Page 3 of Plays Well With Others

The word was lachrymose.

Another big-ass word no one uses in daily life.

But I’m committed to the learn-a-new-thing-daily resolution I made this year, so as I measured the beans into the grinder, I read the definition of the ten-dollar word—it’s an adjective used to describe someone who cries often.

Now, I’m pacing around Rachel’s block, giving her time to get dressed, and I’ve got a use for the fancy word all right. No, I don’t even try to put lachrymose into a sentence. No one can do that and mean it.

Instead, I repeat it—lachrymose, lachrymose, lachrymose—in a desperate attempt to drown out the other word echoing through my brain.

Boobs. Boobs. Boobs.

Rachel’s boobs.

My best friend’s boobs.

But c’mon,lachrymose. You can do it.

When I reach Fillmore Street, I pause, take a deep breath, and then soldier the hell on.

One foot in front of the other.

But the flashing billboard of perky beauties is too powerful.

As I walk down the busy shopping street I jerk my gaze right, then left. There has to be something on this block of Fillmore that’ll work like a time machine. Not that I want to forget the flashing. But Ihaveto forget the flashing.

I spot my favorite place for coffee. More caffeine would be a bad idea. But An Open Book is a block away. I could get a new book.

Except…look over there. Like it’s a beacon of hope calling out to me, I follow the light of the quirky new gift shop across the street. Dubbed Effing Stuff, it’s like the universe’s answer to my help-me-forget-tits prayers.

I’ll get Rachel a mug.

Yes!

We have this ongoing mug-gifting game, and it’s probably my turn. If it’s not, I can use the distraction anyway. I’ll find one that says we’re friends and always will be, whether I’ve seen her in the buff or not.

Half-buff, to be precise.

Hmm, what does the other half of her look like in the buff?

Stop. Just stop.

Rachel’s beautiful—sure, I’d have to have been blind not to notice that before. And she’s funny, and smart, and kind. She also doesn’t take herself too seriously, which I like. But those are great best friend qualities—and that’s what I need in my life right now.

Plus, I’m pretty sure the last thing she needs in her upturned life is for her dude friend to suddenly perv on her.

With blinders on, I march into the quirky gift shop. “That one,” I say to no one in particular when I spot the perfect mug.

As in, perfectly innocent. There’s a unicorn shooting rainbows from its ass.

I grab that bad boy from a shelf and head straight to the counter. “One rainbow-tooting unicorn, please,” I say to the nose-ringed woman working there.

“So cute. My little niece loves unicorns.” She gestures to the shelves behind her with bags on hooks. “Want a gift bag?”

Yes! That’ll cement the goal of this gift for sure. “That one, please,” I say, picking a pink bag.

Pink is innocent.

I take ten more minutes and another lap around the block and then head back to Rachel’s place. On the way, my alarm beeps.Haircut later. I hit snooze. If I don’t, I’ll forget it again.

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