Up & Out - Ariella Papa [122]
“Hey,” says Tommy, jogging toward me. I won’t be fooled. He is some kind of mirage, like you get in the desert when you are dehydrated. That’s what it is. He is going to say that even though I am falling for Ben, he has decided to live as a monk and support me at all costs. After all, there are no other women like me, so why try to accept alternatives?
“Rebecca, are you all right?” Tommy asks. He might be real.
“Well, I’m running. How all right could I be? What are you doing?” He turns and starts running alongside me.
“Well, some people at the finish line are very upset with me, because I turned around after I went through.”
“Are you crazy? Why did you do that?”
“When I passed the six-mile mark, I knew you would probably be ready to give up. I thought I’d make sure you did it.”
“Thank you,” I say. It’s better than a vow of chastity and a constant candle held for me. It’s what a friend would do.
“Kathy tried to turn around, too. She is really worried about you. She turned around when they started yelling at her.”
“She’s a wimp,” I say, smiling. Along the police barricade people are cheering. This is fabulous. I’ve never been cheered before. It’s better than solid ratings. It’s almost better than rock shrimp tempura.
“Only another few yards,” Tommy yells over the crowd. Then he starts humming the theme from Chariots of Fire, so I’m laughing when I go past the finish line.
Kathy throws her arms around me and hands me some water. I even let Nancy hug me despite my river of sweat.
“You did it,” Kathy keeps saying. “You did it.”
24
Me
To celebrate our completion of the race, we decide to go to Peter McManus. It’s an old Irish pub in Chelsea that Lauryn and I used to go to a lot when we lived in the Flatiron district. Janice and John are moving in with each other in Chelsea and have never hung out down there. I tell them about Peter McManus and spend a good twenty minutes singing the praises of Whole Foods and Chelsea Market.
“You’re really into food, aren’t you? Not that that’s a bad thing,” Nancy says. She is trying to be nice to me. She is not from New York—it’s just her nature. It can’t be easy to have your new boyfriend living with his ex-girlfriend.
“Yes,” I say, smiling. This time I really will try to be mature.
“She actually helped me make your dinner,” Tommy says.
“It was wonderful, thank you.”
“Sure. Speaking of food…” I say, flagging the waitress over.
“We have a fish-and-chip special,” she says.
“You love fish and chips,” Kathy says.
“I do,” I say. “But I’ll have the turkey club.”
I go to the little phone booth by the jukebox and call Knuckle Sandwich. I know Ben was doing prep this morning and working the lunch crowd.
“How was the race? Did you win?” He laughs.
“No, but I finished. We’re at Peter McManus having some drinks. I denied the fish and chips because I knew they would pale in comparison to yours.”
“That’s my girl. I’m almost done here. Will wants to try out this day chef, so maybe I will come up and meet you.”
“You will?” This means he’ll meet Tommy. This means that we’ll both be here with our significant others. This is big. “Okay.”
I get back to the table as the food does. “Ben’s coming.”
“Great, I can’t wait to meet him,” Janice says, then she glances at Tommy. I notice Kathy is doing the same thing, only less obviously.
“Who’s Ben?” Nancy asks.
“It’s Rebecca’s new boyfriend,” Tommy says to her. Then he smiles at me. “And I can’t wait to meet him.”
I am desperate to finish my whole turkey club. It is an act of defiance for actually finishing the race. I feel it is my duty to consume as many calories as possible, as this is probably the most calories I will ever burn at once. The problem with club sandwiches is there is never enough bread to make all the sandwiches possible out of the ingredients. I can’t even make it through half. Everyone is eating big: Tommy got a Reuben, which he offers both Nancy and me a bite of. Janice and John went with fish and chips and Nancy got a cheeseburger. Nancy isn’t stingy offering me her fries. I find this