Page 54 of Fun Together
I laugh. “So you live with your parents?”
“Currently, but I’m trying to find a place.”
“I got lucky when this apartment became available. Even though I think something is living in my walls. The other day I heard what I’m pretty sure is a family of squirrels scurrying above my head while I was making dinner.”
“See? You don’t live alone.” His voice is groggy, and I like to imagine he’s got me on speakerphone, his phone resting on top of his chest while he’s talking to me.
I don’t say anything for a few seconds, and he doesn’t either. “I think it’s the sleeping alone part that’s hardest,” I finally say, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah, I get that.”
“I’ve been eyeing this really nice sherpa body pillow for a while now.”
“That’s very sad, Faye.” I like when he says my name, even when we’re not talking about anything important.
“Or very comfy?”
He laughs. “You’re right. I won’t judge.”
I feel my eyes starting to get tired. “I think I’m going to try to sleep now.”
“See you in the break room for coffee in the morning?” he asks.
“Sounds good,” I say before drifting off.
17
Eli
Two weeksinto being a plant dad and I’ve already encountered my first emergency.
One of the pothos has two dead leaves and I’m trying not to freak out. I’ve frantically flipped through the binder and don’t see anything in the FAQ section related to this problem with this plant.
Wow, have I managed to create a never-before-seen plant ailment?
I even Googled it and that didn’t help. Everything I read said things like, “This plant is impossible to kill!” or “If you manage to killthisplant, you might as well killyourself!”
Obviously, the easiest route would be to text Andrew and tell him that we have our first casualty. But what if this is a special plant to him? And then he decides to cut his trip short just to fly back to deal with a problem I’ve created? No, I refuse to text Andrew about this because I don’t want to admit that I couldn’t handle this relatively simple task.
The only person I can think to ask for help from is Faye. It’s shitty, but maybe she will know some sort of secret trick about this plant from living with Andrew for so long.
I dial her number, hoping she isn’t still at work. It’s 6:30, but she always stays later than I do so I wouldn’t be surprised if she was still there.
She picks up on the third ring. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey, are you busy?”
“I’m still at work. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything is fine . . .”
“Why do you sound like someone is dead?”
I look down at the dry crackled edge of what was once a beautiful green leaf. “Well . . .”
“Oh my god, Eli. What happened?”
“Nopersonis dead.”
