Page 91 of Space Junk: Houston, We Have a Hottie
“Gross,” Trish says, scrunching her nose.
“Hey, I grew up with two boys,” Rose says. “Blame them for my ladylike ways.”
I find my glasses on the floor next to me and slide them on, blinking as things come into focus. The couch is against one side of the trailer with a mounted TV across from me, the kitchen and dining area to the left and a bathroom and bedroom to the right. There’s a twin-sized Murphy bed pulled down over the couch I slept on, essentially making bunk beds. That explains the large egg-shaped bump I’m now sporting on my forehead.
I see Trish glance my way. She’s biting her lip and I realize she’s nervous about what I think of her place.
“This is really cool,” I say to her, noting the rounded shape of the ceiling. “Is this one of those silver Airstreams?”
“Yep.”
“That’s so awesome. They look like spaceships.”
Trish smiles into her mug.
“Can you just pick up and go whenever you want?” I ask.
“That’s the idea.” Trish fills another mug from the coffee pot. “Beats having to apartment hunt whenever I move, I guess.”
“Wait, you move a lot?” Rose asks. “‘Cause that doesn’t fit into my plans. You’re just going to have to hang around Clear Lake, honey.”
“Your plans, huh?” Trish smirks at Rose and then holds out the mug to me.
“Oh, I don’t drink coffee. Sorry.”
“That’s okay, hon.” Trish puts the mug on the counter. “I have juice if you want.” She waves at a dorm-size fridge.
I start to get up, but Rose waves me back down. “I love you, but I don’t need your boobs in my back as we all stand in the kitchen.” She bends and opens the fridge. “I’ll get you some juice.”
I stay seated on the pull-out, as there really isn’t room to maneuver around two people to get to the small dinette set at the other end of the trailer. Thankfully Trish walks over the few steps to me and pushes the top bunk back up against the wall so I can sit up straight.
Rose pours a glass of orange juice and hands it to Trish, who hands it to me. After putting the bottle away, she glances into Trish’s mug. “Only weirdos drink black coffee, Trish.” Rose takes the mug I refused off the counter. “You don’t even put sugar in it. That’s not right.”
“When you grow up without money for sugar or milk, you get used to it,” Trish says with a shrug.
We’re quiet for a beat. It suddenly hits me that that is the most personal thing Trish has ever volunteered about herself.
“Well, that put me in my place,” Rose mumbles.
Trish sticks her tongue out at Rose and the tension passes.
“Okay, so I’m the pampered pussy who puts both milk and sugar in her coffee,” Rose says, proceeding to pour a generous helping of milk into her mug. In fact, she has to pour some coffee out into the sink to make room for all her milk. “Jackie makes do without and Trish, the apparent badass of the group, takes it black.” She finishes preparing her coffee with a spoonful of sugar and takes a sip. “Who knew coffee could be so fucking metaphorical?”
Trish snorts. “I don’t know whether to laugh at the fact that you’re the pussy of the group or be in awe that you know what metaphorical means.”
“Hey—I know shit.”
“Yes, you know... shit,” I say. “That sounds about right.”
Rose’s mouth hangs open for a second. “Was that a non-science related joke?” She looks at Trish, then back to me. “And did you curse?” She salutes me with her cup. “I knew I’d be a good influence on you.”
“Good Lord.” Trish rolls her eyes.
“Hey!” I get up from the couch, carefully this time and squeeze past Rose and Trish to an open shelf on the other side of the kitchen. “Are these Audrey Cole’s books?” I pull one down to confirm it.
“Uh, yeah.” Trish blushes.
“This is great,” I say. “Now I have at least one friend who can’t make fun of me for my romance collection.” I turn the book for Rose to see. “I love Audrey Cole. She’s one of my favorites.”
