Page 31 of Roommating

Adam freezes with a glass of water at his lips and squints at me.

“What?” Do I have ink on my face or something?

He cocks his head. “Do you think mutton is deer, Sabrina?”

“Isn’t it?” I know nothing about mutton aside from it not being very popular in Northern Connecticut or New York City, the only two places I’ve lived.

Adam’s face turns red, the flush of amusement. “It’s sheep, Sabrina. Meat from a mature sheep. Marcia made lamb chops last week. If the little lamb is a baby lamb, then Mary is the sheep, aka mutton. You wouldn’t be eating Rudolph. You’d be eating Mary.”

How he says this with a straight face is beyond me. I shrug off my initial misassumption—it could happen to anyone who’s not an adventurous eater or in the culinary business—and focus on thesecond half of his statement. “I thought Mary was a child and the little lamb was her pet. Are you saying Mary was the little lamb’smother?”

A wrinkle forms between Adam’s icy blue eyes. I’ve stumped him. “Huh. I have no idea. I just assumed.” He takes a sip of water. “You think my grandma knows?”

“Pfft. Marcia knows everything!”

We laugh, then turn to the server to place our orders: the Smashing Avocado and a Golden Latte for me, and Banana Bread French Toast and an Americano for him. “Congratulations again,” I say a few minutes later after an awkward silence while we sipped our warm drinks and scrolled through our phones. “Not gonna lie, I was totally joking when I suggested it. You’ve got a pretty sweet deal right now. Are you sure you want to join the world of the employed so soon, especially for a few dollars more than minimum wage and no benefits?”

His lips quirk. “I can’t say I haven’t been basking in this break. It’s just… I haven’t enjoyed any of the jobs I’ve held since graduation. And I know most people don’t have the luxury of loving to work, but it would be nice to feelsomepassion, you know?”

I nod. I’ve known what I wanted to be when I grew up for so long, it’s hard to imagine not having a specific plan.

The server places our food in front of us. My avocado toast, topped with feta, sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, and watermelon radishes, is set atop a pink beetroot hummus. It looks like a neon culinary delight, but I worry the interruption will signal the end of this topic of conversation, and I want to hear more about Adam’s passions.

“Studying comes easy to me, but working, not so much. I have a degree in business, but ‘business’ is so vague, I didn’t know whatwas waiting for me in the real world. So far, I’ve worked for a bank, a cruise line, and a beer distributor. The last one wasn’t nearly as intoxicating as it sounds.” He smiles sheepishly.

I chuckle at the pun but neglect to mention I’ve already stalked his LinkedIn profile and know where he worked before. “I think it’s unfair to expect us to know what we want to do with the rest of our lives when we’ve barely lived. I always knew I wanted to do something with books, but it doesn’t happen like that for everyone, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” I cut into my toast and take a bite.

He drinks from his mug. “Working in a library appeals to me. So many of my favorite books from middle school are now being banned, and I love that the NYPL has started the Teen Banned Book Club. Anything I can do to give back, even if it means an entry-level job.” He grimaces. “No offense.”

“None taken,” I say honestly. Most grad students aren’t CEOs or even midmanagement. I’m lucky for any job in my field that works with my school hours. Besides, how could I be offended by someone who’s grateful that the library is fighting back against book bans and wants to give back? It’s a direct line to my heart and my unmentionables.

His gaze has been mostly focused straight ahead until now, but he turns to me. “So thank you again for hooking me up. This is on me.” He gestures toward our dishes.

I snap my fingers. “I wish you’d told me ahead of time. I was too cheap to spend the three dollars for the poached egg on top of my toast.”

In a more serious tone than mine, he says, “I thought it was a given. I know you didn’t sign up for me moving in with you guys, and you’ve been extremely cool about it. I appreciate it.”

The expression he’s wearing is so genuine that I can’t help but feel touched. My face flushes with heat but I try to play it cool. “It’s not a big deal. Just don’t make me look bad in front of Jenny.”

He raises three fingers in the Scout’s-honor sign.

“But seriously, I would never deny Marcia this time with you. What does your dad think?”

He stares down at his plate. “I haven’t really spoken to him about it. I’m on his shit list for several reasons, the least of which is reconnecting with his mother. He’s more upset that I’m wasting the Ivy League education he paid for to take a vacation from life.”

Ithink“fuck your dad” but take a bite of my toast to avoidsayingit out loud. “Well, now you can brag to him about your big job and tell him you’ll be able to pay him back any day now.”

Adam brings a forkful of French toast to his mouth and grins. “With that salary? In about two hundred years maybe!”

Chapter Fifteen

I’m starving. I want everything.” Marcia scans the expansive spiral-bound menu at the Cosmic Diner on Eighth Avenue and Fifty-Third Street with the focus of Meredith Grey during surgery. We came to the small diner near Times Square straight from the Westside GI Center, where she had a morning colonoscopy. “I must have lost at least five pounds last night with the prep. Thank God I have my own bathroom.” She wrinkles her nose.

I grimace. “I willnotbe counting the years until I turn forty-five. No offense.”

“What I wouldn’t do to go back.” She looks dreamy for a moment. “Anyway, the prep is awful, but the drugs are top-notch. I feel fantastic!”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” says our waitress, a white woman around my mom’s age with chin-length dark brown hair, with a grin.

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