Joey and I continue in silence. Or, at least, my mouth isn’t moving. The Narrator Lady, on the other hand, is replaying every memory I’ve ever had walking down this same path, before she moves on to replaying that time I beat my top score in Bubble Princess Sparkles. All of it comes to a screeching halt when Joey asks, “Are you seeing anyone?”
“It’s been kind of a dry spell.”
He huffs. “Considering I’ve met your last boyfriend, it’s probably a good thing. I question your judgment.”
“Well, fuck you very much.” Kingston stops and sniffs the same trash can he does every time. “It didn’t start off bad.”
“It never does.”
Someone is hammering in inconsistent intervals, and the beeping of a truck backing up is coming from somewhere. Maybe a block over. The smell of charred meat fills the air, and it’s hard to tell where it’s coming from, other than it’s getting stronger. Kingston lifts his head to sniff the air. Come on, Jenny. Focus on the conversation.
“At first it was kinda nice, having someone look out for me. And I liked the sex. Then he started telling me what to wear, what to eat… He always had good reasons, and I guess I understood where he was coming from. But when he wanted me to stop my meds, that was the final straw.”
Joey drags his hand down his face. “Fuck. Seriously? Which ones?” We pass an orange detour sign, sending people onto our street. Now the construction sounds make sense, it's one block over. In a coffee shop window, there’s a sign for a festival… today. Hence the smells and the music. Got it. Everything is clicking together.
“ADHD and birth control,” I say. “It’s the fastest way to send my life into pure chaos.”
Kingston finds a mailbox to pee on, but it’s different from the others he normally marks.
“I mean, I liked it during sex. Tell me what to do and it’s one less thing I need to think about. But when he started treating me like shit, he instantly became less attractive.” I grin. “Like you.”
Music from the street festival, one block to the left, switches to a bass-heavy song, and the buildings around us rattle. It’s not a song I recognize, but it’s off beat with the jackhammering and construction on the street to the right of us. Both sounds battle to steal my attention away from Joey.
Joey gasps. “I’m offended. I have not treated you like shit. I simply tried to murder you, accused you of lying, violated your privacy, and questioned the quality of your livelihood.” He pauses as we stand on a street corner. He drags his hand down his face again and looks up to the sky with a loud sigh. “Yeah, I hear it now.” Then he brightly adds, “But I brought you coffee.”
I have to shout my reply a little louder because of the approaching noise. “Yeah, it sucks you were such an asshole. Otherwise, you’d be kinda hot,” I admit, and the words come with instant regret.
“Again, you offend me. ‘Kinda hot’? You’ve cut me to my core. You’d be equally as hot if you weren’t annoyingly charismatic and infected everyone I care about with your fucking sunshiny personality. No wonder Waverly likes you.”
He thinks I’m hot. Yep, gonna take that little nugget and push it to the side. Can’t have that bouncing around my head.
We turn down the street, and I stop dead in my tracks. Curse you distracting but vibrant city life. Joey looks at me with that same judgy face I’m used to seeing. Shit, he called me hot, and now my obsessions will ruin the moment.
I start rubbing my thumb against my index finger in little circles as 632 Carver Street looms in front of us. And I really do not want to go down that street.
I sigh. “You wouldn’t want to go check out the street festival, would you?” The anxiety builds, crushing my chest.
“No, too many smells and people trying to sell you things.” His answer simultaneously fills me with a sense of kinship and dread.
“And you’re going to be mad at me if we walk down the other block.” My thumb circles aren’t calming me down like they normally do.
“That would mean backtracking three blocks and crossing two avenues to bypass the construction and street vendors.” He blows out the air in his cheeks and inhales. Of course he would have a logical observation about the situation. “Not mad, but there will be lots of follow-up questions.”
The deli is only one store away, and I can already smell the salt and spices in the air. “Ok, we’ll walk down this street, and you get to ask one question… which will probably be ‘why?’ And I will give you a long-winded answer, but you aren’t allowed to ask me anything else about this topic.”
I hand him the dog leash and head into the deli. There are several pre-made sandwiches in the refrigerator case, so I grab three of them and three bottles of water. I’m not sure why I always buy three, it just seems like it’s the right thing to do.
Fortunately, this is one of those old school delis that has a tiny bakery section. The girl behind the counter looks bored and chews gum while she asks, “What can I get you?”
My selection started out as a joke for myself, but over time it’s become tradition. “The devil’s food cupcake.” I point to the perfect spiral of frosting. I must’ve bought at least twenty of these over the years, and I’ve never eaten a single one.
She grabs the cupcake by the wrapper, asking, “Anything else?”
“No, thank you.” I’d like a teleportation device, but that’s probably not in stock.
It’s kind of a struggle party to carry everything, with the cupcake in its perfect white box in my right hand, the sandwiches in my left, and the bottles of water under my armpit. I’m grateful for the paper bag the cashier gives me without charging me the bag fee. He’s seen me do this before and gives me a little nod as I walk out.
Joey and Kingston are still waiting outside for me. “Say nothing until we get to the next block,” I instruct. He puts his hands in the air, palms facing me with that “no big deal” motion.
