Page 42 of Roommating

At least I hope so.

Chapter Nineteen

That Friday night is Marcia’s first date with a man named Gary. Carley comes over to do her makeup before her show. We’re all packed into the kitchen, where Marcia sits on a kitchen chair while Carley stands over her. She wanted to record it, but Marcia wouldn’t have it.

“Your generation can share your personal business with the world if you want,” Marcia says with her eyes closed. “I’m keeping mine private. Besides, what if Gary’s on TikTok and sees me making a big deal of our first date before we’ve even met?”

Adam snorts. “I seriously doubt he’s on TikTok, Grams. But I agree.”

“Fingers crossed you like the bar.” I offered to choose the venue, and even though I don’t think of Marcia as an old lady, I also don’t want her first date in years to be loud and packed with twentysomethings like Keybar. The Flatiron Room is not too far away and described on Yelp as “a mature and relaxing environment.” Hopefully, not so mature and relaxed they fall asleep or die of boredom (or anything else). I pour more sparkling wine into my glass. I think I’m more anxious than Marcia.

Adam holds out his glass.

I refill it.

He whispers, “You okay?”

I mouth, “Nervous.”

His eyes soften. “Me too.”

An empty bottle of prosecco later, Carley finishes doing Marcia’s face. Marcia goes to her room to change out of her NYCRUNS Central Park 5k T-shirt and leggings and into her date outfit while the rest of us pace in the kitchen.

“I hope she likes him,” I say. “But only if it’s mutual.” I’d rather her not be into him than want a second date if he doesn’t.

“Most first dates don’t go well. Keep your expectations low,” Adam says.

I’m thinking of how to ask abouthislast first date without sounding like I care when Carley says, “You think Marcia kisses on the first date?”

I ponder this. “I say yes, but only if she likes him.”

“Maybe they’ll go to Bonetown.”

Adam shoots grenades at Carley with his eyes.

She laughs. “Don’t be a prude. She’s seventy-something years old, which means she’s probably had more sex than all of us. And didn’t she come of age during the sexual revolution?”

Adam grabs an orange from the bowl of fruit on the kitchen island and fakes throwing it at her. “Please stop talking about my grandma and sex. It’s bad enough when she does it.”

“Maybe he’ll be your new grandpa.” I squeal, then duck when Adam launches at me.

Marcia reappears. “I’m not looking for a new husband.”

The room turns silent as we take her in. She’s wearing a white silky top with large black buttons running down the front, tucked into high-waisted black flare-leg pants and black suede booties.

I softly clap my hands.

Carley checks her from head to toe and nods with approval. “That outfit is snatched.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It means you look good, Grams.” Adam beams with pride at his grandma.

Insisting Marcia needs accessories, Carley drags us into her bedroom and rummages through her jewelry collection until she finds the perfect heart-shaped hoop earrings and gold bangles. She also encourages her to switch out her booties for zebra-embellished stilettos she finds in the back of the closet.

This is where Marcia draws the line. “No first date is worth suffering in four-inch heels. I’ll reserve those for date three.” She winks.

“There’s your answer about the first date.” I giggle.

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