I knocked on her door. “T?” I just needed to check if she was going to cut up the vegetables for tomorrow’s dinner.
From inside the glowing pink room, a muffled, “Yeah?”
I walk in. “Hey.” I smile; she’s near tears.
She pours out a piece of her heart, something that’s been weighing heavily on her mind. She goes on for a couple minutes, sniffling in between tears.
I stand there, still in the doorway, and say, “Hey. Don’t worry about it. I’ll help you out.” She questions, repeatedly, if I’m sure. “I’m sure.” I go and sit down next to her on her futon, and she snuggles into my shoulder, probably saying something about how uncomfortable and bony it is. Oh well!
We’re watching something on the Food Network (Channel 75, one of only 8 channels she receives) when Julie bounds in the room in sweatpants and knitted pink slippers. “Hey, beaches!” She immediately breaks down giggling, and we laugh with her. She settles into the pile of pillows on the floor and we all turn our attention to Alton-whoever on TV, half-paying attention to his ridiculous antics and half-contributing to our meaningless banter.
Julie’s eating a bagel and we don’t like how it sounds. T’s boy got an Easter basket from her mom. But I thought you didn’t share the Cadbury eggs! How much do you think this guy gets paid? Will you come visit me in Pittsburgh? I haven’t started my paper yet. Neither have I. You think he already owned that remote-control truck? If they had “What Would You Do?” on DVD, I’d buy it and we’d watch it all the time. What the fuck’s on your feet–new age Jesus sandals?! There comes a point, and it’s called April. What show’s on next? Of course you know. Don’t tell me how many days there are until graduation.
And I’ve forgotten about the vegetables, neglected to write my paper for tomorrow. But, I don’t care. These are the moments.
