It isn't dark yet when I arrive at Lou's cabin for the third time in as many days, in the sense that the sun hasn't set, but there is an ominousness about the sky. The gray clouds are heavy and low and it started raining a couple of hours ago. Nothing torrential, a pretty pathetic spitting really, but it's a sign of what's to come. I pull my shabby car in next to Lou's immaculate Toyota, a blue so dark it looks like midnight, so clean it looks like it's never been driven. Especially around here, where half the roads are little more than dirt tracks and the birds nesting in the trees are constantly dropping shit bombs.

It's seven o'clock on the dot when I knock on the door. From somewhere inside the house I hear the chime of a clock and then the shrill ring of an alarm and when Lou opens the door, there are wisps of orange hair sticking to her forehead, the rest scooped into a quick bun. Beneath her apron she's wearing jeans and a blouse and it hits me that I never checked if there was a dress code, dinner could mean anything. I'm wearing the playsuit she gave me with my nicest shoes, a pair of my mom's old Birkenstocks that I borrowed enough times that they molded to fit my feet and she told me to keep them.

"Charlotte, hi," she says, glancing at her watch as she ushers me in and gives me a one-armed hug. An oven glove hangs from her other hand.

"We did say seven, right?"

"God, yes, sorry, I'm just so used to my friends being chronically late. I tell Jules seven, she hears half past. Come in, come in."

The whole house smells incredible, the aroma of food building as I follow Lou into the kitchen. I slip my Birkenstocks off by the door, using my toe to nudge them into line, and I feel incredibly naked. All I'm wearing is the playsuit, which comes to halfway down my thighs, and having bare feet feels weird even though I painted my toenails especially for this.

"You don't have to take your shoes off," Lou says. She must sense my discomfort. "I just don't like wearing shoes in general, feel free to keep yours on. Or"—her eyes drop to my feet—"you could borrow some socks if you want?"

I slip my feet back into my sandals and perch on the edge of the window seat. "Can I help with anything?"

"Nope, it's under control. You just caught me right as I was putting the salmon in the oven."

"What is it? It smells divine."

"Divine, huh?" She chuckles. "Not a word I often hear when it comes to my cooking." Apron untied, she drapes it over the oven handle and pulls the tie out of her hair, shaking it out with her hands. "It's salmon in pomegranate molasses and lime juice, with couscous and quinoa and steamed vegetables. Red pepper, asparagus, and snap peas."

"Whoa. You told me you don't cook!"

"I don't like to cook when it's just me in the house," she corrects, twisting the screw cap off a bottle of white wine. "I love to cook for my friends." As she pours a glass for herself, she holds one out to me and asks, "Want a drink?"

"I'm all right, thanks. Not really a wine person." What I don't say is that I got so trashed on white wine at a party my sophomore year of college that I can't drink it anymore without being bombarded by memories of throwing up all night and wasting the entire following day sleeping it off.

Lou opens a cupboard and says, "I have vodka and lime soda, if you'd prefer that?"

"Now you're talking." I grin and join her on the other side of the kitchen island and when she sets the vodka and soda down in front of me, I see that neither is open. They're both brand new, there's a crack as she twists off each cap. "Did you get this in just for me?"

"You had, like, four of these the other night. I figured it's your drink of choice."

"Thank you. That's really thoughtful," I murmur, watching as she pours a generous amount of vodka into a tumblr and tops it up with soda, and a squeeze of fresh lime leftover from her recipe.

"I'm aiming for top marks when you score my hosting at the end of the night," she says, adding a sprig of mint to finish it off. When she hands me my drink, she clinks her glass against mine before taking a sip. "Cheers."

*

Forty minutes later, Lou's friends are here and there's a fun, buzzy atmosphere. I'm on my second drink as Lou sets dishes in the middle of the table for us to serve ourselves and sits next to me. It isn't the only empty seat — there's one next to Julia, too, but Lou chooses me and I have to try really hard not to read too much into every tiny interaction that my crush-addled brain wants to turn into more.

I was half expecting Lou's friends to give me weird looks. To wonder why the hell they're having dinner with a twenty-four-year-old stranger, but she must have prepped them because they are nothing but warm and welcoming. Julia hugged everyone when she arrived five minutes ago, at seven forty, and I was no exception.

"So, everyone, this is Charlotte," Lou says once everyone has a plate in front of them. It's been a rush of activity since her friends turned up while she was steaming the vegetables and introductions fell by the wayside. "Her parents used to own the cabin next door."

My uncle really, I think, but the correction doesn't feel necessary.

"Charlotte, this is Talia." She indicates the bright-eyed Black woman on the other side of the table, whose short, tightly-curled hair is bleach blonde. Her earrings are giant purple pom poms that match her lipstick and the polka dots on her sweater. I think I love her. "She works at the boat club and she's my oldest friend," Lou continues. "We met in elementary school."

"And I haven't been able to shake her since," Talia finishes. Her soft voice doesn't match her broad laugh, the kind of laugh that can make other people laugh just by hearing it.

Lou rolls her eyes. She gestures to the woman sitting on the other side of me, a pale-skinned natural blonde with a round, make-up-free face and kind eyes, and says, "This is Kate. She's a teacher at Fisher High; we worked together for the past decade."

"Twelve years, actually. And then you decided to ditch us," Kate says, pointing with her fork. She tucks a lock of pin-straight hair behind her ear.

Lou ignores her, moving on to Julia. "You know Jules — she and her husband own Cafe Au Late, where I probably spend as much time as I do here."

"Nice to meet you all," I say, making an effort to sit straight and not shy away. I never used to shy away from people, until I grew up and the world forced me to feel shame and embarrassment and all these horrible, negative emotions that I was protected from in Fisher. Now that I'm back here, I want to get back to that version of me. I don't want to be awkward and embarrassed even though that has become second nature recently. "Sorry to crash your dinner."

"You're not crashing." Kate flaps a hand at me, a loaded fork in the other. "A friend of Lulu's is a friend of ours."

Julia sucks in a breath through her teeth. "God, Kate, you're brave," she whispers. My eyes are flicking around between the four of them like I'm watching a game of table tennis.

Lou's stare turns stony. She looks at me and says, "Don't get any ideas — I am not a Lulu."

"You really aren't." I study her. It may only be a repetition of her first name but it doesn't work at all. I can't imagine her as anything but Lou. Simple. Straightforward. "I don't even know what Lou is short for."

"Tallulah," Kate says, quick as a whip, right as Talia says, "Lucinda," and Jules joins in, claiming that Lou is actually Emmylou.

Lou sets down her knife and fork. She closes her eyes, massages her temples. "Good god," she mutters. Her friends snicker. I like them. "It's just Louisa."

"Oh." I turn the name around in my head, imagine mouthing it as I look at Lou. "Louisa. Yeah, that works. I like it. It suits you."

"Tallulah is cooler," Kate says.

"Then you should name your next cat that." There is no bite in Lou's bark, and I get the impression this is some kind of long running inside joke between the four of them.

"Louisa Carter," I say under my breath, tasting each syllable. I don't mean to. It just slips out.

"It's Lane."

"Hmm?"

"My last name. Lane. Not Carter," she says.

I don't know what to say to that. I don't know her history. Luckily Kate swoops in before the silence gets awkward and says, "You know what, I think I will. I was just starting to think that five cats isn't enough. Now, six, that's a nice round number." She leans closer to me and says, "Don't let anyone ever try to make you think that cat lady is an insult. I wear it like a badge of honor."

"I've never owned a cat," I admit, "but I can totally see myself becoming a cat lady. It's not like I plan to ever have kids but it'd be nice to have some company if I end up living alone."

"You're my kind of girl."

As we start to eat, Talia asks me what brings me to Fisher and what I've been up to since I was last here, and somehow the dinner becomes about me. I am the star of the show, being peppered with questions from the four women around me, and I find my confidence. It's been a while since I had an audience like this. Like when I was the ringleader of the cousins, people latching onto my every word.

Somehow it makes it easier to be honest. To dress it up as drama, as humor. When I mention being made redundant the same week Tay and Gaby announced they were going to be moving to California, I manage to twist it into a joke and they laugh, and I feel less shit about the whole situation. When I talk about my last-minute road trip, it sounds spontaneous and fun and not a desperate, last-ditch attempt to find some kind of purpose. I'm the last to finish my meal because I've done the most talking, on a roll once the right questions are asked, until my parents come up. Somehow for the first time this evening.

"I remember your family," Talia says. "There were so many of you, and your uncle Harry was a good customer. Always returned the boats in an even better condition than he took them in." Her elbows are on the table, her hands clasped together. "What're your parents up to these days?"

I'm out of food to push around my plate to give me time to consider an answer. "I don't really know," I say after a few stilted seconds. "They separated a few months ago. Like, completely out of nowhere. Now Mom's in South Dakota and Dad's in Arizona and we're kind of, uh, having a collective yet totally separate family breakdown?"

Way to kill the mood, Charlie. There's no way to pass this one off as a joke because there's no funny side. Not one that I can find.

"Sorry, hon," Kate says. She pats my hand. It's weirdly reassuring. "That must be rough."

"Yeah. The only thing I can think of is that maybe they've been hanging on until my youngest brother started college. It was like, the minute he'd completed the first couple semesters and he was settled in, they couldn't keep up the facade anymore and ... I guess I've been so angry and confused that I haven't really talked to either of them in months." I shrug helplessly. "I don't know what to say." To my parents and to the people in front of me, each searching my face for more to the story.

I should have another drink. I think my buzz is wearing off. I am losing control of the conversation and my thoughts.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Talia says. "Divorce is tough, trust me, but it's usually for the best."

"Mmm. Yeah, we'll see. Excuse me." I get up with my glass in hand and, as though I own this place, I go to the kitchen to make myself another vodka lime soda. I'm a little heavy handed with the vodka. Oh well. Lou bought it for me, right? I add a splash more and squeeze out the last of the lime with my hands. Which is how I discover I have several tiny cuts around my nail beds. "Fucking hell," I mutter to myself, twisting the faucet and sticking my hands under the tepid water.

"Hey."

Lou is behind me. When I turn around, she reaches out. Her fingers graze my elbow. "Are you okay?"

"Yup. Just wanted another drink."

The look on her face is too close to pity.

"I'm fine. I just don't know how to talk about my parents because they were the blueprint for love and happiness and I always wanted what they have but now it's imploded, like everything in my life right now." I take a swig of my drink. Fuck, it's strong. "But I am fine."

"Okay." She sighs. "For the record, I don't believe you."

"Okay."

Lou doesn't go away. She steps forward. Her arms drop to her sides. She holds them out. "Come here," she says. I fall into her embrace, let her wrap her arms around me, and I hold onto her like a life raft. I don't cry, that's not really my thing. If anything, I harrumph. Lou laughs. I feel the vibration against my chest. We're well-matched, height wise. She's probably three inches taller, my chin slotting onto her shoulder like it was meant to be there.

"Sorry for ruining the mood."

"Are you kidding? You couldn't ruin the mood. Everyone has shit going on, Charlotte. It's okay to air it. Nobody's going to freak out and run away." She lets me go and I miss her warmth, her pressure. Her perfume lingers. I breathe it in. "Give it a couple minutes and Kate will probably start suggesting that we play some kind of ridiculous drinking game."

"Yeah? I like ridiculous drinking games." I hold up my glass and take a demonstrative sip.

"Then you and Kate are going to get along just fine."

I take a moment to myself after Lou returns to the others. When I follow, they've migrated to the living room and Lou is sitting at the piano. She's buzzed too, I can tell. Her eyes are glassy, her cheeks pink, her smile loose; she's acting like she doesn't want to play as Talia begs her to but then her hands find the keys and she isn't even looking, doesn't even glance down, as she plays the most beautiful song.

I drop onto the nearest seat to watch. She is so fluid, her hands boneless as they skip over the keys with the touch of a feather. I recognize the piece from some deep part of my brain, something impressive and classical and really fucking complicated, but Lou doesn't miss a note. I probably wouldn't notice if she did, to be honest, but it sounds flawless to me. I can't remember the last time I watched someone play the piano. Not like this: watching every note, baffled as to how she is doing it.

"She's really fucking good, what the fuck," I say.

Talia's sitting next to me. She laughs that funny, deep laugh. "She really fucking is, isn't she?"

"She said she could teach me piano in two weeks. I don't think I could do that in two decades."

A warm chuckle from Talia. She leans back on the sofa we're sharing, our thighs pressed together. "Our Lou is a woman of many talents."

"Our Charlie is not."

"Don't put yourself down, hon. That only gives other people permission to do the same."

I meet her eye for the first time since I sat down. Her irises are the darkest shade of brown, so deep they verge on black. I can't tell them from her pupils, though my own are pretty blown right now. The lighting in here is dim — mood lighting — and I've had a few, and Talia's sitting so close her face is blurry. "Sorry," I say.

"Don't apologize, either. At least, not for that. The word loses all meaning when it's thrown around willy nilly."

"Okay," I say, trying very hard not to apologize again. "I will endeavor to do better in the future."

Talia grins and throws an arm around my shoulders. She smells like Aunt Willa, her perfume something woodsy and musky, rich and kind of old fashioned. A warm scent, comforting. "That's my girl. That's more like it."

Lou is lost in the music. She doesn't need a sheet to read off — I'm pretty sure her eyes are closed. It's like none of us are here. She has found the rhythm and I would happily listen to her play all night. As she falls deeper into the music, her ramrod straight posture loosens, bending into each note, each crescendo. I can't tear my eyes from her. The sway of her hair as she throws herself into the piece; the elegant arch of her wrists; the effortless bounce of her hands.

She hits the wrong key. Her hands stop moving. "Oh, fuck it," she says with a laugh, spinning around on the stool. "There you go, that's your fill for tonight. Where's my glass?"

Kate puts it into her hand and fills it up for her and, with a wicked glint in her eyes, says, "Let's play some games."

*

sometimes you just have to have dinner with a milf and all her friends, right? i hope you enjoyed this!