Page 29 of My Book Boyfriend
The one day I don’t have a book in my backpack.
She faces me. There is only so much text on that poster.
Those huge, blue eyes look up at me.
“What food do you have?” I ask.
She leans forward over her cart. “Bread, milk, fruit. We can eat the bananas. Did you have dinner yet?”
“No. Did you?”
“No,” she says.
“I’ve got prosciutto and sushi for our main course, with fresh baby carrots, and Leibniz chocolate-topped biscuits for dessert.”
She smiles. “Not bad.”
The elevator shudders but then stops, heaving a big sigh.
“We’re calling the Fire Department,” the raspy voice says.
“Would you like some sushi?” I open my plastic container.
“If you’re willing to share.”
I slide the chopsticks out of the paper wrapper, separate them, and pick up a piece of salmon. I should just hand her the chopsticks and let her pick up her own. But that would be no fun.
She looks up at me as I bring the sushi close to her mouth. She narrows her eyes but opens her mouth.
Oh, God.
She holds my glance as she savors the salmon sushi.
I swallow, and my pants feel tight. I turn slightly. I pick up my own piece and eat it, the fresh salmon taste and the soft, white rice melting in my mouth, with a nice wasabi kick at the end.
There must be more to eat in my shopping basket. Paper peeks out from under my plastic deli package. Another pair of chopsticks. That’s a relief.
I hand them to her along with the open container. “Help yourself.” I take another salmon roll, facing forward. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her take another bite.
“I didn’t realize the sushi here was so good.”
I nod. “It’s especially good when you’re pressed for time.” We finish up the carton, and I put it back in my basket.
I open the package of prosciutto. “Would you like some?”
“Sure.” She pulls out her loaf of bread, rips off a chunk, and hands it to me. We both sit down on the floor and eat the prosciutto on bread. I open the bag of pre-washed carrots and put it between us.
“Where did you grow up?” I ask.
“Here.”
“I did think you seemed very comfortable in this elevator.”
She snorts. “On the Upper West Side. Where’d you grow up?”
“In the village. My parents still live there.”
“You’re lucky. My dad sold our apartment after my mom died.”
