by Erynn Mangum
He watches me for a few minutes. “It’s not like we’ll never see each other,” he says gently.
“I know, but it will be weird.” It won’t be every day anymore. I clamp my hands together in my lap. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about this before. It makes sense. And it’s what he wants to do. Jack’s wanted to be a zookeeper since the third grade. On Career Day, he drew a picture of himself taming an elephant. Of course he’s not going to be serving coffee for the rest of his life.
“Nutkin?”
I blink and look at him.
He touches my arm softly. “You okay?”
“Yeah! Yeah,” I say a little quieter, seeing as how the Dairy Queen guy jumped at my first answer. A vivid picture of what happens when you consume too much ice cream, I think: You get all jumpy. “I mean, of course we’ll see each other.”
He grins at me. “Of course.” He nods.
I hold up my pinky. “Pinky promise?”
He laughs.
We walk out to our cars a while later, and I shrug into my jacket. It’s not cold, but it is as crisp as it will probably get in Hudson this winter.
“Well, I will see you tomorrow at some horrible hour in the morning,” I say. I reach for a hug. “Thank you. Tonight was fun.”
He pulls me in, and it’s a long, comforting hug. It’s nice, and it’s exactly what I need after this week.
“Night, Maya.” He smiles at me and opens my car door for me. “Drive carefully.”
“Thanks, I will.” I climb in and wait for him to turn his ignition before I drive out of the parking lot.
I get home, and Jen’s car is there. I walk up the stairs and open the front door, yawning.
Jen flicks the TV remote to turn it off and stands as I walk inside. “There you are!” she says. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Bible study ended two hours ago! Where have you been?”
“I just went to get ice cream with Jack. Why are you yelling at me?”
She sighs. “I’m not yelling. I just got concerned when you didn’t show up right after the study, and I’m really …” She grabs her forehead and falls onto the couch.
“Jen?” I sit down beside her, pulling my coat off and wrapping an arm around her. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?”
She growls, rubbing her temples.
“Jen?”
Dropping her hands, she turns and looks at me. “Oh, Maya.” She says my name at the end of a long sigh.
“What? What’s wrong?” Panic is grabbing my chest with both hands. What if she found out? What if Travis finally recognized me at Bible study tonight? What if she’s mad?
She inhales harshly and weaves her fingers together, staring at the blank TV. “He told me …” She starts slowly and then stops.
“He told you?” I gasp. “What did he say? I meant to tell you earlier, Jen, I promise, I just didn’t want to make you upset.”
She looks at me. “What are you talking about? You knew?”
My hands are shaking now. Dang it! Me and my big mouth. I take a deep breath, trying to appear nonchalant. “What did he tell you?”
She breathes again before saying it in a near whisper. “He told me he loved me.” Then she bites her bottom lip and giggles lightly. “He loves me? Oh my gosh!” She stands, shaking her hands. “I didn’t … It sounds so different saying it out loud!”
Jen starts squealing, and that causes Calvin to come running from the bedroom. I just focus on breathing for a second.
Oh, God, Jack was right. I close my eyes briefly with my prayer. I have to tell her.
I look up, and the smile on her face has enough wattage to light a hundred Christmas trees.
I’ll tell her tomorrow.
“That’s so great!” I say, forcing a smile and standing to give her a hug. “I’m so excited for you!”
Tomorrow.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I don’t sleep well at all.
Aside from Calvin’s 2:24 a.m. wake-up howl, I had four separate dreams of Jen kicking me out of the apartment, swearing never to be my friend again, not ever speaking to me after I told her, and then finally I dreamed we were licking Tootsie Pops and she hit me on the head with hers when I told her and it got stuck in my hair.
I woke up with my hand caught in my curls.
My alarm buzzes, and I moan at the still-dark room. God, I don’t want to get up today.
If I don’t get up, I don’t have to tell her.
I sigh and rub my face, throwing off the covers. She won’t be up when I leave, so I’ll have to tell her when I get back.
I shower, get dressed, and eat quietly. Cocoa Puffs aren’t helping this morning, so I reach for the sticky note pad.
Reasons I’m Afraid to Tell Jen:
1. She’ll be hurt.
2. She’ll probably get mad.
3. She may not want to be my friend anymore.
4. What will Travis think?
I carefully pocket the sticky note, not wanting this particular one to end up in the wrong hands. I glance toward her closed bedroom door and swallow. Tonight. I’ll tell her tonight, despite the reasons I wrote down.
Calvin stumbles into the kitchen to tell me good-bye, and I rub his little ears. “Bye, Cal,” I whisper quietly.
I get to Cool Beans a little early. I unlock the front door and walk into the cold, dark building.
Brrr.
The first thing I do is turn on the fireplace. There’s instantly a warm glow flickering over everything, and the shivers running down my back start to stop.
Have I mentioned how much I hate opening?
The lights are on, the furnace growling, and I’m halfway through grinding the dark roast when Jack walks in. “Morning, Nutkin.” He yawns, flipping the sign to open a few minutes early.
“Hey.”
“How was the rest of your night?” He comes around the counter and pulls off his jacket.
“Long. You?”
“Short. I went right to bed.” He grabs his apron and comes back. “Why was yours long?”
I finish the dark roast before I look at him. “He told her he loves her.”
He blinks. “Who did? Travis?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. He doesn’t waste time.”
I shake my head and pour the medium-roast beans into the grinder. “Nope.”
“How’d she respond?”
I pause the grinder. “Actually, I don’t know. She squealed a lot with me.”
“Favorably, then, I’d assume.” Jack grins.
“Jack, I have to tell her.”
He knows this, because he’s been telling me this since the beginning, but he gives me a sympathetic smile and a long hug. “It’ll be fine, Pattertwig.”
“Doubtful. But she needs to know.”
“When are you going to say something?”
“After she gets home from work.”
He nods. “Good plan.” He looks at my expression and smiles comfortingly. “It will be okay,” he says again, giving me another hug. “Hey.”
I look up at him.
“I’m proud of you, Pattertwig. I know this is hard.”
Our first customer arrives with an order for thirteen different drinks, mostly lattes. Then our normal business crowd comes in to get their caffeine fix before work. So, our conversation is pretty much finished for the next thirty minutes.
I take my lunch break at eleven thirty. There’s a voice mail on my phone, and I check it as I’m driving to Panda Express.
“Hi, sweetheart.” It’s my mom. “I guess Zach’s on some kind of health kick thing, so we’re not going to the steak place on Sunday. We’re going to go to that salad place instead. Call me back.”
That salad place?
I frown and call her back. This is California, land of fruits and nuts. There’s some kind of healthy salad place on almost every corner.
“Hello?”
“What salad place?”
“Hi to you, too.” Mom sighs. “Honestly
, Maya …”
“Sorry. Hello, Mother.”
“That’s better. The salad place next to the mall? Lettuce Eat? Or something corny like that… .”
I squint, thinking. “Caesar’s Palace?”
Mom pauses. “Yep! That’s the one.”
“I thought Zach hated that place.” I park at Panda and walk in. The hairnetted bald guy sees me, sees my phone stapled to my ear, and sighs.
“That was in high school.”
“But now it’s his birthday dinner?” I look at the man. “Can I have the two-entrée plate with the orange chicken and the Beijing beef?”
“What?” Mom says.
“Fried rice or chow mein?” the man asks.
“Hang on,” I say to Mom, but the man thinks I’m talking to him.
“Miss, there are people behind you.”
I point to the phone. “I meant — never mind. Fried rice. No, chow mein. Can I have half and half?”
“Healthy,” I hear Mom mumble.
“We’re having salad on Sunday,” I tell her.
“We do not serve coffee, miss,” the man says.
“One meal doesn’t cancel out another,” Mom says.
“What?” I say to the man.
He points to the soda fountain. “Only sodas. No half and half. No coffee here.”
Meanwhile, my mom is yelling. “ONE MEAL DOESN’T — ”
“I heard you!” I say to her.
“Then why did you ask for half and half?” the man growls.
“Half rice, half chow mein.”
He nods and slams two big spoonfuls on a plate. “Anything else?”
“No. I mean, yes. A small drink, please.”
I pay and sit at a table. Men in hairnets look really mean when they get mad. Maybe it’s the lack of dignity.
“Maya?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“So the Dressing Room sounds good to you?”
I pause halfway through pouring the Mandarin sauce on my rice. “What?”
“The salad place?”
I blink. Mom has issues with names. Obviously. “Oh. Yeah, it sounds fine.”
“Okay. Five thirty.”
I nod, then remember I’m on the phone. “Right. Bye, Mom.” “Bye, sweetie.”
I hang up and dig into my steaming Chinese food. This is the epitome of comfort food, and I can barely hold back a moan of sheer pleasure.
Okay. Down to business.
Jen, I have something to tell you. I think about that and shake my head. Too “end of the world.”
So, Jen, a funny thing happened about a month and half ago. Nah. It’s not so funny.
Jen, Travis and I went to look at rings before. Bad idea. She’ll think it’s for her.
There’s a lady sitting at the table next to me who’s giving me a weird look. I finish a mouthful of the amazing Beijing beef and look over at her.
“How does this sound?” I ask. “Jen, I’m sorry I never told you, but Travis and I dated all through high school.”
She shrugs. “Who’s Travis?”
“Jen’s boyfriend.”
“And Jen is?”
“My roommate.”
Her eyes widen. “And how long have they been dating?”
“About a month and a half.”
“Oh, wow.” She gives me a harder look now. “And you never told her?”
“Tonight I’m going to.”
She tsks. “I’m glad I’m not you. Sounds fine, kid.” She gets up with her empty tray and leaves.
Helpful lady.
I finish eating, check the clock on my phone, and jump up. I’m due back at work in five minutes.
I get home at two forty-five. Hopefully Jen will be home a little after five, and we can finally have our talk.
I have it all planned out. Jack helped me figure out exactly what to say. I rub an ecstatic Calvin’s ears and practice the speech on him.
“Jen, I’m really sorry that it has taken me so long to tell you this, but I didn’t want to upset you. And then when he didn’t recognize me, it just made it that much easier to not say anything. But from sophomore year in high school to the summer before my sophomore year in college, I dated Travis. I know you’re probably mad at me for not saying anything, but I really just didn’t want to get in the way of you two.”
Calvin cocks his head at me.
“I’m just practicing. What do you think?”
He sighs. Not a good sign.
“Want to go on a walk?”
That gets him excited.
I go into my room and change into my Cal-Hudson sweatshirt and running shoes. I try to pull my hair up into a ponytail, but once again, it’s not behaving very well. I give up and leave it down.
“Ready, boy?”
We get back home about an hour later. I shower, then mindlessly watch Emeril Live teach us how to cook a mushroom and pepper flat iron steak. I look at the clock on the VHS/DVD player. It’s five o’clock.
Any minute now.
My nerves are taking over my stomach, and I try to focus on Emeril to distract me. It feels like someone’s using that meat tenderizer he’s showing the audience how to utilize on my esophagus.
“So then we’re going to add a little salt. Bam! Bam! Bam!”
Everyone in the live audience laughs and applauds. I wonder if there’s applause signs so they know when to clap. I would never know when to clap. I can honestly say I’ve never even thought about clapping for someone throwing salt on something.
Calvin’s ears perk up right as I hear someone’s heels on the metal steps outside, meaning that Jen is home.
My heart is beating so fast that I can hear the echo in my left ear.
The door opens, and she comes in, looking tired. Her hair is back in a ponytail, which means she didn’t have the best day at work.
Swell.
“Hi, Maya,” she says. She drops her thirty-pound briefcase filled with all of Wayne’s files on the floor, and it makes a hollow-sounding thud. Then she falls into the reclining chair. “Mmm. This is exactly what I need. What a day!”
“What happened?” I ask, trying to practice the same moves that the Incredible Hulk uses when controlling his blood pressure. In through the nose, out through the mouth. One, two. Wait, I think that’s my Pilates instructor. Never mind.
“Oh, gosh,” Jen says, covering her eyes with her right hand. “What didn’t happen? One of our biggest cases decided to reassess the value in every piece of furniture that they owned so they could split their belongings fairly, which means we had to delay their court date until March. Wayne lost a custody case this morning, so he was Oscar the Grouch the rest of the day. And, on top of that, we got a new administrative assistant who managed to shred all the paperwork she was supposed to file and file all the paperwork she was supposed to shred.” Jen groans. “Oy.”
I’m not super observant, but I’m thinking this isn’t the best time to tell her that Travis and I used to sketch drafts of what our future house would look like. I sneak a deep, ragged breath while she’s staring at Emeril saturating the steak in a little extra-virgin olive oil.
“Sorry, Jenny.”
“It’s not your fault, Maya.” She kicks off her shoes. “Just please say we have no place to be tonight and we can spend the whole evening on our couch watching Fools Rush In.”
Okay, so here’s the new plan:
1. Watch the funny movie with Jen.
Feed her lots of foods filled with calming qualities — chocolate, cake, Cocoa Puffs, and macaroni and cheese.
Once she’s doped up on carbs and enjoying the fluffy after-movie feeling, spill the beans.
I nod. “Okay. Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Great.” She pushes herself out of the chair. “I’m changing into pajama pants. What do you want for dinner?”
“I’ll make dinner,” I say, jumping to my feet. “You change.”
She gives me a weird look. “Okay. Thanks, Maya. I’ve never seen you so excited to cook.”<
br />
“I’ve just watched thirty minutes of Emeril Live showing us how to properly grease a cast-iron stove-top pan. I’m in the cooking mode. Plus, it’s a movie night. That means we get to eat fun food. Not this splinter-laced, moss-covered-bark cereal you’ve been eating.”
She laughs. “Well, thanks for describing it so appetizingly.” She pauses on her way to the bedroom. “You know that’s not his last name.”
“What?”
“Live. His name is not Emeril Live.”
“Oh.” I blink at her. “Yeah, I know.”
She grins. “Just checking. Thanks for making dinner.” She disappears into her room.
“You are welcome.” I head for the kitchen and open the pantry door. Luckily, my trip to the grocery store restocked us enough that our junk-food meter is reading moderate to high. It’s sad when you can’t trust your own best friend and roommate to contribute to this cause. My phone buzzes in my back pocket. It’s a text from Jack.
Have you told her yet?
I quickly write him back. After I get her all placid from a movie.
Within a minute, there’s another text.
You are the only person I know who uses the word placid in a text message.
I grab a box of mac ’n’ cheese and find a tub of premade sugar-chocked cookie dough in the fridge and a quart of vanilla ice cream in the freezer. I start the water boiling in our big saucepan.
Calvin’s trailing my steps, and I look down at him, holding up the box of pasta. “Thank God for preservatives and fake cheese,” I say.
“I don’t think God created preservatives,” Jen says, coming into the kitchen in bright pink fleece pants with stars and hearts littered all over them. She’s wearing an oversized white T-shirt and braiding her hair.
“Then thank you, Kraft.”
She laughs. “Pathetic.” She points to the living room. “There’s a new Emeril show on, and now he’s making mushroom provo-lone chicken with asparagus and crème brulee.”
My mouth starts watering. “Oh …”
“Makes mac ’n’ cheese seem pretty sad, huh?”
I swallow and shake my head. “No! Not sad. We are young and poor. We can only afford the boxed dinners, thanks to Wayne’s temper tantrums and stingy Cool Beans tippers. Yet despite all this, we manage to keep our bank accounts open and our taxes paid, whether or not we eat real food!” I hold the box to my chest dramatically. “We will survive! We will prevail!”
