I just don’t know if this is going to be my last summer considering myself a Cleveland Crusher.
The anxiety returns, gnawing and fierce.I don’t want to think about it, so I head for the fridge, which I've been dreading.The last time I was here was three weeks ago, a quick stopover before a PT session, and I'd left in a hurry and hadn't bothered to deal with what was inside.
The answer, as it turns out, is a block of cheese that has spawned a whole civilization of multicolored mold, half a bag of spinach that is now more liquid than leaf, and six eggs that I'm not willing to test.It could be worse.I carefully deposit everything into a trash bag, being sure to breathe through my mouth.
When my phone lights up with Casey’s name, I abandon the trash bag and scramble to answer.I haven’t seen her since the farmer’s market last weekend, though I’ve battled the urge to make plans with her every day since.As soon as I swipe the phone to answer, there’s static and a weird scratching sound.
“Hello?”
She doesn’t answer.More of the muffled sound happens, and then I faintly hear her voice in the background, far away, like she’s speaking through layers of cotton.
“Oh my gosh, seriously?”
“Casey?”I say, though I get the sense her phone is somewhere else, like maybe her pocket or purse.Still, I listen for a response.Because she called me.
“This is so exciting,” Casey says in response to someone I didn’t hear.I catch the undertones of a male voice, and then she says, “Griffin is going to be really happy when he finds out.He had such wonderful things to say about you.”
I’m wracking my brain, beyond curious about what I’m overhearing or who she’s talking to.I tie up the trash bag as she wraps up her conversation, and when I hear her say “Bye,” I try again.
“Casey, can you hear me?”I say into the phone.“Casey.”
There’s more rustling noise, and then suddenly Casey’s voice is crystal clear in my ear.
“Griffin?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” I say with a laugh.That warmth is blooming in my chest again, and I can’t keep the smile off my face.“What the heck just happened?”
“How are you…why….”She pauses, and I can just imagine her confused face.“Did you call me?”
“Actually you calledme,” I clarify.“When I picked up you were at the tail end of another conversation.”
“This is wild,” she whispers.“I was thinking of calling you to share the good news, and apparently my phone took the lead.”
I enjoy this tidbit more than I can express.“So what’s the good news?Let’s hear it.”
“I got the job!”She lets out a little squeal.“At Brews on the Bay!Thanks to you!”
“You serious?That’s awesome!”I wish I could be there in person to hug her, properly this time.Maybe for a full five minutes…and with a kiss at the end.“When do you start?”
“This weekend,” she gushes.“Which is good, because I need a few days to brush up on all the drink recipes.I might not remember how to make a martini, it’s been so long since I’ve bartended.”
“You’ll pick it up in no time.”I take the trash bag out of my apartment and down to the trash closet on my floor.“I’ll come out and order a random drink from you this weekend just to see how you do.”
She snort-laughs.“I definitely need to start brushing up then.We’re playing cocktail roulette now.”
“What will I order?An old fashioned?A margarita?Maybe an Arnold Palmer,” I tease.“It could be anything.”
“Hopefully it’s just the IPA you drank last weekend,” she cracks.
I’m oddly touched that she remembers what I was drinking.“I’m surprised you remember that, considering how drunk you were.”
“The color of it was nice,” she admits.I can hear a bit of wind noise around her, and it sounds like maybe she’s walking.“You looked good drinking it.I mean…with your skin tone.And your hair color.I don’t know, the palette was just right.”
I laugh, deeply tickled by the turn in this conversation.“So you’re saying the IPA and I matched.”
“Yeah.Absolutely a beer you should consider drinking more often because it complements your skin tone.”
We both share a laugh, and then she swears under her breath.“Sorry.I’m walking back to my car and this guy just hollered at me.”
