Adult Assembly Required, page 18
“Good night, Bob,” she said, her voice drifting back.
“Good night, Laura,” he replied, not even sure she’d heard him.
TWENTY-FOUR
The next morning Laura woke to the sound of birds and for a minute forgot where she was. Her childhood bedroom had been in the middle of her family’s apartment, with a small window that opened onto the building’s central air shaft. She’d woken every morning to the feathery elbowings of pigeons roosting on the air conditioners that lined the interior of the building. If it was summer, those air conditioners would be humming, and if it was winter, the pigeon conversations would be drowned out by the clanking and hissing of radiators. In the distance the cadences of sirens would rise and fall against the frequent singing, yelling, or uncontrollable laughter of neighbors.
The light had always been dim in her room, the lamps on throughout the day. Here the sun poured through the windows with almost indecent enthusiasm, pushing the curtains open. The birds were beside themselves with excitement about something, and she felt herself wanting to leap up to go see what it was. She could hear someone whistling in the garden, and wondered if it was Bob. She stretched luxuriously all the way down to her toes and debated whether to get up and go to the pool or turn over and go back to sleep. Then her phone rang. Laura looked at it. Huh, nearly ten. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was an LA area code, so she answered.
“Good morning!” The voice sounded much more awake than she did, and it clearly had goals. “It’s Nina, did you have breakfast yet?”
Laura propped herself up on her pillow and warily hit the speaker button.
“No, I’m still in bed.”
She could hear Nina suck in her breath. “Alone? Or with Bob?”
“Nina, one, you’re on speaker, and two,” said Laura firmly, “Bob is not a thing. Don’t get pulled into Polly’s reality-distortion field.”
Nina rolled on. “Whatever. I woke up surprisingly early this morning and thought I could possibly tempt you to do trivia practice in return for another wrist massage. Or do you already have exciting plans for the day?”
Laura frowned. “No, I have no plans, exciting or otherwise. I was thinking maybe I would swim . . . but that was as far as I got.” She paused. “Bring a swimsuit and you can do some rehab in the pool.”
“Nope,” said Nina cheerfully. “Think of me as a cat carrying original engraved plates from Birds of America by John James Audubon. Water and I are natural enemies, sworn to keep each other at bay.”
Laura looked at the ceiling. “Do you always wake up talking like this?”
“No,” said Nina honestly. “I am not a morning person, but the possibility of winning the trivia tournament is strangely motivating.” She paused. “I’ve been up since six. I’ve had three cups of coffee. I’ll bring bagels.”
Good lord. Laura said, “I do enjoy a bagel, but I am definitely going to swim.”
Nina laughed. “Great, I will shout questions from a safe, splashless distance. I’ll see you in a little bit. Go wake up Polly, she loves an everything bagel.” She hung up, clearly on the move and getting shit done.
“Will do,” muttered Laura as she levered herself out of bed and reached for her dressing gown. She found herself smiling—she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed the friendship of other women. Nick had taken up most of her time, and she was saddened to think how few girlfriends she actually had back in the city. Her mother had been right when she’d said no one else would want her contact info.
Laura was stiff and achy from gardening the day before, but it wasn’t too bad. She’d loosen up by the time she was dressed, and in fact started feeling better as she clumped upstairs to knock on Polly’s door.
“Urmph?” said a voice from beyond the door. At least, Laura assumed it was a voice; it could have been some polite but ungainly monster who was in the middle of eating Polly and wasn’t going to talk with its mouth full.
“Polly?” said Laura gently.
“Wahrphs?” said the voice, now sounding like it was coming from under a pile of leaves.
“Nina’s coming over,” said Laura.
“Humph,” said the voice. There was a definite subtext of So?
Laura raised her voice slightly. “And she’s bringing you an everything bagel.”
Two seconds later the door flew open and Polly stood there in immaculate silk pajamas—which were NOT what Laura would have guessed Polly wore to bed. They were daffodil yellow and had her name embroidered on the pocket.
“Well, in that case,” said Polly, in a completely awake and totally compos mentis tone of voice, “I’ll be right there.”
* * *
• • •
There was a rose in a bud vase in the bathroom. Laura paused. Had it been there the night before? She wasn’t sure. She bent to sniff it, not even needing to get too close to be overwhelmed by the buttery lemon scent. It wasn’t one of the ones from Nick, so Bob must have put it there. She smiled, touched.
Once she was clean and dressed, Laura felt more ready to face the day. Or at least to face trivia. When she walked into the kitchen, Nina had arrived and she, Polly, and Maggie were milling around, preparing bagels and filling the room with the pleasing scent of toasted sesame seeds and onions.
“Aha!” said Nina, holding yet another cup of coffee. “There she is, our sports and science expert. Trained since birth in batting averages and world records, she will lift our team to greatness!”
Laura gazed at her. “Nina, I have to tell you something. I don’t do well until I’ve had a cup of tea. You are welcome to talk to me, at me, over me, whatever it is you have in mind for this, but until I’ve achieved optimal blood caffeine levels, there is no point in expecting an answer.”
Normally, Laura wouldn’t have said something like that, but Los Angeles was doing something to her. Her mother would say it was giving her an attitude, which wasn’t a good thing, but Laura thought maybe all the sleep and good food had something to do with it.
Nina immediately understood. “Sorry,” she said. “I do sympathize, I’m totally aware that I’m a bit over the top this morning.” She looked at Polly, who was leaning against the sink eating a bagel and occasionally shaking it over her shoulder to loosen the crumbs. “You know how I get.”
Polly chewed her bagel, then said, “We usually cut her off after two cups at the store, but this being a Sunday, she had no structure in place.” She shrugged. “I’m going to keep my head down and pray for your kidneys.”
“Caffeine is processed by the liver,” replied Nina.
“I’ll expand my prayer coverage.”
Laura looked at the bagels. They did look delicious, but she went to the fridge instead. She pulled out unsweetened Greek yogurt and berries, then added granola and finished it with a drizzle of raw honey.
Everyone else had fallen silent as she did this, and eventually she lifted her eyes from her breakfast and said, “What?”
Polly swallowed. “We’re all eating bagels and you’re making us feel bad by choosing something healthier.”
Laura shrugged. “Look, I grew up in a kitchen with a metal sign that said ‘If it isn’t bacon, it isn’t breakfast!’ ” She took a mouthful of yogurt and honey and spoke around it. “California is supporting my healthier habits, and I’m fine with that.” She shrugged. “Sorry not sorry.”
Maggie, who had balanced smoked salmon, capers, onions, and tomatoes on a bagel half and then successfully eaten the whole thing without losing a single element, nodded. “Los Angeles changes people, what can you do?”
Nina stared at them and then blurted out, “Did you know that capers are actually little flower buds and are stuffed with antioxidants?”
“Is this on the test?” asked Polly.
* * *
• • •
An hour later Nina was looking at Laura with such anticipation it hurt. They were still in the kitchen, still sitting around the table, but with only half an onion bagel left. Herbert had his eye on it and Daisy would have, too, if she’d been able to see the top of the counter.
“Can we stop yet?” asked Laura. “I really want to swim.” She’d run out and purchased a regular swimsuit on Friday and was keen to try it out.
“Not yet,” said Nina. “You’re doing so well.”
“I didn’t get any of the movie ones,” said Laura, sighing. “How is that doing well?”
Nina took a breath. “Firstly, we don’t need help with movie trivia, I was simply checking the range of your knowledge.” She paused, and was clearly torn between good manners and curiosity. “Can I ask . . . did you grow up without cable?”
Laura reached for a banana and peeled it. “We had cable, but we only watched documentaries and approved movies.”
“Shocking,” breathed Polly, who was still recovering from the discovery that Laura had never seen Saved by the Bell.
Nina flipped through her stack of cards. “Fine, I’ll focus on your strengths: What are the three smallest bones in the body?”
“The ossicles,” said Laura. “They’re three tiny bones in the middle ear.” She turned to Polly. “The smallest one, the stapes, is only three millimeters long.” Polly was smiling encouragingly, so she added, “That’s about the same size as a sesame seed.”
“Amazing,” said Polly, who really couldn’t have cared less, but enjoyed being supportive. “Did you ever watch The Big Comfy Couch?”
“No,” said Laura. “Was that a TV show?”
“Yes, and pure nightmare fuel. Speaking of which, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark?”
“Yes. Books were totally encouraged.”
“Focus, people,” said Nina. “What is a pyrogen?”
“Something that gives you a fever,” said Laura.
“In what year was the first female referee featured in an NFL game?”
“Twenty twelve. That was a sports question, I thought we were doing human anatomy?”
“Laura,” said Nina, “the whole point of trivia is that they can ask anything.”
“What is a male swan called?” said Polly. “For example.”
“Or what was Alexander Graham Bell actually working on when he discovered the telephone?” added Maggie, who was an occasional stand-in member of the team. She was reading the Sunday New York Times and working on her second cup of coffee. Daisy was curled up by her feet, having been given the end of Maggie’s bagel.
“Or which US state name ends with three vowels?” finished Nina. “You have to be light on your feet, ready for anything.”
“Well, I’m not, as we already proved,” said Laura. “I have no idea what a male swan is called. Mr. Swan?”
“A cob,” said Polly. “Female ones are called hens.”
“Good to know,” said Laura. She turned to Maggie, who said “the hearing aid,” and then to Nina, who said “Hawaii.”
“Can I swim now?” said Laura calmly.
“Where was the world’s first parking meter installed?” asked Nina, with a slightly cheeky expression on her face.
Laura got to her feet. “One, I don’t care, and two, if you want to keep questioning me, you’ll have to follow me to the pool.”
Nina looked at her laptop. “Fine, I have plenty of charge, let’s do it.”
* * *
• • •
The pool was very different under the midday sun than it was in the evening, but the water was as cool and invigorating as ever. Laura dove straight into the deep end, and while the others arranged their towels and computers and newspapers and dogs to their liking on the loungers, Laura swam lengths and woke herself up completely.
Eventually she climbed out and went to sit by Nina, who was as much in the shade as she could be.
Nina frowned at her as she approached. “You’re a little bit too energetic, I’m not going to lie. You’re not going to try and talk me into getting fit, are you?”
“No,” replied Laura, “although you might like it.” She reached out. “Can I see your wrist, please?”
Nina let her examine her forearm. “It feels fine, I doubt we need to do anything.”
Laura ignored her and started gently stretching and massaging Nina’s hand.
“That definitely feels sore,” said Nina, then added, “How’s it going with Bob?”
“They went gardening yesterday,” said Polly. She raised her eyebrows. “Which is my personal nomination for worst date idea ever, but to each his own.”
“It was fun, I met people, I did things.” Laura shrugged. “But it was in no way a date.”
“Did you eat food together?” asked Polly.
Laura nodded.
“Date,” said Polly.
“I hate dating,” said Nina firmly. “If Tom and I break up, that might be it for me. I don’t think I can go through the first part of a relationship again.” She shuddered.
“I like dating,” said Polly, “because I’m only really interested in, like, a quarter of a person.”
Nina looked at her. “Do you mean a quarter of people? Like, one in four people?” Laura was stretching her fingers apart, having interlaced her own fingers with them, and it felt amazingly good. Just think how fast I’ll be able to turn pages after all this loosening up!
“No,” Polly patiently explained, “I mean like a quarter of a person. When you’re dating, you only share a small part of yourself, right? You don’t use all your material, you bring out your best stuff, the top twenty-five percent. You dress well, you think about what you’re saying, you’re a considerate lover . . . Once we start digging into more established, everyday personality traits, I start wanting to bounce.” She sighed. “I remember one time I was about six weeks into a dating thing, and we decided to go away for the weekend. Up until then the guy had been hilarious, charming, and devoted to oral sex. So, I’m lying next to him in bed and he starts booking the trip. Twenty minutes later I’m hopping up and down pulling on my jeans because he turned out to be a cheap, fussy traveler who needs to use air miles whenever possible and reads every single review, starting with the ones that give one star.” She lay down on the lounger and closed her eyes. “Most guys I’ve dated are only about twenty-one percent interesting, which is usually good for about three months.”
There was a small silence, and then Nina said to Laura, “The thing to remember about Polly is that she’s a scientist at heart. The rest of us are merely subjects for study.”
TWENTY-FIVE
A little while later, after Nina headed off to meet her boyfriend and Polly left to do whatever it was she did on a Sunday afternoon, Laura found herself standing outside her bedroom door. She was still in her swimsuit and needed to get changed, but she was conflicted. Without a doubt the noises coming from Bob’s room meant he was watching the baseball game, a game she was about to go into her own room to watch. On the one hand she’d spent most of yesterday with him, and he was probably sick of the sight of her, and on the other it’s much more fun to watch a game with someone else. As she dithered, Daisy trundled past her and paused briefly, looking up at Laura and apparently reaching some internal conclusion, because she then beetled on and scratched loudly at Bob’s door. Bob opened it, and saw Laura.
Holding the door for Daisy, he said, “Hi there, is the game too loud?”
Laura shook her head. “No . . . what’s the score?”
Bob’s face lit up. “It’s three-two Phillies, top of the third, you want to come and watch with me?” He blushed slightly. “I’m actually rooting for the Yankees in this game, but only because the Dodgers need them to beat the Phillies . . .” He faltered, looking at her face. “Not a Yankees fan?”
Laura looked horrified. “Of course I’m a Yankees fan. I was making a face because I realized you’re probably a Dodgers fan and it’s going to make for tension around the breakfast table.” She assumed a tragic expression. “Not everyone deals with failure very well.”
Bob narrowed his eyes. “You’d think Yankees fans would be used to it.”
The rivalry between the New York Yankees and the Los Angeles Dodgers was one of the oldest and fiercest in the country, and Laura was delighted at the prospect of keeping it alive on a super-local level, i.e., across a hallway. She smiled. “I’d love to watch, let me get changed and I’ll be right there.”
Bob looked genuinely pleased. “I’ll get some chips and dip.” Wow, Bob, he told himself, you really know how to show a girl a good time. Chips AND dip? Yet strangely, Laura looked equally as happy as he did at the prospect, and as she went into her room to get changed, he hurried off to the kitchen to gather snacks. If anyone had been listening, they would have heard him humming.
Laura tugged off her swimsuit and wondered if it was weird to be so excited about watching a baseball game while eating chips and dip. Throughout her teenage years she’d watched her friends go nuts about proms, dances, house parties, and other social events. She’d join them to get ready and be mildly amused by all the clothes and makeup and tissues in bras. Laura wasn’t antisocial; she went to everything and had a reasonably good time. But she didn’t like drinking or smoking pot, and she really, really hated drama of all kinds. While her friends seemed energized by scandals and intrigues and romances, she got a stomachache and the urge to run for miles. Her happiest times were spent at Yankee Stadium with her grandmother, or curled up in front of the TV, yelling at the game. Her parents ignored her sportiness as long as she was the best at whatever she was doing and kept her grades up, much as other parents ignored occasional drunkenness or a deep and abiding commitment to Korean boy bands. She’ll grow out of it, they assured themselves, she’ll narrow in on an area of academic study and all this running around and sweating will fade away. It hadn’t.
