“Dana?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we just go somewhere quiet or maybe private, if that’s possible? I’ll find something to eat wherever that is.”
“You said food is the thing you’re–”
“My OCD is mainly focused on food, yes, but I’m okay right now.” She gave Dana a small smile. “I actually ate a salad for an early dinner.”
“Early dinner? You said you–”
“I had an off day today because something happened to me last night that threw me, so I had a weird breakfast, lunch,anddinner situation today because of it.”
Dana turned to her a little and asked, “But if you were thrown, wouldn’t you be more inclined to stick to your routine?”
“Normally, yes, but today was unlike any other day in my life, and the thought of using food to try to get me back on track just didn’t make sense. Having a specific type of breakfast at a certain time of day wouldn’t make up for the fact that I ran out on you last night after you kissed me. And before you interrupt me and say that I kissed you back, I know.” Samara took a deep breath. “Me yelling at someone for my food being too cold or not cold enough wouldn’t change that. There was this girl I was in group therapy with last year, who could not leave her house when she was a teenager because she was always afraid that she’d left the door unlocked. She would sit in a chair and stare at the door for hours, making sure the door was locked. She wouldn’t go to school or the bathroom. She wouldn’t get up to make food. She’d just wait until her parents got home because she was so terrified that she’d leave the door unlocked and someone would break into the house, steal all their stuff, or hurt someone she loved. Staring at the door like that wouldn’t prevent a break-in, though. If someone was going to rob them, they would find another way in.Of course, it’s easy for me to say that because while locked doors are important, it’s not a big thing for me.”
“Is that why you’ve left your trailer door unlocked recently?”
“That’s because I… wanted you to be able to come in whenever you wanted,” Samara replied with a soft smile. “I thought if it was unlocked, you could just walk in, and that would be nice.”
“Me specifically? Because I was on food delivery?”
“No, I didn’t do that until after you got the part, remember?”
Dana nodded and asked, “Are you even hungry?”
“Not really,” she replied. “But I can eat an appetizer or a side dish if you are.”
“I have a sandwich in the back.” Dana nodded to the back seat.
“What did you get?”
“Shrimp Po-Boy with barbecue kettle chips.”
“Do you want to stop somewhere to eat it? I don’t mind talking while you do. I might even steal a chip if they’re vegan.”
“You’d have to read the bag to know for sure,” Dana said with a half-smile. “And yeah, we can find a bench someplace.”
Samara nodded because that sounded perfect. Dana put the car in drive, and Samara tried to focus on her breathing. Shehadbeen off all day today, and normally, she controlled her food when she felt that way, but trying to fix her feelings about hurting Dana by eating a veggie burrito seemed illogical. She recalled her many hours of therapy about how that was true for most things. Making sure there were six croutons on a salad instead of seven wouldn’t help her process how she felt about kissing a woman for the first time, or there being a possibility of someone recognizing her at the bar and putting her bisexuality all over the internet before Samara was ready to share it.
When the car stopped in the middle of a two-lane street, Samara wondered if Dana was about to leave her in a part of the city that wasn’t lit with streetlights. Dana hit her turnsignal, though, looked through the back of the car, and pulled the car into a parking spot.
“I never learned to parallel park,” Samara shared. “It wasn’t on my driver’s test, but I also don’t drive myself very often anyway.”
“Not all of us have SUVs taking us places,” Dana teased as she straightened out the car. “And in New Orleans, parallel parking is a requirement unless you want to park ten miles away from wherever you’re going.”
“Wherearewe going?”
“Oh, we still have to walk about a mile,” Dana replied, putting the car in park. “I’m kidding,” she added, chuckling, when she saw Samara’s face. “It’s only a half mile.”
“Only?”
“You can make it,” Dana replied. “And if you’re done walking when we’re ready to come back, I’ll get us an Uber to drive us to my car.”
“Ha ha,” she said sarcastically.
They climbed out, and Samara noticed that Dana didn’t grab her sandwich.
