"I got one of those cute chalkboards and wrote out all the details." Layla looks half awake, while sitting with one knee up, slumped into her desk chair in the far corner of our living room. "We could do a selfie, but I can't take a picture with you because I don't plan on getting dressed today or pulling a comb through my bee's nest, so you should just pick a place to pose."
"Do you sleep?" I ask her, already aware of the answer.
"We both know my brain won't allow that to happen," she laments through a sigh. "Come on, pose."
"Layla, I'm not posing with a chalkboard."
"It's so adorable, though. Don't you ever get jealous of all those moms who use the chalkboards for their precious children when they're starting pre-pre-pre-school?"
"No, I don't pay attention to those. Why, do you?"
"I want kids. I want to be one of those moms who makes signs for every milestone because I will make signs for every-single-milestone. In fact, just thinking of their first little poop, makes me want to make a sign for that right now. You know, I could make signs for everything involving a child's first year—it could be my next business plan."
"Dear God, Layla, have you had coffee yet this morning?"
"No, I knew I forgot something. Thank you." She stands up from her chair and shuffles toward our galley kitchen with her phone in hand. "Wait, turn to the right," she says. I do because I'm not sure what she's looking at. "Move a little to the left."
"What?"
"Just do it," she demands. "Yup, stop right there."
She holds her phone up and snaps a picture. "Crap, Layla, I wasn't even smiling."
"Fine, smile. Last chance."
"I wasn't aware I had a first chance," I tell her. I smile because God knows where this picture will end up, and if I'm caught mid-sentence with my eyes crossed, the image will still end up in that same unknown place.
"You are totally pulling off a hot, rich, put together, professional with a side of resting bitch face. I hope your day is wonderful, Mads. Byeeee."
"Bitchy?" My eyebrows rise with question as she disappears behind the open fridge door.
"It's fine. We all do. Just go before you're late."Thanks for the boost of confidence.
"I'm not trying to give off a bitchy image, just all the other stuff you mentioned." I try to smile even though she's not looking. I want to make sure I get the resting bitch face under control before I walk into my new place of employment. I'm supposed to want them to like me.
"Well, then don't smile like there's something stuck between your butt cheeks and everything will be fine."
I close my eyes and take a breath before walking out the door, letting her have the last word, as usual.
Layla and I don't argue, we just bicker a lot. We're complete opposites, but we were matched up as roommates freshman year of college and have been living together since because we both fear finding a potential nightmare roommate. Plus, we're both single, and need a place to live in this beautiful city of Boston that we can barely afford. Whatever the case is, it works and it could be worse.
