Attach ments(95)

<<Jennifer to Beth>> Are you holding up okay?

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Yeah. Mostly. I had a wobbly moment at the grocery store last night when I realized I was buying a single banana. There’s nothing sadder than buying bananas one at a time. It’s like announcing to the world that there isn’t a soul in the world who’ll be breaking bread with you anytime soon. I don’t even buy bread anymore. There’s no way I can get through an entire loaf of bread before it starts to mold. I can’t decide which is more dejecting: grocery shopping for one or sitting alone in a restaurant.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> You should come eat with us. Mitch always cooks something healthy and delicious. We had shrimp tempura last night.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Plus, I hear the dinner conversation is scintillating.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> You’re welcome anytime. Truly, why don’t you come tonight?

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Only if you tell me the Dorito story right now.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> It isn’t much of a story: I went to get some M&M’S from the break room today, and ended up in line behind the publisher at the snack machine. I was sure he would choose a conservative and traditional snack—perhaps mixed nuts or a great American Hershey’s bar—but, no, he went right for the Salsa Verde Doritos.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> This is at odds with everything I thought I understood about our editorial policy.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> I know. How can someone who eats Salsa Verde Doritos so vehemently oppose gay marriage?

<<Beth to Jennifer>> And affirmative action.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> And traffic roundabouts.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> I can’t believe you thought that was trivial.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> So …do you have any interesting break room stories to report? Have you been cruising the beef jerky machine even when you’re not hungry?

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Uh, no. And since when do you advocate that sort of behavior?

<<Jennifer to Beth>> I told you. I’ve totally reversed my position on Your Cute Guy. You’re single now, and he’s the kind of guy who helps damsels in distress. Seize the day, I say. Carpe Cute Guy!

<<Beth to Jennifer>> It’s still too weird. And I’m not ready to date anybody. I’m not even ready to rebound. I’d feel like I was hitting on someone at my husband’s funeral.

<<Jennifer to Beth>> He wasn’t your husband, and nobody died.

<<Beth to Jennifer>> Still.





THAT NIGHT, LYING in his new bed, staring at his new ceiling, Lincoln thought furiously. The same thoughts over and over again, until trying not to think them was like trying to get a song out of his head.

Hi, I’m Lincoln. I’ve seen you in the break room …

Hi, I’m Lincoln, Doris’s friend …

Hi, have we met before? In the break room? I’m Doris’s friend …

Hi, I’m Lincoln. I work downstairs in the information technology office …

Hi, I work downstairs, in computer support, my name is Lincoln. Look, I know this might seem out of the blue, but would you like to have coffee sometime?

Would you like to get dinner sometime?

Would you like to join Doris and me in the break room? My mom cooks for us.

Would you like to go out? For a drink? Or coffee? Or dinner?

Before we go, there’s something I need to tell you.

I think, before we go, I should confess something.

I have secrets, Beth, secrets that I’ll never reveal, and you’re just going to have to be okay with that. That’s just the kind of guy I am.

What if I told you that I have a secret, one secret, that you must never ask me to share with you?

Because if you ask, I’ll have to tell you the truth. But if I tell you the truth, we’ll never be happy. It’s kind of a Beauty and the Beast/Rumpelstiltskin/Crane Wife thing …

Hi, my name is Lincoln, I work downstairs. Would you like to get together sometime, maybe go out?

LINCOLN HAD AN apartment-warming party that weekend. Eve had suggested it. “It’ll be like your coming-out party,” she said, “you know, your cotillion.”

“Jesus,” Lincoln said, “don’t put either of those on the invitations.”

His mom brought dinner—lasagna and stuffed artichokes and honey ricotta pie—as well as a complete set of silverware, world music CDs, and fresh flowers. She insisted on answering the door when it buzzed.

“She’s acting like she owns the place,” Eve complained.

Lincoln smiled. He was already eating an artichoke. So was Eve. “Isn’t it enough to know that she doesn’t?”