Well, it was weeks later and she was sitting in a diner in her pajamas with her gorgeous red hair in straggles around her puffy face, wearing no makeup and fifteen extra pounds, and was making a town out of jelly. A musical child prodigy, she was a cellist for the San Francisco Symphony. One of the most beautiful and accomplished women in all of San Francisco was now making it snow in Jelly Town. God, no—not with dandruff, but with sugar packets.
“Sophia stop, stop—stop!” I yelled, grabbing her hand and spraying sugar snow everywhere. “This is enough. No more pouting, no more hiding. This is ridiculous!”
“Yeah!” Mimi chimed in.
“Seriously, this has gone on long enough. I don’t want to go all Afterschool Special here, but my God, woman, wash your hair!”
“Yeah!” Mimi added.
“You’re fucking hot, and you’re fucking great, you’re a fucking catch. And if fucking Neil doesn’t get to have you anymore, who cares, because you’re fucking awesome,” I finished.
“Fuck, yeah!” was Mimi’s contribution.
The table fell silent. Sophia played with one last sugar packet, running it along her fingernails, then stopped to really look at them. Bitten down to the quick, jagged, polish peeling. She sighed, and then looked up at us, two big tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I hate him,” she whispered, drawing a shuddering breath. “And I miss him.”
“We know, sweetie,” Mimi said, drawing Sophia’s hand into hers.
I leaned over and gave Sophia my napkin, which she used to wipe her eyes. She looked down at her sweatshirt, rumpled and stained.
“I kind of stink,” she said with a grimace.
“We know, sweetie,” Mimi said again, which cracked a smile out of Sophia for the first time in a while.
A little pink crept back into her cheeks. She pulled a ponytail holder out of her purse and wrapped her messy hair back into a bun, out of her face. She glanced up as the waiter came to bring our food, her eyes growing huge when she realized the mounds of food she’d ordered. Once he had left, she unfolded her napkin and tucked it in her lap.
“Okay, no more wallowing. I ordered it, so I’ll eat it. But starting this afternoon, no more wallowing includes no more eating like a thirteen-year-old boy.”
“Boys that age have to eat like that. They have to keep up their strength for their many boners a day,” Mimi said matter-of-factly, separating her blueberries from her raspberries, then lining them up on the side of her plate like tiny cannonballs. Sophia and I stared at her as she went on to explain the extreme impact of boners on the social lives of junior high boys. As related to her by her fiancé, apparently an expert.
“Ryan really told you all this?” I asked as I sipped my smoothie.
“Yep, he said when he was that age, he couldn’t keep his hands out of his pants for the life of him,” she prattled, oblivious to the attention the table behind us was now giving her.
“You and Ryan sure seem to share a lot,” Sophia said, shaking her head incredulously as Mimi demonstrated a particular “technique” that had been employed by the teenage Ryan.
“Okay, okay, no more!” I protested, waving my hands. “It’s enough that I won’t be able to look him in the eye next time I see him; no more yanky-wanky details. Let’s change the subject— Who has news?”
The gossip section of breakfast had officially begun.
“Okay, I’ll start. I found out the Palace of Fine Arts is available; looks like that’s where my reception will be!” Mimi sang.
“Jillian asked me to head up the team bidding on the Claremont Hotel redesign in Sausalito,” I offered.
“I’ve spent the last three weeks in a dark cloud, so I got nothing. But did you know that my hair is long enough that if I lean back far enough I can sit on it?” Sophia volunteered.
We chewed.
“I had a client ask me if I’d mind organizing her porn collection,” Mimi said.
“I might have ordered a porn collection at three in the morning a few days ago,” Sophia told the inside of her sweatshirt.
“Simon came home early last night and surprised me. So I had some live-action porn.”
“He came home early? Wow, that’s impressive. Seems like lately he’s been traveling more than usual,” Mimi commented, eating the cannonballs in alternating order. Blueberry. Raspberry.
“Yeah, he has been busier than normal. What can I say? My boyfriend is the darling of the photography world.” I grinned, flushing when I thought about how sexy he looked when he was working.
“I don’t know how you guys do that, be apart so much. I’d die if I didn’t see Ryan every day—I’d just die!” Mimi exclaimed. Blueberry. Raspberry. “I don’t know how you don’t miss him like crazy!”