I was in desperate need of a loaf of bread; couldn’t take my own lunch to take to work; had been eating out; have been fearing extreme weight gain due to days spent almost entirely in front of a computer screen.
Met Milie at school in the evening to help by carrying a pastel drawing; we stopped at the Save-A-Lot, a grocer off Broad where you have to check your bags at the door.
Discussed the ‘rents potential visit while waiting in line. “I miss them,” Milie said. “Kind of want to see them.”
Every single person I have told that I live with my sister has said something to the effect of “I could never live with my older sister.” Usually they have older sisters. What is this? So I am adamant that we make it as roommates.
On the way out the security guard wanted to know who did that big pastel of a guy with a nerdy head and a hot, half-naked bod. He didn’t ask it like that, but he rummaged through a scrap box and pulled out a newspaper clipping of football players mid-tackle. “If you took a picture, you could draw it?”
“If I had time,” she says.
And he launches into a long story about his wife having taken over his bar in the basement so that it looks like the entryway of the grocery store, all the stuff that’s there, and she has this thing for someone whose name we almost immediately couldn’t recall. And he wanted to know how much she’d charge for a big picture of that person that would make a really nice Christmas gift.
“I figured, you’re here –well, I’m here– so you think about it and I’ll be here. Hey, I’ll give you my number.”