I is for Ian

“Oh, boo, no, you know how much sugar is in those things.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop and get some fresh veggies before I get home.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said. “I should be able to get there in about a half hour. Sound good?”

“You have a key. If I’m not back, you can let yourself in.”

“Ok,” she said. “Speaking of, remind me to give you a copy of my new key. My building manager says he has to change the locks every two years.”

“Your building manager is a weird old man who just wants an excuse to be in your apartment,” I said. “Why are you still there anyway? You not living in Ashford is making me sad.”

“I know, I know. But I have to be closer to the dental office, and that’s here in Rock Hill. Just be glad we’re both still near Five Corners.”

“I guess,” I said. “Alright, hurry up. I want to eat before it gets too dark so we can pop popcorn and watch scary movies.”

“Mina, it gets dark in like five minutes,” she said, laughing. “You know my recipe takes an hour minimum.”

“Just hurry up with the wine. I need it after today.”

“Uh-oh, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here. Vamoose. Let’s go.”

“Alright,” she said. “See you in a bit.”

I headed out toward Ashford, happy to be beating the sun. At this point in the winter, the days were progressively getting longer, but since the dark started to descend in the valleys around four, that didn’t mean a whole lot yet. It was already getting darker by the time I got to the little market store on the corner of my street.

Grabbing tomatoes, peppers, onions, and garlic, I headed back home, hoping that I remembered to buy enough actual spaghetti last time I went for a big grocery shop.

When I got inside my place, I had just enough time to check the pantry and see that I did, indeed, have an entire pound of spaghetti before Amanda’s car pulled up in the driveway. As usual, she bounded inside, cheerful and excited to get cooking. She carried two bags with her into my house, one with three bottles of wine and the other with what appeared to be chocolate.

“Oh, Ames, you love me,” I said, poking inside the bag as she grabbed the pot from the cupboard and filled it with water.

“Wine and chocolate? Yeah, I know my best friend. And every other woman on the planet,” she laughed. “You want to chop vegetables or me?”

“I don’t think anyone wants to chop vegetables, but I can do it since you brought the wine.”

“Fair,” she said. “I’ll get your first glass poured, and you can tell me what happened today.”

Laughing, I went about creating the mise en place for the cook, and when I finished rinsing the knife off and dropping it in the drying rack, Amanda handed me a glass of white wine, which I took gratefully. Knocking back a big sip, I closed my eyes and let myself relax for the first time all day.

“So,” I said. “I had a day.”

“You mentioned,” she said. “Spill it.”

“Remember how I told you there’s all that construction going on at the hospital?”

“Dr. Sutton’s new offices and everything? Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, today was something else. It sounded like they were throwing live grenades around up there all morning. And then one of the nurses came in frantic that she couldn’t find any diapers and that the overstock stuff was upstairs where they were working, and we were under orders not to go up there.”

“Oh no,” she said.

“Oh yes,” I laughed.

“Anyway, I go up there, and some guy comes yelling at me telling me to stop and that I shouldn’t be up there. I lay into him about the noise and the diapers, and it turns out he had moved everything out and down on the first floor.”

“Without telling anyone?”

“Who knows,” I said. “All I know is that I was so flustered, I brushed by him and got paint all over my sleeve. Grey paint. And then when I went downstairs, Dr. Sutton was standing right there, waiting on the elevator. He looked at me like I was parading around with the paint sleeve on purpose just to piss him off.”

“Then what?”

“Then I finished my shift and came t home,” I said. “I haven’t even checked my email. I’m sure I have a memo from Dr. Sutton in there.”

“Well, you’re not worrying about that right now,” Amanda said. “This is us time.”

“Agreed.”

“So, a bunch of guys doing construction, eh?” she said, her eyes narrowing slyly. “Any of them hot?”

“That’s the problem,” I said, taking another big sip of the wine. “The one I embarrassed myself in front of is absolutely scorching.”

“What’s he like?” Amanda asked, leaning over the counter.

“Tall. Blondish hair? Maybe brownish blond? I don’t know. He looked ripped, though. His forearms did that muscley-veiny thing.”