Page 62 of The Woman in 3B
I didn’t have a TV. I didn’t pay for cable, so there was really no need for that purchase either. Nights at home were spent streaming TV shows and movies on my laptop on the subscription services I shared with other friends.
I didn’t have a dining table. I did have two stools at my kitchen island, but I ate most of my meals standing up. It was a bad habit picked up from work. On a plane, I tended to hide in the galley and shovel food in my face out of passenger view and in between services. I’d started to do the same, sad thing at home, facing the kitchen wall and devouring my food in no time.
I reflexively opened the refrigerator door even though I knew what I’d find. Not much of anything. I hadn’t been grocery shopping in a shockingly long time, even for me.
“Can I get you something?” I routinely offered.
Anissa came up behind me and peered over my shoulder into the refrigerator. Her hands fell to my waist in an innocent, but intimate gesture. “What do you have?”
“A tub of butter and a bottle of ketchup.”
She pressed her lips close to my ear. “How about we order a pizza?”
I shut the refrigerator door. “You’re a goddess.”
“You’re pretty free and loose with those comments,” she smirked.
“Maybe I think you’re totally deserving of them,” I proposed.
Anissa pulled out her phone to search for a pizza delivery number while I tried to low-key pick up my apartment. I hadn’t really thought about what we might do after the game, but I also hadn’t anticipated us coming back to my place. Her house was significantly closer to the stadium, and it was an actual house, not a 700-square foot apartment.
“Detroit-style pepperoni sound good?” She held her hand over the bottom of the phone.
I gave her a thumbs-up sign of approval.
I walked over to Honey’s aquarium while Anissa finished the phone call. I tapped against the glass, causing Honey to slide off of her floating island and crash into the water. My turtle and I shared the same level of physical coordination.
“Pizza will be here in half an hour,” Anissa announced. She ended her phone call and slipped the device into the back pocket of her jeans.
She walked toward me; the wooden floor creaked under her feet. “What’s in your aquarium?” she asked.
“Honey.”
“Honey?”
“She’s my pet turtle,” I explained.
Anissa stood beside me and hunched over to get a better look. “I’ve never met anyone with a pet turtle before.”
“Well, now you have,” I remarked.
Anissa continued to stand in the bent over position while we watched Honey together. “It’s very peaceful watching her swim.”
“Mmhm,” I agreed. Without proper television to entertain me, I sometimes poured myself a glass of wine, put on some ambient music, and watched Honey float around in her tank.
“Why did you name her Honey?” Anissa asked.
“It’s really dorky,” I resisted.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
“It’s dumb.”
Anissa straightened. “I’ve had a terrible day, Alice,” she reminded me. “I need this.”
I frowned. I’d nearly forgotten the reason we’d left the game early; it made me feel terrible. Anissa didn’t have that luxury. “I’m so sorry about that. I wish I’d been able to do something.”
“Stop deflecting,” she chastised. “I want to hear your turtle’s origin story.”
