12
Tuesday, March 5th, 1985, 8:26 P.M.
Charlotte picked up her purse off the floor of the deck and walked towards the front door. It was time to perform the evening’s rituals and call it a day. This time, she put the key into the lock and turned it until she felt it unlatch. Then, she pushed the heavy, mahogany door open and entered the house. She tossed her keys into the bowl that sat on top of the half-moon shaped table situated against the wall, then dropped her purse down on the seat of the chair. She yawned and stretched, then started off down the corridor towards the bathroom. Living alone, she felt no need to close the door as she turned on the lights in the bathroom. After relieving herself from a long ride home, she got up, flushed the toilet, then started washing her hands in the sink. As she dried off, she began examining her face in the mirror. She started looking at a zit that was beginning to form under her lower lip when, all of a sudden, her cat, Binky, jumped up onto the vanity and scared the crap out of her.
“Huuuuhh!” she gasped. “Binky, don’t do that! You scared Mommy half to death.”
But, Binky didn’t care. She was thrilled that she startled Charlotte, then had the nerve to ask for some lovin.’
Charlotte obliged and gave her some. After engulfing Binky in her arms and caressing her until she heard the obligatory purring, Charlotte put down the furry bundle of joy while the two of them proceeded to head-off down the hallway. Binky cantered alongside the feet of her skirt-wearing, piano-princess, as they turned the corner and entered the kitchen.
Charlotte instinctively went over to the refrigerator and opened it up. As soon as she opened the door, she immediately regretted not telling Rocco to do a bit of shopping for her. There wasn’t much there for her to choose from: some celery, some carrots, a half-empty jug of orange juice. And, of course, a bag of apples that she promised herself she would start eating but never did. Not surprisingly, Binky had managed to jump up on the counter right next to her hoping for a treat.
“Are you hungry, baby?” she asked.
Binky could sense that she had just been asked a question and responded by meowing.
Charlotte grabbed a plate of cold, chicken parmesan off the shelf and plopped it down in front of The Binks. Then, like any normal cat would, Binky started scarfing down that shit like there was no tomorrow.
After flipping around a few wrappers of sandwich meat, Charlotte realized that she wasn’t even particularly hungry. She grabbed a can of 7-UP off the shelf and cracked it open. Then she opened up one of the above cabinets, grabbed a tumbler, and filled it with ice. The sound of the ice-maker from the refrigerator door kicked off a Pavlovian response in Charlotte’s brain. She knew what was coming next. As much as she hated herself for doing this, she walked over to the cabinet that she dubbed the “goodness box” in her own mind and took out the Seagrams Seven. She screwed off the top, poured some of the whiskey over the ice, then splashed some 7-UP over the top of it. Then she stirred it with her finger. She was now, officially, her other personality.
She walked down the two steps into the recessed living area and plopped herself down in her favorite chair. She kicked off her shoes and placed her feet up on the ottoman. She took a sip of her drink and looked around. The house was nice and silent. Perhaps, a little too silent. There were times when Charlotte asked herself the obvious question, “Is it smart for me to live alone like this? Is it safe?”
Trying not to spook herself, she took another sip of her drink and continued to survey her surroundings. Through the dim light, she could see Binky cleaning off her mouth and face. Then, she looked to her right and spotted something in the ashtray. To her surprise, it was a decent sized roach. There wasn’t much need in trying to figure out where that little guy came from. It most assuredly came from her boyfriend, Sean. He had been over to her house about four days prior to this evening and smoking pot was one of his favorite pastimes. Aside from that, Charlotte couldn’t believe it was the first time she had noticed it.
At first, she ignored it. Then, she picked it up and examined it as if she were fascinated by the pungent, little morsel. Wouldn’t you know, there just happened to be a handy, Bic lighter sitting right next to the ashtray. She lit the end of the roach, then just sort of stared at it for a moment, letting the aroma and the smoke infiltrate her nostrils. Unable to resist, she took a hit off the other end of it. It didn’t take long before she could feel the effects of both the alcohol and the weed. It felt good after a long day of working. She laid her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. A couple of brief memories about her childhood danced around in her head: Opening gifts at Christmas time. A confrontation with a mean boy at school. She lifted her head up and looked around again. She took another hit off the roach, then knocked off the ash into the ashtray with the end of the lighter and put it down. She took another sip of her drink and started thinking about the show. For some reason, the very first episode entered her mind and it made her feel warm and nostalgic.
For the pilot episode, “We Got The Beat” was the featured song, which made perfect sense. They could have made a music video in the studio for the debut episode, but the director chose instead to show a live clip of the Go-Go’s playing the song at a local, Los Angeles venue.
That was okay, thought Charlotte. It was a nice way to kick off the series. She remembered how thrilling it was to see her name in the credits at the end of the show.