“I only know him through Gianna because he’s best friends with Benson, but he’s always been quiet and respectful. He’s rough on the ice, though.”
“Yeah,” I say, knowing firsthand what he’s like. I remember the first time I saw him skating after the puck, and the first time I saw him be aggressive. I kept it in my memory like a montage through high school. He was so quiet at school, and he transformed into something animalistic on skates. I was hooked.
“Do you guys have a lot of history?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I smile. “We go way back.”
Wednesday is a long day.
I have an eight-thirty social work theory lecture. I have a noon section where I’m the only one who has done the reading, and the TA looks at me like I’m crazy when I cite the chapter. I have a two o’clock seminar that runs forty minutes over because the professor will not stop talking about her dissertation. I get home at three forty-five. I drop my bag by the door. I sit on the kitchen stool for one full minute and stare at the cabinets because they are the only thing in the apartment that requires nothing of me.
Then I get up.
I shower. I put on soft pants. I put on an oversized t-shirt. I pull my hair up into a low knot the way Penelope does. It’s so chic on her, and I just look weird, but I keep it anyway.
I make the cookie dough at five.
I decided to make brownie cookies. Melted butter, two kinds of sugar, cocoa powder, and an extra egg yolk, because that’s the trick. I let the dough sit for twenty minutes while I dice the chicken Penelope is going to cook. I scoop the dough into balls. I line them on the tray. I slide them into the oven.
The apartment fills with a deep chocolate scent. The cookies smell delicious.
I do some reading while I wait for the oven timer to go off. When it does, I pull the tray. The cookies are perfect. I snap a quick picture of them and inhale the smell. So good.
I leave them on the cooling rack, and I drink a glass of water at the sink. I look out the window and stare at the trees for a minute. Then I put the rest of the dough on the baking sheet and plop that one in
Penelope’s at her sketch table. She’s been working on a floor plan for a community center for three hours. She’s drawing windows and erasing them and drawing them and erasing them, and I watched her draw and stare too long at the paper.
I steal a cookie off the cooling rack. It’s too hot, but I eat it anyway. It’s perfect. Crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside. I want to hide the entire batch for myself.
The girls arrive around six. Mila walks in first. She does not come empty-handed. She holds up the bottle. Penelope smiles at her. She’s also holding a small bag of Hershey’s Kisses. It’ll pair perfectly with my cookies.
She hugs me hello and then sets the things on the counter. She grabs a cookie and takes a bite.
“Oh my god. I’m going to eat all of this.”
“I have more in the oven.”
She steals another one. “You are so loved by me right now.” She leans against the counter and says, “So, remember how my dorm was a wreck after Halloween?”
I nod. She called me on Sunday to tell me that her dorm was trashed. Her roommate had a party and didn’t bother to tell her.
“Sara literally thought that a purple polka dot thong was mine. I put it on her side because what the fuck, I don’t want to touch it. You remember. I told you about it. Well, I was just home to change after class, and she put it back on my side.”
“Ew,” I say. “What did you do?”
She chews on a cookie. “Asked her why she isn’t picking up her thongs.” She deadpans, “She said she thought it was mine.” She rolls her eyes. Penelope is listening now. “I asked her why someone left their dirty panties in our dorm, and she didn’t say anything. She grabbed the thong and threw it in the trash.”
“Did you finally wash your sheets?”
“Yes,” she exclaims, taking another bite of the cookie. “Finally got them clean. God, what did you put in these? Crack?”
“Lots of sugar,” I joke.
“This is criminal. Penelope? Have you had one yet?”
“I’m waiting until they’re cool,” she answers, and the oven timer goes off again. I pull on the pink mittens and take the tray out. I grab the spatula and start putting the cookies on the cooling rack.
Mila walks over to Penelope and looks down at her drawings. “Are you kidding? Melly, have you seen this?”
