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“What’s the conversion rate of gym badge to salary?” she said, tone still light, but this time his smile dropped and he turned away.
“I’ve been working at the warehouse, you know, the one on 95. It’s not so bad for right now. Gives me a lot of time to think.” Now his tone was defensive.
“Working at a warehouse isn’t bad at all,” Shira said. She knew a lot of people in high school who’d worked at the big warehouse nearby because the hours were flexible and they didn’t require a college degree. She also knew that all those people couldn’t wait to find a job with better pay and better hours that didn’t treat them like they were toddlers who couldn’t be trusted to go to the bathroom whenever they needed to.
“I could look for something different. I don’t want to.”
“Sure,” Shira said. Quick, change the subject, change the subject. “So what else have you been up to? Do you still run? Or paint? We used to have so much fun painting together.”
He shook his head. “I twisted my knee in college and just never got back into it. Sometimes walking Neptune feels like running, though.”
There had to be something she could bring up that wouldn’t lead to a depressing response. “How’s your mom doing?” Then she realized there had to be some reason Leo was here with the dad he hated. “No, actually, did you see that story about the penguin and the fox that became best friends?”
“I’d imagine that would end poorly,” said Leo, and thank god, thank god, just then Shira heard the front door open and three sets of footsteps tromp inside.
“Hey,” Shira called out toward the front door. One set of footsteps went off down the hallway—Talia, presumably. “I’m in the kitchen. Leo’s here.”
“Oh, Leo!” Shira’s dad was the first to make it to the kitchen, his cheeks pink from the cold, a black knit hat still pulled down to his ears, which might have been due less to the cold than the fact that he was balding and, as Shira had discovered the first time she joked she could see her reflection in his head, sensitive about it. He didn’t react to the potato peels strewn all over the floor, the bowls and pans filling slowly with shredded potato on every surface, the potato glop and mush splattered on the stove. “It’s good to see you. How are you?”
“Good, good,” Leo said. He gestured to the mess around them as Shira’s mom appeared behind her dad. “Sorry about all this.”
Shira’s mom’s eyes widened so big they looked like they might pop out of her head. “What are you doing?”
“It was a latke emergency,” Shira explained. “With the deli burning down, obviously they weren’t going to be able to make the—”
“No,” her mom interrupted. “I mean, why are you doing all of this by hand? You do realize we own a food processor, right? With a shred setting?”
Shira had not realized that. She pressed her lips together. “That would’ve been good to know before my arm muscles turned to jelly. Where is it?”
It was up high in a cabinet, which meant that her parents hadn’t used it recently, either, and it made sense why they hadn’t stumbled across it. She sighed as she dropped in her first potato and watched the machine neatly take it apart. Everybody in the art community feared the idea of a machine-learning takeover, but in this moment, she was ready to bow down before her mechanical overlords. “Well,” she said, turning to Leo. “We got in a good workout, right?”
“All’s well that ends well,” he said, and they stood there and stared at each other for a moment. Shira knew her parents were still right beside them, but it felt like they were alone.
And then that moment passed. “I should go take Neptune out,” he said while Shira was saying, “I can probably just do the rest on my own.”
“Let me know if you need me,” Leo said, giving her that crooked half smile again. “I can always come back to help with the frying.”
“Thanks,” Shira said. He was probably just saying that, though. Nobody actually wanted to spend their day in front of a pan of hot oil. She was already envisioning the gunk that would come out following her face mask later that night. She stepped away from the food processor as if she were going to follow him out. “If I don’t, I’ll see you tomorrow night for the party, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he tossed over his shoulder, and he was gone.
“Never thought I’d see him in here again,” her dad mused, taking her spot in front of the food processor. She went to respond just as he pushed the shred button. He stopped. “Oh, sorry, were you saying something? Go ahead.” She opened her mouth once more, and—BZZZZZZ.
She rolled her eyes. “Very funny,” she mouthed, but she couldn’t help smiling. Her dad stopped for real this time, allowing her to speak. “Yeah, I’m glad to see him. Though he’s not in a great spot.”
“Yeah, we heard just now as we were out walking,” said her mom, who was up at the counter slicing onions while looking back at Shira. That didn’t seem like it was going to end well. “Working a dead-end job, didn’t graduate from college. His dad is worried he’s depressed. Apparently all he does is work and play video games.”
She’d figured that, but it was still hard to hear about her old friend. Hopefully feeling useful today had lifted his spirits even a little. And she still had tomorrow. Inspiration struck her: She would get him a gift. The perfect gift. Something that would pull him out of his depression, that would give him a path forward, remind him how much he mattered. That wasn’t too tall an order for a Hanukkah gift, right?
Okay. She had a lot of work to do.
4
Wouldn’t miss it. Leo’s own words tumbled around and around his head as he walked back to his house to take out the dog. Wouldn’t miss it. He’d missed so much, though, and talking with Shira had only driven the point home. Usually he didn’t care if the person he was talking to thought he was a loser. But Shira…
It wasn’t even about his job. She’d asked about his running and his art. He’d only done cross-country because his parents had made him try a sport, and then it had turned out he was pretty good at it, so he kept going. And painting? He’d never felt a passion for making art.
Only for the person who’d make art with him.
