Up & Out - Ariella Papa [32]
“Hey,” she says, recognizing my work number on the caller ID.
“Where are you?”
“At a birding event.” It was too bad to be untrue.
“Does Delores mean pain in Spanish?”
“I’m not sure. I kind of have to go.”
“Want to grab a late dinner?”
“No, there’s food here.”
“What?” I ask, giggling. “Chicken?”
“I’m hanging up now.” And she does.
I am starting to get hungry. My lunch hiccups have finally subsided. I think my system went into shock when I said “focus group.”
I could stay here and work on my scripts and order in or I could go home and work on my scripts and eat something alone. Neither is very enticing, but I am anxious to get into my sweats.
On my way to the subway, I check my cell messages. I stop in the middle of the street when I hear the first one. It is Seamus.
“Hey, Rebecca. I waited a few days, but you still haven’t called me. I had a terrific time the other night and I was hoping you did, too. I was hoping we could go to Tabla Bread Bar this week. I don’t know if you’ve ever been there, but their small dishes are all incredible.”
He is making my mouth water. I can’t believe he called me. It is 9:40 p.m. He left the message at two o’clock. I shouldn’t call him back tonight—I’ll call him tomorrow. I can’t believe it. I forget all about Delores.
I hop on the subway, praying that there aren’t any delays. I need to get to Whole Foods before they close at ten o’clock.
I make it just under the wire. The security guard shakes her head at me and they make the final checkout call over the PA. I go straight to the fish department and order a pound of cooked shrimp. The fishmonger gives me all that’s left and it’s exactly a pound. We both laugh when we see the scale.
“You are a lucky lady,” he says.
“Yes, I am,” I say, imagining the crispy fried onions at Tabla Bread Bar. Oh, I have been there, all right, but I couldn’t wait to go with Mr.-Sophisticated-New-York-Wine-Guy Seamus. I am a lucky lady and I am getting lucky. A straight New York male is interested in me, despite my obvious shortcomings. I will not freak out without my shirt on again.
“You having a party?” the fishmonger asks.
“Sort of,” I say.
After I got some parsley and sparkling water, I brought the fish back to my place. I love to eat, but I hate to eat alone. So sometimes I like to add a little ceremony to my solitude.
When I get home, I change into my sweats, put a little D’Angelo on the stereo and take out the silver platter Lauryn got for her wedding and arrange my shrimp cocktail around the center dish of cocktail sauce. I garnish with parsley. I pour my sparkling water into a champagne glass (another gift someone was regretting giving the couple now) and dance my way into the living room. I eat all twenty-three of my shrimp and thoroughly enjoy my cocktail party for one. There is plenty of time for friends and boys. This is me time. I am proud of myself and my work. No one could make me feel otherwise.
When the CD ends, I make myself some cocoa with schnapps and watch the eleven o’clock Friends episode.
There really isn’t much more I can ask for.
7
We’re Going To Be Friends
Life is funny. One night you might be sipping sparkling water and eating shrimp by yourself and the next night you could be getting served crispy, Indian-fusion delicacies while a hot guy rubs his knuckles along your neck and buys you expensive big-girl drinks called Tablatinis.
One night you might be considering a booty call to your recently exed boyfriend and the next you might be worried that all of the West Village might hear you getting down with the new guy.
So yes, my life is full of surprises and some of them are very, very nice. For example, I never expected to be back in Seamus’s apartment, but it didn’t matter, I was having a good time.
Okay, so it was kind of weird afterward…you know, afterward…and I wasn’t sure if I should stay. I couldn’t really look him in the eye as I rehooked my bra. Seamus suggested I stay but I left. There are things you have to try to hide with someone new as long as possible. Frankly, I was tired