Up & Out - Ariella Papa [80]
“Stop, stop. I can’t imagine your tits in that backless number.”
“Yeah, saggy, thanks, you like that? You think I need that?” I’m starting to feel like we might be in the clear. “Listen, what are you up to tonight?”
“I don’t know.” She sighs. It’s possible I moved too quickly. “Ron is going to a game. I should start researching MBA programs. I’ve been putting it off.”
“This is the problem, Kath. Why don’t you just take a night off? No wedding plans or working from home or looking up grad schools.”
“What else is there?”
“Some of the Explore! folks and I are meeting over at Bryant Park for the Monday-night movie. I’m actually going early to reserve the spot. Do you want to go?”
“Will anyone I know be there?”
“No, just me.” This could be a deal breaker.
“Great, what time?”
“How’s four o’clock?”
“Okay, do you think it’s bad that I’m doing this when I called in sick?”
“That’s the beauty of it.”
“You’re right. What should I bring?”
“Booze, and lots of it.” Kathy’s sigh of relief is way worth missing the incestuous love scene on the soap I shouldn’t be following. “That’s what the doctor ordered.”
I plan on walking down to the Union Square Market, but once I get out of the apartment, I am smacked with oppressive heat. It’s so hot my head starts to hurt. I decide to take the subway, even though I know it’s certain to stink of all the millions of people who pass through Times Square every day. I walk over to the Times Square station, cutting through all the alleys and hotel parking lots to avoid the tourists. This is the worst time for crowds, but this is when everyone seems to want to visit New York City.
I get the N downtown to Union Square. There is still a bit of a lunch crowd at the market. I promised Janice and John I would make food and hold a spot if they brought wine and beer. Now I have to figure out what to make.
I’ve been watching a lot of Molto Mario on the Food Network. He stresses buying what looks fresh each day instead of having a set idea in mind when you shop. I’m trying to practice this when I got to farmer’s market.
I do my usual once-over of the market. I can’t get anything that takes too long to prepare. It’s already one-thirty and I need to make whatever the hell it is I’m making and get to Bryant Park by four. I’m getting to know what the different stands have to offer and where I prefer to buy tomatoes as opposed to greens and herbs. My preferences are only slightly influenced by how hot the guys are behind the stand.
I decide on a rustic loaf of multigrain walnut bread, some beautiful red tomatoes, arugula and Parmesan. I walk down Fourteenth and stop in Garden of Eden, a gourmet market I used to go to with Lauryn sometimes. I pick up a container of pesto. There is no way I have time to make my own.
I hop on the 1 train back up to Times Square. I walk through the long tunnel to the Port Authority exit and get out on Eighth Avenue closer to my apartment. I am sweating by the time I climb up to my fifth-floor walk-up with my bags. I pour myself some coffee I’ve been icing and hop in for a quick shower.
It’s three o’clock by the time I’m out of the shower. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to have a schedule. I’m not going to rush, though. It’s too damn hot. Tommy is working until seven o’clock, so I leave my towel wrapped around me and let my hair air dry.
I slice the loaf of bread horizontally and coat both sides with pesto. I cut the tomatoes really thin, layer on arugula and the Parmesan. I add some salt and pepper—and I can’t resist a little drizzle of Croatian olive oil I splurged on in a moment of weakness.
I press the bread together and slice the loaf in eleven slices. I wrap it all in aluminum foil and napkins and put them in a plastic bag.
I throw on a tank top and my ubiquitous drawstring skirt. I pile on deodorant, then it’s back out into the oven that is Manhattan.
Bryant Park is already starting to fill up. I love going to movies in the summer, but there are times when people take things a