Josh moves his jaw like he can’t quite decide on the right response. They’re stopped in front of a $329 six-door dresser. “Red, Red Wine” plays over the sound system.
“Did you ask me to help you shop because you wanted someone to smile and nod and keep their mouth shut while you refuse to help yourself?” he asks. “Because I’m not going to do that.”
“No, obviously I wanted you to experience the meatballs.” They stare at each other for a few beats while a couple holds up the paper measuring tape across the width of the dresser. Josh raises an eyebrow, expecting something more. Ari swallows. “You go to the gym a lot, so I know you can carry heavy boxes. And you’re tall so you can reach things on high-up shelves in the warehouse area.”
His expression remains stern. Concerned. Unwilling to accept her one-liners as actual answers. “Ari.”
“What?”
He folds his arms across his chest. “Why did you ask me to come here with you?”
Grimacing at his persistence, she walks over to an untreated pine dresser and pretends to examine it. “I thought you could help me pick out some pans?”
“You’re absolutely not using cookware from Ikea. You’d get the same result with a folded-up piece of aluminum foil. We’ll go to Sur La Table. Try again.”
She opens the top compartment and looks down. Inside the drawer is a crude drawing of a penis. It’s a fun surprise. Like finding a quarter on the ground. “I guess…I like being with you more than I like being by myself.” She takes a deep breath and glances up. Josh has this way of focusing on her face. There’s a potency to it. “Why did you come?”
“The meatballs.” A stranger would say his face appears blank, but Ari can tell he’s pleased. “Obviously.”
Fri, Oct 28, 5:27 p.m.
Briar: Have you looked at any of the proposals from developers?
Josh: Mom sent you after me now?
I don’t care about the proposals. It’s prime real estate on Avenue A.
Sell it to the highest bidder.
Sell it for parts.
Briar: You need to come to my deep stretch yoga class.
There’s a new instructor that’s VERY pretty
Josh: I already have a gym routine.
Briar: She has NYE date potential!
You can’t show up at a gala by yourself when your family is being honored!
That’s just sad.
Josh: Mom said you aren’t even coming.
Briar: Excuse me, I’ve had a luxury yurt booked for over a year! I will be glamping under the stars at Joshua Tree.
8
“I’M DEFINITELY COMING DOWN WITH something.” Ari is startlingly loud as she blows through the swinging doors of the Duane Reade on Broadway and Fourth Street. “It’s either a cold or diphtheria.”
“You came down with several shots of tequila and rang my buzzer at two in the morning,” Josh says, following her past the bored security guard, the cough suppressants, and an aisle of greeting cards. She hadn’t wanted to come upstairs, though.
Actually, Ari has never been to his apartment, even though they’ve watched six and a half terrible movies over the phone, ordered four coffees, shared two pizzas at Arturo’s, and this is their second—no third—joint shopping excursion.
Not that he’s counting.
“Where did you say you found her underwear?” she asks, slurring slightly.
“In my laundry. It was just sitting there,” he continues, steering her toward the cold drinks. “Mingling with my whites and light colors.”
“You have clothes that aren’t black?” She stops in front of the fridge and reaches for a six-pack of Coors Light. “Throw them out immediately. If you let your ex’s stuff linger in your home, it will slowly poison you, like the One Ring.”
Josh wordlessly takes the beer out of her hands, replacing it with a bottle of water. She barely seems to notice as she continues walking.
“Did I tell you that Cass took the time to go through every single one of the books and take the ones that belong to her? Except for one little pile. And I’m positive she left them on purpose.” Ari pauses in front of another fridge and exchanges the water for a Red Bull. “Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life? Daring Greatly? It’s all the shit the yoga teacher reads during shavasana when you just want to fall asleep. Clearly I have to get rid of them. Burn them or something.”
“You can’t burn books,” he says. “We’ll take them to the Strand and sell them.”
Ari nods seriously. “Less violent but more profitable.”