The Edible Arrangement

A twenty-four year old, hungover woman sits on the toilet. The sound of peeing stops when there’s a knock at the bathroom door. 

“Hurry up.” Amanda groans. 

“You know I’m pee shy,” Kayla shrieks.

Amanda rushes in. She flings open the shower curtain, squats, and pees. Kayla finally resumes her going. The simultaneous stream- a beautiful symphony that only happens when you’re in your early twenties.  

Kayla hands Amanda the roll of toilet paper. “I’m so hungover.”

Amanda whimpers. “I don’t know how I’’ll rally.”

They somehow always manage, though.

Kayla looks into the mirror and starts to wash the makeup from last night off of her face. Both girls know why the mascara is in streaks. But it’s too early to discuss emotions and too hot outside to be crowded in the bathroom.

It’s the only bathroom in their four bedroom apartment. Technically it’s a three bedroom, but they cheated and turned the “office” into Kayla’s bedroom. Maybe if the landlord ever came around, they would get in trouble for it. 

Despite the paint peeling off of the walls, and a hodgepodge of hand-me-down furniture, the apartment is spacious and homey. It’s the second floor of a three-story walk-up and the perfect pregame place. Which is why Amanda and Kayla come out to red cups and Bud Lights littered everywhere. They’re facing the aftermaths of a tipsy tornado- category four level wreckage.

Amanda begins to clean as Kayla goes to the fridge to get them water. The fridge is scarce with supplies and the Brita is empty. 

“Who didn’t fill the Brita last night?”

Bridget trudges in, her bun on the side of her head, in her footsie pajamas. She plops down into the chair at the head of the dining room table and puts her head in her hands. 

Amanda gasps, as a memory comes to mind. 

“Is that guy still in your room?”

Bridget shakes her head and laughs. “Noooo. I made him leave after. Did you hear him Kayla?”

“I thought I heard someone walk through.”

The only issue with the office-turned-bedroom is that it’s connected to the back room. So connected that Kayla and Bridget could mimic each other having sex if they wanted to. 

The doorbell rings. They look at one another.

“The landlord?”
“Jesus to save me?”
“Wrong address?”

The fourth roommate, Emily, enters with a blanket wrapped around her. 

“Who the hell is here this early?”

Another doorbell ring.

They play nose goes. As they’re debating who lost, Kayla answers her vibrating phone then proceeds to exit their apartment.

“Maybe the landlord finally sent someone to fix my balcony.” 

Emily got lucky scoring the biggest room in the apartment, with a balcony that looked over their street in Society Hill. It was easy to tell which one belonged to the recent graduates.
“The shabbiest chicest house in Society Hill,” Amanda likes to say.

The only issue was the lock on the balcony was broken. But Emily was so tired from law school she joked that she “hoped someone would come in and murder her.”

Bridget yawns. “The workers better not leave holes in the walls again. I just spackled the one.”

“You mean that one.”

They look at a wall with a fresh hole and collectively remember what caused it last night. One of their guy friends jokingly pushed over another while they were attempting to film the Mannequin Challenge. Or was it when they were doing Macho Mug and one of them tried to throw off the other- who's mouth couldn’t leave the giant glass of random beers?

“Either way the boys are paying for it.”
“What time are we going there?”
“Ugh I forgot about today.”

It wasn’t rare to have a reason to day drink on a nice Saturday. Today’s reason: their friend was going to try to eat 200 clams in 30 minutes. 

They overhear Kayla closing the downstairs front door. Amanda whispers.
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to her last night. Did you guys?”

Emily shakes her head. Bridget sighs.
“She was so upset…”

The girls stop whispering when Kayla enters, holding a giant Edible Arrangement. She places it on the coffee table in the living room. The girls gather to stare at the glorious creation.

Emily reads the card and shakes her head.
“He thinks cheating can be made up with this?”

Kayla looks down at the card. “I feel like I should text him.” 

“STOP!”
“DON’T!”
“HELL NO!”

“Why? He’s trying, plus it looks kinda good.”

“It is good,” Bridget says as she eats a strawberry. 

“Well if you’re going to eat it, then I’m going to text him a thank you.”

“Fine I wont eat it” Bridget spits up the fruit into the napkin.

“You’re disgusting.”

“I refuse to eat it if it means you contact him.”

Emily nods. “DUMP ITTTT!”

Amanda suddenly grabs Emily’s arm, excited with an idea. Emily shoos her off. 

“None of us will touch it. And in a week send him a picture of it still full. That’ll show him.”

It wasn’t the most maniacal of ideas but Kayla wasn’t a spiteful person. The only time she exhibited some mean-spiritedness was on April Fools when she pranked her friends in the most classic ways. So naturally, she liked this idea. 

“And you can’t text him as long as we don’t eat it. We’ll make space in the fridge later.”

There was already space in the fridge, which is why the girls were practically salivating at the chocolate covered fruit. Decent food is a commodity when you’re this age, especially when most weekends consisted of eating trash. 

They can tell Kayla is a bit off after being bombarded by her ex. And they need distraction after being bombarded with colorful, juicy fruit, conveniently placed on sticks. So they turn on old episodes of Jersey Shore.

While they watch and discuss the previous night, each of them can’t help sneaking a peak at the fruit. As if the Arrangement is the hot guy across the bar, that they’re all too scared to approach. Amanda finally gets up and puts it in the fridge.

“Oh my god he texted me.”

Amanda sprints back into the room and reads it aloud over Kayla’s shoulder.
“Did you like the surprise?”

“Ask him if he liked Danielle’s cunt.”

The retort comes from a girl rising from a pile of blankets from the corner of the couch, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. But more like a city pigeon rising from a dumpster. 

Ryan stretches and groans. She lives down the street but spends most of her time here. 

Bridget laughs. “Holy shit, did you even know she was there?”

Kayla shakes her head and goggles at the thing who was next to her on the couch this whole time. “And it was only hand stuff, apparently.”

Ryan puts a loving arm around Kayla. “I bet you his nails were uncut and sharp.”

“I totally forgot you came back here last night. I thought you went home after we got Wawa.”

“Well I’m here. And we gotta get moving to get to the boys. Does anyone have a makeup wipe?”

“I’m going to pee, I’ll get you one.” Bridget walks to the bathroom, looking longingly at the fridge as she passes it.

Ryan lets out a loud, hungover burp. “Don’t you wish you could transfer your pee to someone else. Like Emily is going and I have to go why can’t she just go for me?”

“You say that every time”.

“So you heard our plan?”

Ryan nods. “It’s good. But I think you should like threaten to shove the bouquet sticks up his ass.”

“Not texting is better than threats!”

“That’s actually true. I’m not the person to talk to about resistance.”

“Well you better resist. Remember when you drunkenly ate my birthday cake?”

“I was high! And you’re the one who looks like you have fruit shaped hearts in your eyes.”

Emily rubs her head. “You’re so fucking loud.”

Kayla is staring down at her phone.
“I don’t know if I can go today.”

Like that, it’s as if the girls were never hungover to begin with. Emily uses persuasion more powerful than she’s ever done at law school; Amanda motivates and energizes, just like she does with her resistant class of fifth graders; Bridget plans out the best bars to go to and offers to curl Kayla’s hair- the golden proposal from a friend while getting ready. And Ryan blasts her expertly crafted pump-up playlist. 

No one assembles more efficiently than the friends of a woman scorned. 

So they go to the boys and take gross shots in their tiny basement that feels like a second home. They go to the bars which feels like an adventure, even though they frequent them often. They stumble down the city streets that feel as buzzing as their heads. 

No one compares to your friends when you’re 24. 

None of them bring guys back- they instead go home and eat pizza around the table in the most uncivilized manner. The non-stop chatting only interrupted when they hear a mouse trap snap. Then non-stop laughing because, of course, they would still manage to get a mouse in this heat.

The girls practically tuck Kayla into bed, free of mascara streaks. They got her drunk enough to be the first one to sleep… success. 

“Oh man I’m craving something sweet.”

“I want da fruitttttt.”

“Guys, what’s more important? Kayla’s sanity or a nice.. chocolate.. covered… pineapple…”

“No we can’t. We can’t.” 

“Let’s go to sleep.”

Later that night, Emily hears a noise. She instantly wakes up, making sure no one is on her balcony. Then goes outside to make sure no one is trying to break in. But someone is breaking in?!

“What the fuck!” She whisper-screams down at Bridget, who’s outside the door of their walk-up. 

Bridget makes a “shh motion”.

They meet in the living room. 

“I went out of my backdoor then looped around here. I didn’t want to wake Kayla.”

“To go to the bathroom? Couldn’t you just have popped a squat on the fire escape?”

“Well….”

Ryan shoots up from the couch and points a finger at her. “You want the Edible Arrangement!”

“Bridget!”

“She wouldn’t notice one bite gone. And I may have gotten a little high.”

“See. Sweets are impossible to resist when high!”

“Still not forgiven for Manda’s birthday cake...”

As if they summoned her, Amanda comes sneaking out of her room to the fridge- unaware of the girls in the living room. 

“Not you too?!”

Amanda looks up, flushed. “I was sleepwalking?”

“You guys!”

“Dude, I was dreaming about it too.” Ryan walks closer to the fridge. 

Emily sighs. “I guess she wouldn’t notice one. But you guys will have that on your conscious.”

“There’s not enough for everyone, though.”

They do nose goes and, once again, resume fighting over who lost. 

“We need to play three more times anyways.”

Kayla comes into the kitchen, not seemingly phased, and pours herself some water.

“You guys can eat it. I won’t text him. Just refill the fucking Brita if you drink any water.”

As Kayla walks into her room the girls all celebrate, relishing in the fruit. 

This isn’t one of those stories where the fruit tastes bad because they went back on their promise. No, an Edible Arrangement is delicious. But their celebration is fairly short lived.

“Kayla never curses.”

“She said refill the FUCKING Brita”

“Maybe you guys should refill the fucking Brita once in a while.”

“You don’t even live here.”

“Don’t yell at me… I have an idea.”

In the middle of the night, in the middle of their city, the girls exit their Uber. 

With backpacks full of the toilet paper they keep stocked because theres one bathroom between four--no, five- girls. With a bucket of spackle because their landlord never comes around. With the dead mouse that interrupted their dinner, they get to work. 

The girls take a picture of the mouse on the stoop, the toilet paper around whatever shrubbery Kayla’s ex boyfriend’s house has, and the door spackled shut. 

Tomorrow Kayla will wake up with a double-hangover, in her little office/bedroom.

She’'ll reluctantly check her phone and see texts of pictures of a prank. One better than any she’s ever done, herself.

No one compares to your friends when you’re 24.(but they still forgot to refill the Brita).