by Ariella Papa
“Do you want to go to Johnnie’s first?” Johnnie’s is a small restaurant with a lunch counter and a couple of tables. They make the best BLTs.
“Do you ever think of anything other than food?”
“Is there anything else?” She shakes her head, but closes the cabinet. I begin to salivate.
A mere hour later, I am happily full of bacon and trying not to be distracted by all the cute dogs at the dog run when I look over some final scripts. Some day I want to have a dog in the city. If things don’t work out with Seamus, I will get a dog. But things seem like they’re working out—it’s starting to feel like a relationship. Although, he seems busier than I am.
I am not calling Tommy yet. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m going to magically move into Seamus’s fabulous apartment in the West Village. Still, it would be nice to have a fireplace (even if it’s fake) and a boyfriend with the inside track on New York’s restaurants. Okay, I have to stop this food obsession. I am getting out of control.
I think I’m starting to believe in all the work mumbo jumbo. We are in “transition” there—and I feel transitional. My apartment, my job, boyfriends, friends—everything. It’s like melancholy, but less clear. I just want to feel normal again. I don’t want to keep referring to focus groups where we pump kids full of pizza and soda and try to elicit answers we can use in Power-Point presentations to get more money. I want to feel like myself again.
I can’t focus on the scripts. I don’t want to think about Esme. When I first started working on her, I got so into it. It was like rewriting history, creating the type of person I wished I could have been.
My friends were all behind me. Tommy totally got it and knew her just as well as I did. Everyone who saw the interstitials said they were totally inspired by those little films. I even brought them home to show my parents over Christmas two years ago, and for once I thought they finally kind of understood what I did. Okay, they still didn’t get how I could be paid for doing it, but it was a start.
Now Esme belongs to everyone else. Funny how a promotion can be the fastest way to lose control. Sure, it was hard for me to let Janice and John animate her after I made executive producer, but I believed they got it. I don’t think someone in Korea who doesn’t get what it’s like to be a kid in this country would be able to figure it out. I hate that all these decisions are being made based on money, either, or that they are being made by people who don’t know jack about kids.
When I was putting the pilot together, I caved to Hackett’s suggestion about changing Esme’s sister to a brother. It was easy enough to change Ellie to Eric, but once I made the first change I essentially made it okay for all the changes. This was all a part of the job. I wasn’t doing a solo stand-up act, I was making TV. I couldn’t work in a vacuum. People had say. Fuck.
A young black retriever comes up to me and sniffs my leg. “Hey, buddy,” I say. I let him put his front paws in my lap and I rub under his chin.
“Vixen,” says his owner, a twenty-something blonde in low-rise sweats. She holds his leash in one hand while the other is wrapped around the waist of a guy.
“Cute dog,” I say, and the couple smiles at each other proudly. They give Vixen a tug and are on their way. It must be nice to have a boyfriend and a dog.
I take a deep breath and focus on the scripts. These doubts about life are only putting me further behind schedule.
I told Seamus that he could pick any restaurant he wanted and make reservations, but he could not offer to pay. I insisted. I want to establish myself as an equal in this relationship. He picked Nobu, not Next Door Nobu. Delicious, but not cheap.
Don’t get me wrong, normally I would be thrilled to go, but this time I was paying. I had made that clear. As soon as we sat down at our table, Seamus started talking omakase. Omakase is the chef’s choice. It is prix fixe, but not like a $9.99 all-you-can-eat buffet. No, there’s a bunch of courses offered for varying prices, each one more expensive than the next. Seamus assumed we would get the most expensive. I couldn’t get out of it by saying I wasn’t hungry because at least two people at a table had to do omakase. Also, there was no way I could watch Seamus enjoying all the savory Japanese treats without yearning to sample my own.
“Is this okay, Rebecca?” Seamus asks. “I would have picked somewhere a little less popular, but I remembered how you said you loved the rock shrimp tempura.”
“I do. This is great and I usually go next door, not to this Nobu.” I am flattered he remembers. I decide to forget about the tab and just enjoy. I just got that promotion and I have been paying all the minimums on my credit card bills. It is a mere token. I won’t always have to pay.
I order a mango martini and Seamus gets sake. He knows what kind of sake he wants. I have a feeling he’s been here a million times, too.
“Do you like it here?” I ask.
“I do. It’s lost a bit of its wow! but it’s still a fantastic meal for the layperson.” Am I a food layperson? “To me, nothing compares to West Coast sushi. I like Nobu, but this place in L. A., Matsuhisa, is far superior. Of course, there are arguably places in Vancouver that can rival that.”
“Of course.” I don’t always choose the restaurants when it comes to going out with my friends, but I am usually the person everyone looks to to choose the wine, even though I was learning from Seamus that my knowledge is limited. I am also the person who generally gets the “good choice” comment from the server when I order. With Seamus, I feel out of my league, yet it turns me on.
“I’d like us to try something,” he says. Uh-oh! Is this when things get kinky? “I want you to drink sake with me for dinner tonight.”
“Instead of wine?”
“Yes, I know. It’s out of the ordinary, but, Rebecca, I know some great sakes that are positively euphoric. I want you to trust me.”
“Okay,” I downed the rest of my mango martini. I could get used to this. “I’m in. Let’s do it.”
When the first bottle of sake comes, it tastes strong and gross at first, but I agree to finish my whole cup. Toward the end I could stomach it, so I took another cup. By the time we were on our second bottle, I was no longer tasting the delicious foods that were put in front of me. The cod in black bean could have been a Filet-O-Fish.
By the time dessert comes in its attractive little box, I am no longer sure what Seamus and I are saying to each other. I just know that he has invited me back to his place and I am ready to go. There aren’t too many things I like doing when I feel this full of alcohol. I was looking forward to doing one of them in front of Seamus’s fake fireplace. All my inhibitions have been cast aside. All systems are go. There was no way Seamus would ask, “Did you, did you yet?”
When the bill comes, it’s unbelievable. Despite my alcohol haze, I could still make out the amount was over $400. Not including the tip. I have never spent that much on a meal (for two!) before. Thank God for plastic.
We get a cab right away, and we kiss the entire way home. Seamus pays for the cab—I save six dollars. (Every little bit helps after that dinner.)
Seamus gives me a brand-new toothbrush. He went to the dentist just last week. He also gives me some pajamas, which I don’t understand. I brush my teeth in his bathroom, studying my spit to try to remember what I had eaten. In the morning, I will hate myself for getting too drunk to enjoy my food and for spending too much, but tonight I need a little sugar in my bowl.
I strip down to my black bra and Tabitha’s Taboos underwear and go into Seamus’s bedroom. He is lying on his back on the bed. His eyes are closed and his pants are still on. This doesn’t look promising.
“Seamus,” I say, letting the “mus” ring out at the end.
“Mmm?” He moves his head to me, squints his eyes open and closes them again. It looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands. The room is spinning, but if I make it to the bed, I will be fine. I climb up on the bed and straddle him.
“What are you doing?”
�
�Dunnnoooo.”
“You don’t.” I reach for his belt. “I do.”
“Rebecca?” he says with a question in his voice.
“Yes, Seamus?” I lean my face close to his. I start to kiss his chin.
“I think I’m in a food coma.” Record scratch. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is the fucking honeymoon period. When you first go out with someone, it’s like television sweeps. You pull out all the stops, guest stars, props, everything. You don’t eat too much, drink too much and fall asleep. Not when mama needs a little treat.
“Are you sure?” I kiss his neck this time. I rub the front of his pants. Nothing is happening. “You don’t want to…see?”
“Errrrrr.” I could get the hint. I am used to being celibate. If only I had kept up with him in the beginning, then our drunkenness might have peaked together. I roll off him.
“Do you want me to stay?” Honestly, I could have fooled around for hours, but there was no way I was getting myself dressed and into a cab. There was only one right answer to that question.
“Yes.” He pulls me into him rather clumsily. He might suffocate me. Also, he hasn’t had the chance to brush his teeth yet. I wriggle into a more comfortable position. He is spread across the bed, so it isn’t easy to get under the sheets, but I manage.
“Okay,” I say. I still hope for something. “Set the alarm for the morning.”
“Okay,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
I fall asleep soon after…and wake up first in the morning. I have a raging headache, so I can only presume how bad he must feel. He is snoring. He looks pretty cute. I get up and brush my teeth.
When I crawl back onto the bed, I am wearing his robe for maximum coverage. I have found my inhibitions again this morning. I leave the robe open a little at the top.
As I am positioning myself to go in for the kill, he opens his eyes, which kind of freaks me out.
“Oh,” I say, lifting my face up. “Hi.”
“Ugh, I feel like shit.” Then he smiles. “Good morning.”
He pulls me up close and kisses me. I don’t even mind the morning breath. I could deal for a little morning nooky.
“You got me very drunk, last night, Rebecca.” He slips a hand into the robe. It’s warm.
“Me? You are the one who was serious about the sake.”
We laugh and kiss. Okay, this is looking good. Then he pulls back. “Do you want me to go get bagels?”
Is it possible that I have found a guy who likes to eat more than I do? Perhaps he just can’t perform when he’s hung over. Questions are already forming in my head, which will likely preoccupy me if we ever do get round to the act. There is no use doing anything now. The moment has passed.
“I’ll go,” I say, sitting up. “You just rest and I’ll also get you some orange juice and coffee.”
“You’re wonderful.” He reaches out to touch my hair. I feel like we are skipping straight to the comfortable period—without the honeymoon.
I get directions to the local bagel shop, and specific instructions on what kind of cream cheese to get. In the shop, as soon as I smell garlic I am hungry again. Okay, maybe Seamus had a point. We just need fuel and then we can have some afternoon delight. I order my bagels and pick up the paper. This will be great. We’ll eat, read and see what else happens. The couples’ perfect Sunday in New York.
“Rebecca?” I turn to see Jen behind me in the bagel line. She’s been out sick all week but looks fine.
“Hey, Jen, how are you? We missed you this week. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I feel much better.” She looks nervous.
“It’s all going okay, I mean our new boss is…” I shouldn’t say what I really think. She is Hackett’s niece, and besides she has to make her own impressions. “Well, she’s no Hackett.”
“Who is?” she says in jest.
“But are you okay?” I ask.
“I think the change of weather really messed with me.”
“It has been very warm.” I wonder how sick she is or if Hackett has given her some kind of warning about more changes. “Will you be in on Monday?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine now. I feel much better. I’ll be in tomorrow.” That’s right, tomorrow is Monday. It just kind of snuck up on me—like the sake. “What are you doing around here? I thought you lived in Hell’s Kitchen.”
“I did.” That was where I had lived with Tommy. “Actually I probably will again, but now I live in Flatiron. I’m just kind of visiting someone. I think he lives on your street. You’re on Barrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool. I’ll wait for you.” I hope that she doesn’t feel like I’ve caught her doing something wrong. It’s just a coincidence.
She eyes my outfit. I had thrown on my tight silk black shirt from last night and a pair of Seamus’s sweats that are too big.
“Actually, I had a date with the guy I was telling you about.”
“Seems like it went well.”
“Um, yeah.” She gives me a look and I feel like she is Lauryn, trying to gauge whether or not I had success in the sack. You just can’t reveal those things to your co-workers. Instead, I tell her about how I confronted Janice about her relationship with John.
“I’m sorry I missed that. This is me.” She stops in front of Seamus’s building.
“What a coincidence, this is my friend Seamus’s building, too. What floor are you on?”
“The second.”
“Small world. He’s on the fourth. You’re lucky you don’t have to walk up more. There are what, ten apartments?”
“Yeah.” We go inside and say goodbye. I walk up to Seamus’s apartment and knock. He answers the door. He’s on his cell phone. He’s washed up. His curly light brown hair is still a mess. He looks really sexy. He smiles at me and doesn’t stop watching me.
“Yeah, I’ll call you later, okay. Bye.” He hangs up the phone and puts it on the fireplace mantel. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
“You look good in my sweats.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll help you take them off.”
“Thank you…”
By the time I remember to mention that Jen lives in the same building, I am otherwise occupied.
On Monday morning, I am tired, but I have a much better perspective on things. I did not spend Sunday with The X-Files or with Mr. Wizard. Instead, on Sunday night, Seamus and I went to Brite Food Shop, in my neighborhood, because he hadn’t been there. He really enjoyed their Asian Latin Fusion and was way into his white-bean-and-wild-mushroom quesadilla.
I am thinking of considering him my boyfriend. It was still a bit strange to have sex with someone new, but there was a point where I just relaxed and it all happened the right way. Once. That’s a start.
If we are going to be in a relationship, I think the best thing to do is to keep my living situation a secret. I hint over dinner that I might be moving soon. He has work to do tonight, so he doesn’t come over.
Lauryn doesn’t say a word when I get in. She just raises an eyebrow. I give her a thumbs-up and she slaps my hand with more fervor.
“What should I do with the TV?”
“Storage?” I suggest.
“Okay, but if you and Tommy aren’t living together anymore, you should take it. Have you made your decision yet?”
I have, but I haven’t told Tommy. I don’t want to think about him today. I just want to enjoy the good day I had with Seamus. I’ll call Tommy tomorrow after my meeting with Delores. Then I will surely appreciate the sound of his voice.
Delores is wearing a very long skirt that flared out like a mermaid’s tail at the bottom and an oversize dull gray shirt. If I were four-nine, I would have dressed a bit better, but I’m not going to be catty; I have gotten laid.
“How was your weekend?” she asks brightly.
“Oh, it was great.” I decide to try a new approach. Maybe we could be friendly. “I had a date. How was yours?”
; “What weekend? I worked all weekend. I thought my junior year thesis at Harvard was difficult, but it was nothing compared to this.” Perhaps she’s bitter because I’m glowing with post-date happiness.
I will not be tricked into friendliness again. If I went to an Ivy League school would I reference it in every conversation? No, I would like to think I would be confident enough to let my capabilities speak for themselves. I try to smile like I understand how tough it is for her.
I listen politely as she starts to go over budgets. I want to tell her that Explore! has more money than any division. It isn’t her money, yet for some reason she is explaining to me how she wants us to fill out forms in triplicate and how it’s my job to tell Janice and John about it.
“Also, I am curious as to why you signed this expense report for Janice from last week. What was this two hundred dollars used for?”
“It was a business meeting,” I say. I knew it was a mistake to listen to Don Beckford. He is able to squirm out of anything. I, on the other hand, agree to anything once I get a few drinks in me. I have a quick flash of Tommy’s Facts of Life fantasies. “Anyway, Hackett signed off on it.”
“Also, I wanted to talk to you about Kim’s attendance.”
“Whose?” She is confused and looks down on her desk at some papers. She’s vacillating between confusion, giddiness and downright condescension.
“I think you mean Jen.” I decide not to tell her that she’s Hackett’s niece. “She was ill, but I think she’s okay.”
“Wonderful. I think we’re going to have to have a meeting about punctuality with John and Janice.”
“They’re here until eleven at night sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” she parrots. “Please set that up. Also, I look forward to getting your calendar today.”
“Right,” I say. “I’ll send it ASAP.”
Perhaps I can avoid her. Maybe I can keep her at bay with constant e-mails and forms filled out in triplicate. Triplicate? We have deadlines! Instead of meetings and excess forms, we should be working.