Milk Fed - Melissa Broder Page 0,50

Pack. Variety Pack. Variety Pack. Variety Pack.

I reached for my phone, pulled up my father’s number.

Hi Dad, I typed. Then I deleted it.

I pulled up my mother’s number.

I typed three emojis: llama, tulip, hand wave. Then I deleted them.

I pulled up the number at Miriam’s house. I called it.

CHAPTER 43

Miriam picked up the phone.

“Oh, good, it’s you,” I said. “I didn’t want your family to think I was a stalker. Anyway, I’m just calling to say thank you for such a lovely Shabbat.”

“It’s Ayala,” said the voice on the other end.

“Oops,” I said. “Hi, is Miriam there?”

I didn’t tell her who I was, though of course she knew.

“One second,” she said.

She didn’t say hello or ask how I was doing.

I heard the shuffle of her laying down the receiver, then her voice calling, “Miriam! Phone!”

“Hello?” said Miriam.

“Hi. It’s Rachel,” I said.

“Hi!” she said, sounding happy.

“I wanted to thank you so much for a lovely weekend,” I said. “Please tell your parents I said thank you as well.”

“Of course. It was our pleasure.”

I didn’t know what to say to her next.

“Did you work today?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “But only from two to seven. A cousin covered the morning shift. Dov—he’s a lazy schlemiel, and he should.”

I liked how arrogant she was. Usually, I didn’t like people who always thought they were right, but her belief in her own common sense was endearing.

She didn’t ask about my day, which was a relief because I didn’t feel like talking about it. But there was silence on the line. I wondered if she felt as awkward about it as I did. She probably didn’t. Miriam was most likely fine with leaving moments unfilled, peaceful with silent space, existing in it, letting it exist. I tried to pretend like I was fine with it, as though this was just what everyone did: sat around on the phone in silence. Then I heard people talking in the background.

“Is that your family? I don’t want to keep you.”

“Oh no,” she said. “I’m in my room actually. I’m watching a movie. Clark Gable and Jean Harlow. Something about a boat, I’m not sure. I turned it on in the middle.”

“Is it good?”

“It’s okay.”

“Oh,” I said.

I googled the movie theater on my phone where we had gone to see Charade. This week was 12 Angry Men and All About Eve.

“Do you know what’s playing?” I asked. “All about Eve.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Do you like Bette Davis?”

“Not really. But I would go see it if you wanted to,” she said.

“Well, there’s also 12 Angry Men.”

“No, no angry men.” She laughed. “All About Eve. That one’s fine.”

“Great!” I said. “Would you want to go to the Golden Dragon again?”

“Sure,” she said. “I also know another place, great kosher Thai, that’s not far.”

“We could go there,” I said hesitantly.

I was trying to re-create the magic of our first outing precisely!

“No. If you want the Dragon, we’ll do the Dragon,” she said.

“Okay! What night would you like to go?”

“I don’t know. You decide. You’re the one asking me on the date, right?”

Then she laughed. I swallowed hard. We both got silent.

“Thursday?” she asked finally. “Six o’clock?”

“Great,” I said. I would have to skip This Show Sucks. I didn’t care.

When we got off the phone, I considered her choice of words. I wanted her to mean what she’d said, that we really were going on a date. But she was probably just using the language of classic romance films in jest. And the reason she could do this comfortably, easily, was because there was no way we could possibly be romantic. It was friendship, that was it.

CHAPTER 44

Miriam was already seated at the bamboo bar, sipping her drink under the colored lights. It wasn’t a Scorpion Bowl, but some other kind of tropical thing in a coconut with an umbrella and a bunch of fruit.

“Sorry,” she said. “I would’ve ordered something for you, but I just didn’t feel like a Scorpion Bowl tonight, and I wasn’t sure what you would want. The mai tai is good and also the Blue Hawaii.”

“What are you drinking?” I asked.

“A piña colada.”

“Looks creamy.”

“No cream, only coconut milk. If it was cream, they couldn’t serve it with the meat.”

“I’ll have one too,” I said.

She was avoiding the Scorpion Bowl. She didn’t want to get drunk. This meant she was trying to stay on guard, afraid of what might happen if she let herself relax. But wait, there were more layers at play here. If she were really afraid