The best kind of drugs in the world are friends like mine.
Hasty visit to Alex before he leaves for work. Pulling up and having him greet me from the roof, where he's fixing the air conditioning. Laughing at him after he changes his clothes, his work shirt still damp from the dryer. Being told I look beautiful. Laying my cheek against warm, damp cotton and receiving my favorite hug in the world.
Picking up Lindsay and being happy, because I haven't seen her in a long time. Visiting Jory at work at seven o'clock, only to discover he needs a ride home at nine-thirty. Trying to figure out how to amuse ourselves until then.
Playing games on Lindsay's cell phone as she tries on Homecoming dresses, and we mutually reject every one (except the one that costs ninety dollars and is out of her budget).
Vaguely planning a Halloween party and inviting over twenty people, while we drive to K-Mart. Innocently pressing buttons on dolls who are supposed to dance, but instead perform grand mal seizures on command. Leaping away from them, terrified. Noting that we could never stand Martha Stewart Every Day.
Picking Jory up from work and going to Osaka. Drinking steaming chrysanthemum tea, eighty-five cents for the pot, and noodly Japanese soup, by straw. Jory stuffing a Jane magazine, sitting open on the table, in my purse, because he thinks I should read things like that more often. Jory calling my purse Crafty B---h, because it reminds him of these. Trying to decipher what the floppy white-and-red strips in Jory's soup are, and finally deciding that they must have come from the fish tank out front. Like the restaurants where they have live lobsters... only at Osaka they're shy fish instead. Having the poor little lady behind the desk take my money with a tentative hand, positive that I'm drunk. Assuring her that it's only the chrysanthemum tea, and it does this every time. Telling her that last time I drank it, I ran through the sprinklers at the Provo Tabernacle.
Nearly driving off the road at eleven-thirty at night as Jory performs a scene from Disney's Sleeping Beauty, down to the insane, cackling Malificent. Dropping Lindsay off and then taking Jory to his new house, bare as a swanky Soho loft, because they're just moving in. Studying the odd powder-blue walls in the basement and nodding in favor of painting them. Keeping it to myself that I'm sad they won't have the sunflower patch anymore, and that I feel a little sorry for the guy with the camera pointed to Jory's kitchen windows, and hoping that he likes the new family as much as he liked the Hemmelgarns. Jory stealing back his chocolate and telling me to drive safe.
The best kind of drugs in the world are friends like mine.
Hasty visit to Alex before he leaves for work. Pulling up and having him greet me from the roof, where he's fixing the air conditioning. Laughing at him after he changes his clothes, his work shirt still damp from the dryer. Being told I look beautiful. Laying my cheek against warm, damp cotton and receiving my favorite hug in the world.
Picking up Lindsay and being happy, because I haven't seen her in a long time. Visiting Jory at work at seven o'clock, only to discover he needs a ride home at nine-thirty. Trying to figure out how to amuse ourselves until then.
Playing games on Lindsay's cell phone as she tries on Homecoming dresses, and we mutually reject every one (except the one that costs ninety dollars and is out of her budget).
Vaguely planning a Halloween party and inviting over twenty people, while we drive to K-Mart. Innocently pressing buttons on dolls who are supposed to dance, but instead perform grand mal seizures on command. Leaping away from them, terrified. Noting that we could never stand Martha Stewart Every Day.
Picking Jory up from work and going to Osaka. Drinking steaming chrysanthemum tea, eighty-five cents for the pot, and noodly Japanese soup, by straw. Jory stuffing a Jane magazine, sitting open on the table, in my purse, because he thinks I should read things like that more often. Jory calling my purse Crafty B---h, because it reminds him of these. Trying to decipher what the floppy white-and-red strips in Jory's soup are, and finally deciding that they must have come from the fish tank out front. Like the restaurants where they have live lobsters... only at Osaka they're shy fish instead. Having the poor little lady behind the desk take my money with a tentative hand, positive that I'm drunk. Assuring her that it's only the chrysanthemum tea, and it does this every time. Telling her that last time I drank it, I ran through the sprinklers at the Provo Tabernacle.
Nearly driving off the road at eleven-thirty at night as Jory performs a scene from Disney's Sleeping Beauty, down to the insane, cackling Malificent. Dropping Lindsay off and then taking Jory to his new house, bare as a swanky Soho loft, because they're just moving in. Studying the odd powder-blue walls in the basement and nodding in favor of painting them. Keeping it to myself that I'm sad they won't have the sunflower patch anymore, and that I feel a little sorry for the guy with the camera pointed to Jory's kitchen windows, and hoping that he likes the new family as much as he liked the Hemmelgarns. Jory stealing back his chocolate and telling me to drive safe.
The best kind of drugs in the world are friends like mine.
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