“Pro-what-ins?”
“Bagels. Coffee.” When I admitted I forgot, she sighed and flopped back onto the bed. “As a New Yorker, you are useless.”
“As a friend, though, I’m pretty damn useful, especially the part where I made sure you got home safe last night.”
“Fair enough. We’ll order in.”
Ten minutes later, she had gotten out of bed, brushed her teeth, and sent a messenger to pick up breakfast from Absolute Bagels, while I scrolled through the channels on her massive flat-screen television. I stopped at a romantic comedy and muted it so I could talk to Roux at the same time. “Your doorman’s a jerk!” I called to her. “Seriously!”
“More talky, less yelly.” She winced as she came back into the room.
“Sorry. Your doorman’s a jerk.”
“I know. Don’t you just love him? I love him. He gets me.” Roux glanced down at the huge pile of clothes that were on her floor. “Clothes are hard.” She sighed. “It’s Sunday. Pajamas are allowed all day, right?”
“Sure. Hey, what happened downstairs?”
“Where?”
“In the kitchen. It looks like someone had a fight with the blender and there were no winners.”
“Huh. Not sure. Maybe I tried to make a smoothie last night.” She shrugged and flopped down beside me on the bed. “I love this movie,” she said. “It’s so unrealistic, but I love it. I’m such a sap. I’m a pine tree filled with sap.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I told her. “You need your own reality show.”
“Don’t think I haven’t tried!”
“Imagine my surprise,” I replied. We watched the movie in silence for a few minutes. It was the most calm I had ever seen Roux, her mouth moving along with the words. I wondered how many days she had spent in her room watching movies while her parents were halfway across the world. It seemed fun but not really, like being the only person in an amusement park. No one wants to go on rides all by herself.
After our coffee and bagels arrived (“Harold, you’re a curmudgeon and a beast!” Roux yelled into the intercom when the doorman rang. “Kisses!”), we sprawled on the couch in Roux’s living room. It reminded me of a museum where everything seemed expensive and sort of cold. I was sure that the furniture had been picked out by a designer who had probably never met Roux’s family.
“Oh my God, bagel, I love you! Get in my mouth.” Roux sighed happily as she devoured her cinnamon raisin bagel. I watched her, sipping my coffee and trying to get comfortable on the hard-backed sofa. “So. You were saying?” she asked finally.
“I was?”
“You needed to discuss something. Step into my office, we’re open for business.”
I picked up a bagel and twirled it around my finger. “I need to talk to you about Jesse.”
Roux froze. “Did you do it?”
“Do what?”
She gave me a look that, oddly enough, reminded me of Angelo’s “we are not amused” face.
“Oh my God, no!” I cried. “We didn’t have sex! We just kissed!”
“You kissed Jesse?” Roux screeched, then winced. “Ow, ow, my head.”
“We made out,” I clarified. “Like, multiple kisses. Plural.”
“I get it, yes, thank you.” Roux sat up so that she was on her knees. “Was it good?”
“It was …” How was I supposed to describe it? It felt like adequate words hadn’t been invented yet. “It was amazing.”
Roux shook her head. “It’s always you quiet girls, I swear. We think you’re hanging out in the library, but really, you’re just banging your way through the guys.”
“I only kissed him!” I told her, throwing a pillow in her direction and making her duck. “I don’t think that makes me the poster child for promiscuity!”
Roux just wiggled her eyebrows. “Okay, so tell me,” she said. “Everything. I like heavily detailed stories. Leave nothing out or I’ll know.”
So I gave her the entire saga: how he gave me his jacket, the front stoop, the Ring Pop, and the ice cream kisses. I even told her how soft his curly hair was and how he had told me some really intimate things. When Roux pressed for even more details, though, I shut her down. I had promised Jesse that I wouldn’t tell anyone his secrets, and I planned on keeping that promise for as long as I could.
“So,” I continued. “What do I do now?”
“That’s easy. Keep making out with him. Why are you here and not with him?”
“No, I mean, what do I do now? Like, do I call him? Do I text? Do I send flowers or a thank-you note?”
“Uh, Maggie? Jesse is not your grandmother, okay? Whatever you do, do not send him a thank-you note.”
“Okay, but then what do I do? The clock is ticking here. What if he’s already making out with someone else?” I was only kidding about that last part, but when I said it, the idea made my stomach drop. “Oh my God, do you think he’s making out with someone else right now?”
Roux waved the idea away. “Nah, Jesse’s not like that. He doesn’t dabble. He commits. In fact, I’ve heard he’s actually a little clingy, like moss. Or a monkey with attachment issues.”
“Roux. Please focus.”
“Okay. We need a plan.” She set her coffee down and folded her hands. “Has he texted you yet?”