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“Like what, specifically?”
“Tarragon.”
She looks at me.
“Stark, have you ever even been to a party?”
The old man in the corner stirs in his half sleep and I long to be over there with him. Nodding off without a care in the world.
“I freaked out, okay?” I say. “There was a sausage guy and a security guard and soup. All this goddamn soup. I couldn’t take it, so I grabbed some things and left.”
Janet looks out the window with a hand over her mouth, suppressing a laugh. She tries to hide it and now I feel worse than before.
When Janet is done finding me hilarious she says, “Would you mind if I brought a couple of things? I mean, it’s my first time at your place. You’re supposed to bring a gift.”
“Really?”
I think about all of my first times going into places since getting back from Downtown. I guess most of them had to do with chasing creeps or asking people hard questions, so, technically, not killing everyone when I walked into a new place was sort of a gift. That makes me feel better.
I say, “Bring something if you want, but I’ve got it covered. I’m going to find somebody to cook a turkey, so we’ll have warm food.”
“A turkey?” she says. “Like Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah. Everybody likes turkey.”
Janet takes a sip of her coffee.
“Huh. Anyway, it will be nice to finally see your place.”
“It’s not really mine. I’m just kind of squatting.”
“But you sleep there, right? You have stuff and no one is throwing you out any time soon.”
“I have a few things. And no, I don’t think so.”
She raises and lowers her shoulders.
“Then it’s your place.”
I like the sound of that. My place.
“Then I’ll see you at my place.”
She checks her watch.
“I have to get back to work.”
I slide out of the booth.
“Sure. Don’t let me keep you.”
Janet stands and gives me another peck, this time on the lips. She uses her thumb to wipe off the lipstick.
“See you tomorrow, Stark. I’m really looking forward to that turkey.”
I go outside into the afternoon sun, feeling a lot better than I did leaving the grocery store.
But I’m having second thoughts about the bird.
