Milk Fed - Melissa Broder Page 0,66

end. I was going to die in a talent management office kitchen. The microwave timer was at 54 seconds. My pizza started to bubble.

“Everything is fine,” I said, staring at a mushroom on the bubbling pizza.

I wanted to disappear under the mushroom, just tuck myself into the warm pizza cheese and drape the mushroom over me like a blanket.

“Are you eating differently?” she asked. “It seems like you are. I know you indulge in the snacks here at the office more now.”

I felt tears come to my eyes. The timer was at 41 seconds.

“Do you think I look bad?” I asked.

“No, not bad,” she said. “But I did notice.”

I couldn’t believe that I’d gotten to this place. I was angry at myself. I was angry at Ana too, for saying what she said. But I was most angry at Miriam. From the very first bite of the yogurt with the sprinkles, she had led me to this territory. At times I’d felt courageous on the journey, but it was borrowed courage. Now we were here, and neither of us had a plan. Was she going to abandon me, leave me stranded in my body? I’d be in exile with a stomach that demanded more of everything.

No one is abandoning anyone, I said to myself.

How do you know? I replied.

“Well, thanks for telling me,” I said to Ana. “I appreciate it.”

“Just looking after you,” she said.

The timer on the microwave went to 2, then 1, then 0. It beeped three times. The light went out. My pizza was done.

CHAPTER 59

Miriam and I were lying in bed in my empty, white bedroom. It was the sixth day, the one where god created all the animals—the cattle and sheep and beasts of the Earth. It was the Adam and Eve day, the “be fruitful and multiply” one. She was on her back, smoking a clove, tapping the ashes out my window into the night. I was wearing leggings and a T-shirt, and I’d wrapped myself around the side of her thigh. She had just come. I traced the crease of her pussy and made little designs with her own moisture across the canvas of her belly.

“You know what I miss?” I asked, taking the clove from her hand.

“Hmmmm,” she said.

“That challah,” I said, taking a puff of the clove. “That Shabbat challah. The amazing one your mom served.”

“It’s delicious, isn’t it? I know where she gets it. I’ll bring you a loaf.”

“Okay,” I said, exhaling up to the ceiling and handing the clove back to her. “Although I wouldn’t mind having it with some of that cholent too.”

“That’s a little bit harder to bring,” she said. “Though if I come over this Sunday, I could put it in a Tupperware. It’s meant to be eaten for a few days, and we always have extra.”

“Okay,” I said.

We were both silent. She took another puff of the clove, then stubbed it out in a bottle cap on the windowsill.

“I thought maybe I could come to Shabbat dinner tomorrow night,” I said. “That is, if the invitation is still open.”

“It is!” she said quickly, a little too quickly.

“Good,” I said.

“I mean, you know my mother liked you. And you are always welcome.”

“Great!”

“It’s just. I mean. We can’t do any of this,” she said, gesturing to her naked body and my clothed one.

I took my hand off her belly.

“No, no,” I said. “Of course not, not in your parents’ house.”

“Right, but I just mean—like, we can’t even hint at the fact that this has gone on, you know?”

“Hint how?” I asked. “Like, I can’t get you naked at the dinner table?”

“No.” She laughed. “I just mean no kisses or anything.”

“Of course not.”

“No hand-holding.”

“No hand-holding. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

She kissed my cheek.

“Hey, where do they think you are, anyway?” I asked. “All these nights. Where do they think you’ve been spending your time? Do they know you are always with me? What kind of friends spend every single night together? It would be a lot, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh no,” she said. “They don’t know I’m with you. They think I’m interning at a movie theater.”

I laughed out loud.

“Interning? At a movie theater?”

“Yes,” she said. “Why is that funny?”

“I’ve just never heard of anyone getting an internship at the movies. Anyway. So tomorrow is good?”

“I don’t know about tomorrow. Adiv is home visiting.”

I didn’t understand what Adiv being home had to do with it not being a good night for me to come.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I didn’t say anything.

“Do