COOL BEANS (21 page)

She grins. “What else?”

“He always told a story beyond the point where it needed to be told,” I say.

Jen starts laughing.

“He still does it?”

“Oh, Maya. So the point of this one story was that he was late to an important meeting he had because he went to the grocery store. But he went into
so
much detail!” She giggles. “The tomatoes weren’t very ripe, and the celery looked as wrinkled as his grandma precosmetic surgery….”

“His grandma had cosmetic surgery?” I gasp.

She nods. “Better skin than I’ve got,” she says.

“Oh my gosh.”

“It took him thirty minutes to tell me he was late.”

I grin. “Okay, your turn.”

“He’s always extremely courteous, but sometimes he’s overly so,” Jen says. “I mean, I have lifted a grocery sack or more in my lifetime, but if I even look like I’m about to pick one up, he flips out and gives me this long lecture on a guy’s responsibilities.”

“He could never get that I liked daisies,” I say.

“Did he bring you tulips?”

I sigh.

She grins. “Works out well for me, then.”

I pull out a generous spoonful of warm fudge and creamy vanilla. “I’m sorry if things were awkward between the two of you because of this.”

She shrugs. “It wasn’t that bad. He told me that you guys started dating in high school, things got pretty serious, and then you broke up freshman year of college.”

“That about sums it up.”

She carefully eats a spoonful of dripping ice cream before asking her next question. “Did you ever think you’d marry him?”

“Yes.”

She nods. “That is probably why it took you so long to get over him.”

“Yeah.” I think about it for a minute. “What about you?”

“What about me what?”

“Do you think you could marry him?”

She blushes and says nothing.

“Uh-huh,” I say. “Your poker face is awful.” I look at her. “Take it slow, Jen. It’s only been a month and a half.”

“And we’ll change the subject now.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Hey, who wants to do Pilates?”

“Roo! Roo! Roo!”

I don’t get into bed until two forty-five. I moan and fall flat on my stomach into the sheets. My eyes are closed, and my cheek is buried into my pillow when I hear it.

Beep!

Ugh.

Beep!

What is that? I push myself up and look around the room. It’s not my alarm; it’s not my carbon-monoxide detector that Dad bought me.

Beep!

It’s my cell phone. I grab it and lie back down with another groan. The too-bright screen reads, “3 New Text Messages.”

Nutkin, just curious if you talked to her. Let me know. — Jack

Hey, just wondering what’s going on tonight. I’m praying for you. — Jack

Six hours, no response. Now I’m getting worried. Call me when you get this, night or day. — Jack

I squint at the clock, my eyelids not quite open wide enough to see clearly.

I push the speed dial and close my eyes.

“Maya?” he answers.

“Is two forty-five considered night or day?” I mumble.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I talked to her; we had ice cream. I even drove to San Diego tonight and saw Zach and Kate. We had coffee.”

He laughs, his voice deep from being woken up, I guess. “So, I’m taking the ice cream and the coffee to mean something like breaking bread?”

“What? No, we didn’t break bread. We had ice cream.” I make sure I enunciate this time. I put my hand over my closed eyes. Sleep. Sleep is what I need.

He laughs again. “No, breaking bread like an act of … you know what, never mind. So, everything’s good then?”

“Mm-hmm.” I’m trying to decide if I’m really on the phone or if it’s the start of a dream. I can feel my breathing start to regulate.

“Okay. Well, thank you for calling and telling me. I’ve been praying for you.”

“Mmm. Okay. Thanks. Good night.” I roll over, snuggling into the covers, and I’m out before I even finish moving.

Ten thirty, Saturday morning.

It’s still not late enough after our teary ice-cream fest, but oh well. I’m standing in the kitchen in my pajama pants, T-shirt, fluffy slippers, and bathrobe staring at the cereal cabinet.

“Hey!” I yell. “Where’s the Cocoa Puffs?”

Jen comes out of her room, hair done, makeup halfway done, still in her pajamas, carrying an eyeliner pencil. “We’re all out.”

“I had half a box left!”

“I had them for dinner last night.” She gives me a warning look as she says it, and I keep my mouth shut.

Well, she was kind of upset last night.

The only other cereal in the cabinet is some leaves-and-honey cereal. I pick up the box in disgust.

“Try it,” Jen says cheerfully. “You might like it.”

I pour a bowl and gag at the swirling granules of pollen clouding the air around me. “Yuck.” I look at her. “And what are you doing all pretty at this hour of the morning?”

She dimples. “Travis is taking me out to breakfast.”

“Swell! Can I come?” I smile nicely. Breakfast out means pancakes.

“No.” She returns the smile.

I pour milk on the cereal, and it immediately turns gray. Not chocolatey like Cocoa Puffs, not purple like Froot Loops, but gray like death.

“Yuck.”

“Don’t knock it before you try it,” Jen sing-songs sweetly. She watches me, grinning, from the edge of the kitchen.

I dig my spoon in and pull out a round chunk of cement. I say a prayer and stick it in my mouth.

Eiegh!

“Gross!” I yell as soon as the compacted bark has slid down my throat. “What is this?”

“Oh, maple twigs, wheat germ, dried cauliflower, and raisins, all food-processed.” She starts laughing hysterically. “Thanks for not telling me about Travis!”

“Jen!” I gag, wiping off my tongue with the edge of my bathrobe.

She’s laughing so hard she’s crying now. “Okay, that made everything all better.” She swipes under her eyes. “Wow. Your expression was priceless!”

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too.” She grins at me. “Cocoa Puffs are above the sink.” She waltzes back into the bedroom.

I empty my bowl in the sink, still gagging.

The doorbell rings, and I hear Jen gasp. “Dang it, he’s early!” Then, the inevitable. “Maya, can you get that?”

I look down at my robe and pajamas. Then I look at Calvin, who is sleepily stumbling into the kitchen and smile. “I told you the bra when the roommate is dating was a necessity.” I had put one on first thing this morning.

Apparently, my strict rules about such things have not been wasted.

I tuck my curling-out-of-control hair behind my ears and scuff to the front door. Travis is standing there with — what else? — a huge bouquet of tulips.

“Good morning,” I say, tucking the robe tight around me. “Jen’s still getting ready.”

“Hi, Maya.” Travis smiles.

Jen comes out right then. “Sorry, I’m ready now.” She grins at Travis.

“You look beautiful,” he says to her, and he’s right.

“Aw, thanks!” She kisses his cheek lightly and looks at me. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Have fun, guys!” I wave. The awkwardness is about to kill me, but I’m playing it cool. It’s not like you can be extraordinarily cool in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, but I’m aiming for marginally cool. Sort of like lettuce cool as opposed to ice-cream cool.

After putting the flowers in a vase, Jen walks out the door, and Travis smiles at me before he closes it. “Bye, Maya.”

“Good-bye, Travis.”

It takes two bowls of Cocoa Puffs to wash the taste of ground-up nature out of my mouth.

I read my Bible over breakfast, figuring that I won’t be able to concentrate afterward with that gross aftertaste in my mouth. I’ve started reading through James. If any book is about the practicality of living a Christian life, it’s James.

“But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him,” says the first chapter.

God, give me wisdom today.
I’ve been trying to focus on
praying about what I read in my devotional throughout the day. I read one verse every morning, and it’s a little easier to remember than the long chapters I used to read.

I look at Calvin. I’ve put on a pair of fleece pants depicting Santa and his reindeer, a white T-shirt, and a black hoodie.

“So,” I say, rubbing his silky ears, “it’s just you and me, bud.”

He sighs.

“You could be happier about that.”

He just raises his little eyebrows and looks at me. We could go for a run, but it’s cold outside, and I don’t feel like changing clothes again. And running around an apartment complex in Santa and Rudolph pants just isn’t a very good idea.

Neighbors and all that.

I rub his ears again and get up from the table. It’s almost eleven thirty. I decide to wrap Zach’s present so I’m not doing what I usually do when driving to San Diego for a birthday: wrapping the gift while driving the interstate. I’ve gotten some pretty nasty looks from people.

The doorbell rings right as I find the pink-polka-dotted wrapping paper — the only kind in the apartment — and Zach’s picture frame.

It’s Jack at the door.

I open it confusedly. “Hi.”

“Nice pants,” he greets me. “You never answer your cell phone.”

I frown. “Oh,” I say, remembering, “it’s on silent because it was beeping weird last night, and I couldn’t sleep.” Calvin trots over and starts licking Jack’s pant leg.

“What are you doing?” Jack asks, looking at the wrapping paper. “Is it Jen’s birthday?” He reaches down and gives Calvin’s ears a good massage.

“No, it’s Zach’s. Remember? Tomorrow night?”

“Pink polka dots?” He gives me a look. “I thought you made peace last night.”

I nod. “I did.”

“Trying to start up the war again?”

I roll my eyes. “This happens to be the only wrapping paper we own.”

“And I guess buying new paper never occurred to you.” He grins.

“Then I’d have to change pants.”

He concedes with a smile. “True.”

“Thank you.” I sit down cross-legged in the middle of the living room with the tape and scissors next to me. “What are you doing here?”

He sits on the couch, and Calvin’s right at his feet. My dog loves Jack. “Nothing really. Just seeing what you were up to.”

Calvin really does need to be walked. A daily walk of forty-five minutes or more is the key to a successful family pet. Or so claims the Dog Whisperer. “As soon as I finish wrapping this, you can go on a walk with me and Calvin,” I say.

Jack smiles. “Sounds great. As long as you change pants.”

“Hey!” I protest. I stick one leg out. “It’s Santa and his reindeer. See?” I’m fully planning on changing before we leave, but you don’t diss Santa right before Christmas. Everyone knows what that gets you in your stocking.

“Nutkin, it’s a month before Christmas.”

“So?”

He sighs.

I fold the paper over the frame and use my elbow to hold it closed while I reach for the tape. I tear a piece off with my teeth.

Jack makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Do you cneed help?” he asks.

“No tank you,” I say and immediately regret talking with a piece of tape between my lips. It flops over and sticks to my bottom lip.

Swell. Now I have to either let go of my perfectly creased-into-place paper or figure out a new way to get the tape out of my mouth.

I carefully lean over the package and try to use my chin.

Jack is crying he’s laughing so hard. “Maya, stop,” he says when he takes a breath. He gets down on the floor with me and holds the paper for me while I pull the tape off my lip and chin.

“It is not that funny,” I say.

“Sure it is,” he disagrees. “Oh, Pattertwig, you’re not seriously going to — ”

I stick the tape on the package, and he gags.

“What?” I say.

“You just choked on that piece of tape, and now you’re using it on his present?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So? He’s a doctor. The fewer germs he’s around, the better. Spitting all over his present isn’t going to help.”

“I happen to be feeling just fine, thank you.” I whack the back of my hand on my forehead. “See? Normal temperature.”

He grins as I finish putting the tape on the present.

“Okay, I’m going to go change pants,” I say, standing.

“After all that grief you just gave me?”

“I never said I wasn’t going to change. I just don’t think it’s a smart idea to talk badly about Santa this time of year.”

“Oh, Maya,” he says, rubbing his head.

I pat his shoulder. “You’ll be okay.” I run to the bedroom, carrying the present with me. Finding a pair of worn jeans and
my running shoes, I pull them on and grab Calvin’s leash.

“Cal! Let’s go, bud!”

He comes running, sees the leash, and goes ballistic. “Roo! Roo!”

“Settle down, boy. Sit!”

He plops his little bottom on the floor, and I clip on his leash. “Ready?” I ask Jack.

Jack nods at my choice of clothing. “Much better.”

“Not as comfy, but it works.”

We start out at a good pace toward the park a few blocks away. It’s a little chilly, but the sun is shining and the sky is clear.

Calvin’s going at a happy trot, sniffing the air like he’s tracking one of the Lost Boys from
Peter Pan.

“So everything is back to normal with Jen?” Jack asks, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans to protect them from the chill.

“I think so. It was a little awkward when Travis picked her up this morning but not too bad.” I think the robe probably played into that.

“Good.” He nods. “I’m sure everything will be just fine then.”

“Yeah.”

We lapse into a comfortable silence, and I squint at the park ahead. I usually let Calvin off his leash when we get there, and he does a few laps around the grassy field, checking out all of those intoxicating smells.

“You should’ve brought Canis,” I say.

“Should’ve.” He nods.

We get to the edge of the park, and I unclip Calvin’s leash. There’s hardly anyone here — an elderly couple is walking the perimeter at a slow pace, and way in the distance by the sports
courts it looks like a pickup basketball game is going on.

Calvin’s tail is wagging nonstop as he starts trotting a little ahead of us. We are barely shuffling forward. The day is gorgeous. Cold but beautiful.

“So, Maya,” Jack says.

It’s one of the few times he’s used my name, so I know something’s up. I stop and look up at him. “What’s up?”

He looks at me, briefly meets my gaze, and then looks away again. “I’m glad things are better with Jen,” he says flatly.

“Oh.” Hasn’t he already said this? “Me, too.”

“Yeah.”

Silence again. I watch Calvin sniff at the elderly couple from a distance and smile. Good. He’s learning something. Last time we came to the park during an afternoon, he nearly bowled over a man who looked like he could drop from a stroke at any moment.

I hear Jack clear his throat. “Pretty day,” he mutters. “That it is.”

I’m trying not to get weirded out. Jack’s never this quiet. Maybe he’s mad at me about the whole Jen and Travis thing. I think about that and decide no. He’s known about it too long to get mad now. Plus, he’d just tell me he didn’t like what I was doing, not play this whole quiet game. I watch Calvin’s bobbing tail for a minute before I choke back a gasp.

Wait a minute! What if all this stuttering and silence is because now the intern job is taking him out of state, and he doesn’t know how to tell me?

I wince, trying not to panic before he tells me. What will I do without Jack? No one else talks to me like he does. He knows more about me than anyone else and he’s still my best friend — that says something about his friendship.

My heart’s beating really fast, and I wring Calvin’s leash in my hands. What if he’s moving to the East Coast or something and can’t even come back on the weekends? Who will I talk to every day?

“Maya,” Jack starts again. He stops walking and waits for me to turn around. I’m still twisting the leash in a big knot around my fist.

“Mm-hmm?” I mumble, not looking at him.

If he even mentions the words
New York,
I’m going to cry.

“We need to talk,” he says quietly.

I close my eyes. Here it comes. If he’s not moving, he’s considering it. The only other time he’s been this serious with me was when he told me he was leaving Cool Beans for that internship.

“Nutkin?”

“Why do you want to move?” I burst. “Hudson is so beautiful! I mean, look at this weather! Could you get this anywhere else?” I try to motion to the gorgeous fall day, but the leash is tangled around my hands. “Ouch.”

“What?” Jack says.

“I just don’t understand why you want to leave,” I say quietly.

“Maya, I’m not moving.”

I finally look up at him. “Really?” I grin. “Good! Gosh, don’t scare me like that!” I try to hit him in the arm, but again the leash stops me.

He looks confused. “Did I mention anything about moving?”

“No, but you were all serious and quiet, and I just knew it was bad news.” I sigh. “If you’re not leaving, it can’t be that bad. What do you want to talk about?”

He looks at my immobile hands and shakes his head. “How could I move? I’m not sure you’d stay in one piece without me,” he says. He unknots the leash off my hands and sticks it in his pocket.

I nod, feeling the adrenaline start to fade and my heart begin to beat normally. I inhale deeply. I overreact too much. It’s not good for my adrenal system.

“I’m not moving, but we still need to talk,” Jack says.

I squint up at him. “Okay.”

He lets his breath out and puts one hand on my shoulder. “Maya. We’ve known each other for a long time,” he says in a rush.

“Uh-huh.” I nod. What if he’s sick?

There’s goes the pounding heart again.

He’s still talking. “And I know that this is always awkward, and there’s a chance it won’t work, and you’ll probably be upset at me for saying this, but I need to.”

Okay, so he’s not sick. He’s got a crush on one of my friends. I frown.