eighteen
It’s a good thing that the doorbell is broken because the pounding on the front door is already more than enough to irritate anyone. It’s Sunday, and I want to be sleeping in. My robe is only halfway on when I open the door, and I am ready to scream.
Alex sticks his hand out and presents my hat. Only this time, it’s vacuum-sealed. “I am returning your hat. And I am here for brunch.” He marches past me and sits at the table. “I do hope you have breakfast sausage this time.”
“Fine. And I do,” I say as I process the weird hat situation. “But you’re going to help me cook. It’s early, and I’m tired, and I haven’t had coffee.”
“You need coffee before brunch?” he asks.
“I do. Would you like one?”
“No, I would not. But I will wait.”
“Fine.” It’s by a thread that I contain my grumbling.
While my coffee brews and I’m inhaling my usual frozen orange juice, Alex pops his head into the doorway.
“And we’ll feed everyone?” he asks.
Everyone?
“Um, who is everyone?” It’s about all I can do not to throw my hands up.
“Everyone,” he states. “Mary Ann. Paul. Danny. Slowski. Matteo.”
“Fine.” I can handle that group.
“Nicole. Ray. And Amelia.” he adds.
Nicole, who cooks crazy-mouthwatering crepes? Yeah, I’m sure that I’ll impress her. At least Amelia from the checkout counter seems kind and less intimidating. She was so sweet to me. I start to relax slightly.
Then, I panic. “Wait. Ray? The butcher?” Somehow, I don’t collapse. But this is bullshit. It sucks, and I’m pissed. “Ray, who spatchcock-shamed me all over town? Even though he admitted he was wrong?” Now, I cannot keep any kind of grumble, much less alarm, from my voice.
“Yes. Him,” Alex says calmly. “Ray.”
“Sure. I’ll miraculously make this happen,” I whisper to myself. “I’ll make a brunch out of nothing for all of the people I don’t know or barely know and all while I can barely feed myself.”
“They will be here in two hours.”
Alex is suddenly right behind me, and I whip around.
“Dude, are you kidding me? I cannot make brunch for all of these people!”
“Yes, you can. You cooked for me and for the worker boys here the other day. Now, cook for new people.”
“Oh my God, no. It’s not the same. At all. Cooking for a crowd is way different. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” My huge groan is a sign that I’d prefer to completely topple over and run than deal with this.
Alex stands in place and says, “But we all like brunch. Just make brunch.”
“Yeah, Iknowthat we all like brunch. That’s a given. Everyone likes brunch. So, how aboutyoumake brunch for a big crew? How aboutyouhumiliate yourself?” Now, I’m pacing, and my stress and panic are causing me to raise my voice when I turn to him and spit out, “Shit, what have you done? I cannot handle this!”
Alex backs away. He’s suddenly severely agitated, his hands over his ears as he rocks harshly back and forth on his feet. “You are yelling at me! Why are you yelling at me?” he demands. “I don’t like this! Please stop!”
His reaction is not what I was expecting, and I feel awful.
“You’re right,” I say gently.
“I did not yell at you! Now, you’re angry with me!” Alex unleashes in a way I wasn’t prepared for. “I thought I was doing a nice thing, but I was not. I made a mistake. Now, you’re angry. Now, you’re angry!”
