Page 68 of The Boyfriend List
Gloria
Thinking of you! Hope you're having a great Sunday
Gloria
I miss you.
Those three simple words stare back at me. Mocking me. Reminding me that while I've been trying to outwork my self-loathing and inner turmoil, Gloria's been wondering why I'm ignoring her.
I call her. My eyes burn from staring at financial reports all day, and I'd much rather talk to her than think about my familial upheaval.
"Hi, Ria."
"Hey, Liverpool."
I chuckle at the sound of her voice, my whole body sagging into the couch cushions.
"I missed you, too. Sorry for not answering your texts. I've been dealing with some… stuff. Is it too late to ask if you want to join me for dinner?"
"I already ate." Of course she did. Disappointment floods me all the same. "But I'll join you for a late dessert."
"Perfect. How does halo-halo sound?"
"Only if you get the mango one," she says, referring to her favourite shaved ice dessert that's become one of my favourites.
"I wouldn't dream of getting anything else." I hang up the phone to run downstairs and grab a takeout container of the dessert from the local bubble tea shop a few doors down from my apartment building. While I'm there, Ialso grab their wings—five dollars for a pound—and head upstairs, waiting for my takeout to arrive.
While I wait, I try to make the apartment somewhat cozy and presentable. The kitchen-slash-dining room is sparely decorated, like most of my living space. I light some candles that Savannah gave me for Christmas a few years ago, and do the dishes that have been languishing in the sink all day. After giving the floor a quick vacuum, I think I've done a pretty good job.
The intercom buzzes, letting me know my food is here. I tip the guy, and just as I'm about to close the door again, Gloria appears in my doorway, clad in a bubblegum-pink dress that reminds me of a Barbie. Only, not the fake, plastic kind. More like the kind from the live-action movie, beautiful and glowing and suntanned.
"Hey," she says. "I brought drinks."
She holds up a tray with two cups, one of them holding a simple lemon honey drink with chunks of aloe, and the other bearing her usual bubble tea order.
"Thank you." As soon as she sets down the tray on the little entry table by the door, I wrap my arms around her.
We hold each other for a long moment, and I savour her presence. Then, all too soon, I let her go and we set up our food and drinks at the kitchen table.
"How was your day?" I ask her before she can question me about the 'stuff' I mentioned I was dealing with over the phone.
"Good!" She launches into a description of her day. I just listen to her talk, her voice a soothing balm to my ragged nerves. "What did you get up to?"
"Just some woodworking."Then I found out my parents are getting a divorce."And some actual work."
I gesture toward the pile of papers strewn haphazardly on the coffee table behind us.
"I didn't know you did woodworking," she says. "You've never brought it up before."
"It's not exactly a cool hobby like rock-climbing or motorcycling, so I never felt like it would be an interesting topic of conversation."
She rolls her eyes. "Are you saying you don't think your hobby is 'impressive' enough so you never brought it up around me?"
"Perhaps." I shrug.
"We've known each other for almost a decade. You don't need to impress me."
"Maybe, but it would be nice if you were impressed by me," I admit as I take a sip of the aloe drink. She steals one of my wings.
