“Oh, right, of course.” I guess that’s how lawyers roll. I nod my head and make a mental note to pick up a coffee pot tomorrow when I get the groceries. “Good night Maddie.”
“Good night? You’re not really going to bed, are you? It’s five o’clock.” Her hands are on her hips. “I thought we could go out for drinks tonight.”
“I’ll have to take a rain check on that, my dear. Tomorrow night would be great though. Because you see in my world, good night should have happened last night, but I skipped it because I was all hopped up on caffeine, so I’m going to have to exercise that good night and tonight’s good night simultaneously. Right now. See you tomorrow.”
Tuesday, August 23
(Kate)
I wake up at 10:37am and goddamn if I don’t feel continental this morning. Getting caught up on sleep is something I’ve only recently had the luxury of enjoying. The concept has been foreign to me for the past, oh I don’t know, all my life.
Maddie must be at work so I get out my laptop and search for a nearby grocery. There’s one within walking distance. I take the elevator down to the gym and run for thirty minutes and then I shower and grab my wallet and phone and head out for the grocery store. When I exit the building I find myself drawn to the Starbucks next door like a moth to a flame. I don’t like fancy-schmancy coffee shops. I like mom-and-pop, small local joints. But I’m already through the door and my veins are practically humming. I order a large black coffee, which I know pisses them off because I’m supposed to order in pretentious coffee-speak, but it’s been ages since I’ve been in a commercial coffee shop and I’m desperate for my coffee. I don’t have time to peruse the gigantic menu of froufrou drinks to get the jargon just the way they like it.
I get the standard litany of questions. “Milk, soy, non-dairy creamer?”
“No thanks.”
“Flavor shot?”
“Nope, black’s good.” I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet in anticipation. And when she hands it to me what I want to say is come to mama, but what I really say is, “Thank you so much,” with extra emphasis on the so.
I find the grocery store and pick up what I can carry back to the apartment. As fate would have it they also have a small two cup coffee pot that I score for fifteen dollars on sale. On the walk back, I hold the grocery sack in one hand, clutching the coffee pot in the other like it’s the f**king Holy Grail.
Back at Maddie’s apartment, I decide to do some cleaning. I assume she probably works a lot because it’s dirty as hell in here. It’s not like I’m Mrs. Clean, but I figure it’s the least I can do to help her out. I vacuum and clean the kitchen and the bathrooms until around 5:00, when she’s due home.
At 5:15 she announces she’s starving and hasn’t eaten all day and that I just have to try the sushi place down the street. I’m not really a big sushi fan—which I know is sacrilegious in certain crowds—and I’m also a vegetarian. That alone reduces my options, and when you factor in my distaste for rice, I’m not left with much to choose from. Of course I don’t want to be rude because I’m the guest, so I tell her, “Sounds good, let’s go.”
The restaurant is packed, but she knows the maître d’ by name and we quickly get a table.
“Do you come here often?” I ask, impressed by the quick service.
“No, only about twice a week.”
I nod. I’m getting used to just nodding now to get past the shock of her lifestyle. I guess I shouldn’t be shocked since my mother lived it her whole life, and after all they were sisters. Maybe being high maintenance is genetic or something. It definitely skipped me and Grace if that’s the case.
As I start to scan the menu looking for something edible, I realize that Maddie’s ordering a round of martinis. My eyes widen, but hers are already glued to the menu. “What do you like?”
I lean across the table and whisper, “Maddie, I’m only nineteen. I can’t drink, dude.” It’s not that I don’t drink, but I’m not into it tonight. And I don’t have a fake ID if our server decides to card me when he comes back.
She dismisses me with a wave of her hand. “I come in here all the time.”
That’s some sort of explanation? I shrug and raise my eyebrows. “Okay.” I’ll offer the drink to her when it comes. Something tells me she won’t turn it down.
“So, back to the food. What sounds good?” She looks almost food drunk just taking in the menu. Like it’s making her high.
“Um, yeah, so I’m vegetarian. What kind of options do I have to work with?” My eyes are racing furiously across the menu looking for anything that says vegetables.
Again, she dismisses me with a wave of her hand as the waiter returns with our drinks. “I’ll order for both of us.”
The food comes out, and by the time the waiter is done setting it all on the table, I’m stunned. Several long plates crowded with colorful rolls, bright pink and white fish, and mounds of wasabi fill the entire table. “Maddie, I think there’s some mistake. This is a lot of food.”
“No, this is all ours.”
I frown. “But there are like six plates here and there are only two of us.”
She shrugs and looks at me like I’m speaking Japanese. “Sushi’s not very filling. Besides, you want to have some variety. Try a little bit of everything.”