Never Been Kissed(4)
It doesn’t necessarily hurt when he does none of these things. It doesn’t hurt when he turns and walks towards the voice. Probably the same girl he was with last week who wants breakfast in bed.
It doesn’t hurt, but it sure is disappointing. Books have ruined me for life.
***
“Broski!” I yell at Katie as she comes into my spankin’ new apartment. I try to see it like a stranger would, but Katie’s my best friend so that POV doesn’t work so well.My walls are slate gray, but the pictures make the room, not the ornate glass dining room table that I spent a fortune on, or the badass leather couches, or not even the beige zebra-striped carpet in my living room.
Nope, the pictures tell people who I am. I found a black and white series of super heroes that are simple, elegant and so amazing I just had to have them. Over my leather couch, I’ve got portraits of Batman, Superman and Loki keeping watch over my apartment.
Katie sets her groceries for the night on my counter, insisting she’ll make me dinner. I love to bake, but dinner? No. It doesn’t happen. I’ve been surviving on peanut butter and banana sandwiches for the past week. Something about using the stove to cook a full-blown meal scares me.I tried to learn from my Mom, a Greek displaced to Montreal, trying to keep track of recipes in a notebook. I hated it when she used to eye-ball spices and proportions. Or how she just knew what spices go with what, and just started adding a bit more vinegar to a salad, some oregano and a splash of oil to a salad. What if it doesn’t come out right the first time? Wouldn’t you just keep adding oil then vinegar then more spices in a vicious never-ending cycle?
“I’m loving this place, Sera. Really proud of you for buying it.” I get a full Katie-smile, the kind with all white teeth that have been perfected with years and years of dental assistance.She looks around again, taking in all the furniture, the artwork.
My throat gets thick, and I just end up nodding fast. I stare down at my hands, willing my eyes to stop being so bright.
“Took some ovaries to get out your house and do what you’re doing. Even with all the shit that went down, you’re making a life here. And for all that...” There’s a plastic ruffling as she searches through her bags. “I brought wine. Please tell me you have a bottle opener. I forgot to bring one from home.”
“Hell yeah, I have a bottle opener. I’ve been waiting for this night all week.” Turning from her, I move to the drawer that holds my target. Coming back to the counter, I find Katie standing on my side, and not the side of the living room’s. Her right ear gets closer to her shoulder, as she tilts her head at me. Her eyes are warm and just as bright as mine were a second ago.
Katie moves in and hugs me. Katie gives the best hugs. I think it’s ‘cause she’s not really a touchy-feely kinda person. You have to earn one of her hugs by being important to her. She’s just...good. It’s all I can say about her, but it’s the only word that fits. She brightens up a room by laughing at even the corniest of jokes, and never lets anything really bother her. I wish I was more like her. Enjoying reality instead of escaping to the make-believe that fictional characters provide me. I’m weaker than Katie is, but even if she knows it, she’ll never disrespect me by saying it to my face.
So I lose it.
I sob into her shoulder, dropping the bottle-opener, clawing my hands into her shirt and squeezing so hard around her ribcage, I might cause damage to her lungs. I give her the kind of hug a dying person gives a living one, hoping to absorb some life into their decaying body. I’m trying to absorb some of her happiness into myself, her bravery, her strength.
What’s even better? Katie squeezes her arms around me just as hard. And I sob harder, breaking in front of her and trusting her to help me pick up the pieces later.
***
“How do you do this? It’s like magic.” I’m eating chicken marsala. I don’t know what marsala is, but this brown sauce on my chicken is the shit. Katie even made a potato salad using fingerling potatoes. They’re like really small, and there’s even a purple one! Say what? The dressing is oil, vinegar and green onions. All the flavours cause an orgasm in my mouth.
“Buddy, you saw everything I did. It’s not hard. You just have to be calm about it is all,” Katie says, taking a delicate sip from her wine glass.
“I’m Dirty Harry calm, and I know I can’t make a fine meal like this.” I shove potatoes in my mouth and take a slurp of some wine. The fifty-eighth food-induced mouth orgasm of the night. Bloody hell, this is awesome.
“Are we gonna talk about before?” she asks.