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Bea,
I’m sorry I was a dick.
I fucking miss you.
Tristan
“Who’s it from?” She stares at me expectantly.
“This guy I was…involved with.” For obvious reasons, I have not told my colleagues I was banging my brother’s best friend who also happens to be a professional hockey player.
She peeks at the basket. “Sort of seems like he still wants to be involved.”
“It does.” Without the note, I might have questioned his motives. As weird as the contents are, the message is clear.
“Do you think he wants to have dinner with you?” She’s obviously fishing.
I can’t blame her. It’s an unusual basket. “That’s a definite possibility.” I turn the basket and scan the contents. “Oh man, I have to take this on the subway.”
“Or you could Uber. Or maybe he’ll pick you up!” That possibility seems to excite her. She reminds me a little of Tally right now.
“He’s working tonight, so probably not.” They have a game this evening. It would be impossible to drive me home and make it to the arena on time.
“He must be a real health nut, eh?” Beryl says.
“Totally.”
Itake my basket on the subway. It’s ridiculous and cumbersome, and I get a lot of looks. It’s understandable. Hammer is in the kitchen when I arrive home, which puts a smile on my face. After less than a week of living together, we’ve found a groove. She loves price matching and going through the flyers with me. There’s a grocery store across the street and another one around the block. It’s still about a thirty-minute commute on the subway to my job, but the location and my roommate make it worth it.
“What the hell is that?” Hammer asks as I set the basket on the kitchen table.
My arms ache from holding it. “A gift from Tristan.”
She abandons the carrots she’s slicing into coins.
Her lips pucker. “Was this at the front desk?”
“No. He sent it to my work.”
“How did you get this home? Can we open it?”
“I took it on the subway. And yes, we can open it.”
“Dude. Why didn’t you text me? I would’ve picked you up.”
“The drive is twice as long as the subway ride.” I tear the cellophane wrapping.
“Fucking Tristan.” Hammer shakes her head. “Only he would send you a basket of dick-shaped vegetables as an apology. That’s what this is, right? An apology basket?”
“Yup.” I pass the note card to her.
“He fucking misses you, Rix.” She presses the card to her chest.
“Or he misses fucking me,” I reply. I’m still hurt about the way he left things. There’s being upset and then there’s shitting all over what we had, and that’s exactly what he did. “Damn him and his stupid sense of humor. There are three English cucumbers and a field one.”
Hammer holds up a white, carrot-ish looking vegetable. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s a daikon. It’s part of the radish family and would go well in a fresh salad, thinly sliced,” I explain.
“Huh. And this? It looks extra ribbed for no one’s pleasure.” She holds up a green, tubular, warty vegetable.
“It’s a bitter melon from the cucumber family and is used primarily in Chinese cooking. We could add it to a stir fry.”
“Cool.” Hammer is way too excited about this basket. “But I think tonight you have to make cucumber salad with a creamy dill dressing and take a photo to send to him.”
“Oh yeah. That’s a must. We should take videos and send them in stages.”
“Have you thanked him for it yet?” Hammer asks.
“Not yet.”
“But you will, right?”
I sigh.
“Seriously, Rix, just text him. Send him a picture of the basket with an eye roll but send something. You two are miserable without each other. I mean, you’re doing a good job of being fake chipper, but you’re looking at that cucumber with actual longing. And he and Flip got into a fight during practice yesterday, and my dad staged an intervention with Hollis, Dallas, and Ashish.”
“Wait. What? Why didn’t you tell me this until now?”
“Because I found out an hour ago.” She nudges me with her elbow. “Text him. They’re probably still in the locker room.”
I blow out a breath. But she’s right. I should text him. He’s reaching out, and that’s a big deal for Tristan. I find my phone and see I have a message from my mom asking if we can chat after dinner tonight. I reply with a thumbs-up and give her a time, then scroll down until I reach Tristan’s contact. Rob’s is a few down from his, with unread messages since I muted him weeks ago. I continue to ignore him and snap a pic of the basket.
Rix
You know I have more than one vibrator, right?
I want to unsend it as soon as I press Send, but it’s already done. There are so many other opening lines I should have gone with. I never did get the vibrator I threw at Tristan back. I didn’t need it. When he was away, I took Epsom salt baths to expedite the healing process, so I’d be ready to go to Pound Town when he came home.
