Ryland:I’ll get right on that, Kitten.
I start to text back my standard complaint to not call me Kitten, the reply as much a part of our standard conversation as the nickname, but Aspen perks up and I draw my attention to where she stares out the large glass front window.
“Oh, good the food’s here.” Aspen tracks a guy as he walks past the front and opens the door.
My mouth started salivating before I walked in this morning and I’ve been impatiently waiting for someone to feed me since I sat down. Monday through Saturday I’m iffy on the whole breakfast meal, but Sundays… Sundays are the day where we call it brunch and use it as an excuse to stuff our faces with sugary goodness. Most weekends the promise of Tahiti French toast is the one reason I get out of bed.
Except there’s a problem. The sandy blond haired man delivering our food is not wearing the normal Zazie’s uniform and logo. Nor does the bag he carries. When he starts to pull out black Styrofoam containers rather than the normal white, my brain clicks on and I face the facts. This is not Zazie’s.
“Aspen, what is this?” I ask, remaining calm for a few more seconds. She better tell me there’s been a mix up.
Her hands go up, fingers spread in demented over excited jazz hands. “The big news. Breakfast Burritos! Finn and I had them last week and I thought I’d die they were so delicious.”
“From Los Tres? I’ve heard they’re amazing, but haven’t made my way to that side of town.” Amanda rolls up the sleeves of her pink long sleeve t-shirt with a large lion on the front.
I reluctantly take my burrito wrapped in aluminum foil from Aspen when she hands it to me. “Breakfast burritos? But this is brunch.” I’m sure the burrito is delicious, but I'm equally as positive it isn’t smothered in chocolate syrup and caramel. It doesn’t smell like cinnamon and chocolate.
“Try it, Marissa. I ordered you a turkey with salsa and sour cream. You’ll love it.” Aspen finishes passing out the food and pulls her curly brown hair back into a ponytail to keep her wayward strands out of the way.
I don’t want to try it. I’m going to hate it. Am I overreacting? Maybe. Nothing is the same as it was a year ago. Back then I had everything figured out. It’s all changing. Tears begin to prick at my eyes. “We’re supposed to eat French toast,” I say to no one in particular.
“We can go back to the toast next week. This is a fun change,” Aspen says.
Simone moans over her bite. “This is amazing. Maybe we should switch to this for a while.”
Switch? A fun change? This isn’t fun at all. What’s next? We’ll support people wearing dark blue and black together as a fashion choice? My heart thumps wildly trying to escape my rib cage, and the beat is off. Oh my God, what if I’m having a heart attack? What do those commercials say you’re supposed to do? Stop, drop, and roll?
“Marissa, are you okay?” Aspen leans over and places a hand on my shoulder.
Can’t she see I’m dying? “Everything has changed. You can’t order us new food without telling any of us, Aspen. This is brunch and we’re supposed to eat French toast with bananas and chocolate syrup and cinnamon. There is no chocolate syrup on my burrito.”
She tilts her head to the side, sharing a look with Amanda.
“What’s next? Today burritos, tomorrow breakfast pizza? Why don’t we make it lunch since nothing is sacred any longer? Where will it end?" I take a deep breath trying to calm myself down, but it doesn’t work.
“This isn’t about the French toast, is it?” Aspen asks leaning closer and patting my back like it will make this abomination of brunch food become what we're supposed eat on Sunday mornings.
I toss the still wrapped burrito on the table no longer interested in eating. “What if he’s like Cody?”
“Ryland?” Amanda asks, confusion written across her face. Where’s she been the last five minutes?
I sigh and lean back on the couch forcing Aspen to move her hand. “I thought Cody was the one. I moved to San Francisco for him. Ryland is hot and rich and famous. Girls are probably all over him.” Just because I haven’t seen it yet doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to believe it doesn’t happen.
Aspen opens her mouth, but I’m still purging feelings. “He wants me to move to Italy!”
“Italy?” Simone asks.
“We’re going to buy leather.” I wave a hand in front of me to get back on topic. “It might not be Italy. It could be anywhere. He’s going to join a new team and I’ll move for a man again, but this time it will be a new country. A country, Aspen. Do you know how far away those are?”
“You’re my best friend, Marissa. You know that, right?” She looks at me with sincerity and I nod. “Then don’t be an idiot because I can’t be best friends with an idiot.”
“But…” I stammer, unable to find more words.
“I haven’t spent much time with Ryland, but you’re the happiest I’ve seen you in months. Even before you and Cody broke up. I like it. Give yourself permission and enjoy it. Grab on to whatever makes you this blissful with both hands and don’t let go.” Aspen points to Simone as if she’s tagging her in.
“I agree, Marissa. Sometimes life sucks. Anything can happen, but you’ll never know if you don’t go. Enjoy the ride while you're on it, and if later it’s time for you to get off, move on to the next adventure.”
I spare a glance at Amanda to see if she’ll give me more sane words of wisdom or tell me to run for the hills. She raises a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Enjoy the burritos in life.”
