallow gently to avoid the bubbles from jumping out her nose.
Simone: So, what’d you find?
Darcy: We go to the same cheese shop.
Charlie: Oh boy…not your beloved cheese shop. Maybe this is God’s way of saying stop buying expensive cheese with your lactose intolerant ass!
Darcy: She’s really pretty, y’all, and perfect. Look at her!
Darcy sent them a screenshot of Mia holding a latte on Magazine Street with the caption “Wake up and smell the coffee, babes!”
Simone: Oh, hell no, that’s it.
Darcy’s phone started to ring and she hesitated to answer because she didn’t want to hear what Simone had to say. She knew exactly what she was going to say. So, she let it ring and go to voicemail.
Simone: Bitch, answer this phone or I’m driving to the suburbs. Never mind, I’m on my way.
Ten minutes later, Simone was at her front door, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a shirt without a bra.
“Simone, you didn’t need to come,” Darcy said, letting her in the house with the champagne bottle still in her hand. “I’m good.”
“Then why didn’t you answer my phone call?” Simone asked, throwing her keys, phone, and wallet on the kitchen island. “Are you OK?”
“I’m good!” she said. “I didn’t answer because I already knew what you were going to say.”
“And now your ass gets to hear it face to face. Fuck that nigga, fuck that bitch, you are gorgeous and brilliant and were way too good for him and you know it. He met you drinking Henny. You do not drink Henny, girl. You drink champagne,” she said, pointing to the bottle in her hand. “And you bake pies on random nights, and you love hard and you deserve someone who can handle that. He couldn’t and he’s gone. And that’s the best thing that could have happened to you.”
“Then why do I still feel sad? How did he move on so quickly?” Darcy asked, holding back tears. She never could handle Simone’s straight-shooter pep talks. Simone sighed and grabbed the bottle from Darcy’s soft grip. She placed it on the island.
“Because you haven’t a man leave you since the late 2000s, babe. Your entire adulthood included him, and now, your 30s are going to be without him. And that’s OK. I mean, look at all the things you can do now. You can finally have your hoe phase! You always wanted to do that!” Simone said, smiling.
“No, you always wanted me to have a hoe phase. You and I both know I would have a disastrous hoe phase,” she said.
She sucked her teeth and chuckled, glancing up, probably imaging the disaster that Darcy’s one-night-stands would be. Darcy always wondered what it would be like to have sex with someone other than Roy. He was great in bed, or so she thought –she really didn’t have much to compare it to. He satisfied her and she satisfied him, and that was that. But always in the back of her mind, she wondered what it would be like to make love to another man and allow a man to learn his way around the body she’d known her whole life.
“You’re right,” Simone said shaking her head. “You are so right. But you’ll get over him. And you’ll get up under another man sooner than you think.”
“I don’t know. I think I should try this single thing out for a while. See if I can stop being so high strung for a second,” she said.
“Please don’t do that. We need you to be the high strung one of the group. Without you, how would be know where to be and when to be there and the dress code? How? Tell me how?”
“You have to admit that I can be too much sometimes. I mean, I make people take their shoes off in my house!”
“Darcy, you’re not the first person to do that. It’s an Asian tradition and also, so what if you’re too much? I’ve never known you to be anything less than that. Being ‘too much,’ that’s you. You always do the most and we love you for that. He didn’t, and that’s on him. Don’t go changing for that insecure sack of crusty balls.”
“His balls weren’t crusty,” she said laughing.
“Yeah, you would know, huh?” she said, smirking. “Give me your phone.”
“No, I know what you’re going to do,” she shook her head. “If you block him, he’ll know and it’ll cause more problems and I don’t need that.”
She grabbed Darcy’s phone from the coffee table and plopped down on the sofa. “I’m not blocking. I’m unfollowing. There’s no reason for you to keep up with him. Let him live his life with Karen so you can live your life.” She held the phone up to Darcy’s face to unlock it and she tapped softly on the screen. “There. Done. Now, I’m going home, but first I need a slice of pie. I love your pies and I’m going to eat this slice of pie in my bed without pants. Winnie the Pooh that shit.”
“Fine,” Darcy said, cutting her a slice and putting it in one of her containers she didn’t mind parting with. She knew she would never get this container back.
“You’re going to be fine, girl. And next time, answer my damn phone call and don’t make me drive to this white ass neighborhood at night again,” she hugged her and as they walked to the door, she turned around one more time. “I love you, Darcy, and I know you. You will survive this.”
Darcy shook her head and hugged her. She didn’t close the door to cry again until her car was fully out of the driveway.
