Three friends were sitting around a kitchen table. It was still early in the morning, the light still pale. Billy took a sip of coffee. He almost gagged.
“Goddamn it, Dawn. You burned the coffee again. How do you manage to burn it every single goddamn morning? Just—just how?”
“Well Billy, if you could wake your lazy ass up 30 minutes earlier, I wouldn’t have to listen to you complain about it. You could be a big boy and make it yourself.”
Ron shifted in his seat uneasily. Really he squirmed. His face felt hot.
“Don’t give me that shit Dawn. I’m sorry you work an easy eight while I work overtime on swing shift. You know how difficult it is going to work—”
“Billy, I swear to god if you trivialize my job one more time I’m going to throw you out that fucking window. I’m a teacher for fucks sake. I—”
“Isn’t that a word?” piped in Ron. “To throw someone out a window. It’s a word.”
Dawn’s brow furrowed with confusion. “I don’t think so, Ron. English isn’t really like that. That’s too specific. Like that’s probably one of them German words or something. Like schadenfreude.”
“Jesus Dawn, you can’t say that to Ron.”
“Say what?”
“You can’t call him a Shaolin fraud you racist bitch.”
“I’m not racist. And I’m sure as shit that I ain’t a bitch!”
“For fucks sake. You’re calling Ron a Shaolin fraud. His last name is Du. Du. Not with an O. With a U. You don’t even know how to pronounce his first name so you started calling him Ron after you got drunk watching Harry Fucking Potter.”
“Billy, what are you talking about? Schadenfreude means for me to take pleasure when I see you’re in pain. For example—this might help you understand— when you call me a racist bitch, or complain about the fucking coffee, I will throw you out that window. That one right there. And upon seeing your cut-up face writhing in pain, I will experience schadenfreude.”
“Defenestrate. The word is defenestrate. And it’s not a German word. It’s a word-word. Defenestrate.”
“But Dawn’s right here Ron. The German’s got words for everything. Shi-i-i-t, I bet they got a word for that feeling of being utterly and completely emasculated when Dawn—my girlfriend of three motherfucking years—has her ex-boyfriend come over—when I’m not home mind you—and sharpen my kitchen knives. Ronny boy, I bet they got a word for that. In fact, I bet they even got a word for that uncomfortable feeling you get when you hear two people hate-fuck each through the walls in the next room over.”
“I get that feeling a lot living here with you two.”
Silence. Billy sipped his coffee; Dawn stirred hers with a spoon for some reason—it was black.
“Billy. Dawn. Is there a word for hiding the ropes that lie around the house because you’re scared you might hang yourself?”
“Ron. I—uhh—”
“There actually is! You’re lucky I teach literature. But it’s not a German word. I think it’s Russian. The Germans are dark but—”
“Uh, honey. Dawn, I think you’re—”
“—but that exact feeling came up in a book I just listened to on Audible. It’s called Anna Karenininia or something.”
“But that was a train, right?”
“Ron…that might be right. Hmmm. I could have sworn it was a rope. A train does sound familiar though. But I’m not sure.”
“Dawn, I really think we need to ask Ron—”
“Okay boys, I need to go to work. Enjoy your breakfast love. Give me a kiss. Mmmuah! I’ll see you later Ron.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
“…”
“Ron?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure.”