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Authors: Gemma Burgess
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word, I guess. I felt secure.
Who knew sharing felt so good? I mean, I hated all those late-night compulsory deep and meaningful heart-to-hearts at school, remember them? When all the girls eat junk food and one girl talks about her parents and another talks about her abusive ex-boyfriend and another talks about her body issues and another talks about whatthefuckever and at the end everyone has a Care Bears hug and then the bulimic sneaks off to puke. I wasn’t really invited to those talks, mind you. But I was in the dorm when they happened.
Anyway. During my confession, Coco got tears in her eyes, Madeleine frowned, Pia gasped, and Julia clenched her fists and muttered “ Those fuckers ” a lot.
It should have been the easiest to confide in Pia. I’ve known her, literally, since I was born. But somehow, I felt most scared about her reaction. Maybe because she was always having her own crises, maybe because my parents aren’t exactly the pull-up-a-pew types, but I’ve never really burdened her with my problems before. I always kept everything to myself. Sharing things felt, I don’t know, like complaining, like asking for help, like saying I couldn’t handle life, like I was weak. Keeping my secrets to myself felt like the only thing I could do … well, keeping my secrets, drinking, and falling for the wrong men.
Letting my friendship with Pia drift is just as much my fault as hers, I’m finally realizing. Maybe more my fault. How can she be around for me if I never tell her I need her?
“So that’s that,” I say finally. “From today, I’m just going to stay single and concentrate on my career. Get a damn job.”
“No you’re not,” says Julia. “It’s Saturday. You can get a damn job on Monday. Today you’re making up for the whole curtain thing by coming with us to Smorgasburg.”
“You’re all going?” I don’t want to be alone, not when I’ve got so much to think about. And to try not to think about. “Pia? Even you?”
“Yep. Aidan’s in San Francisco till tonight, he had some work thing,” says Pia. “It’s a special presummer preview event. I’m going as a corporate spy.”
“She means she’s checking out the competition,” Julia explains to a confused Coco. “We’re going for the dudes.”
“Smorgasburg doesn’t worship at the altar of SkinnyWheels?” says Madeleine, making a pretend sad face. SkinnyWheels is Pia’s food-truck business.
“Apparently my salads don’t cut the Zeitgeist gourmet hand-cut mustard,” Pia says sarcastically, but I can tell she’s genuinely kind of pissed about it. “So let’s go eat quail’s egg quiche and banana-cheddar spring rolls and fig-studded mozzarella balls and crazy shit like that.”
“And meet some dudes!” Julia cheers. “It’s Meet a Dude Day! Angie, are you in? High-five me! Fivies! Come on!”
I’m not the high-fiving type, but Julia grabs my hand and forces me to high-five her.
“There. Doesn’t that feel good? Next we’ll work on hugs.”
At that, I laugh out loud, and suddenly feel happy endorphins flooding my body. Laughing! Who knew it felt so good? Fuck it, why not go with the girls and help them meet dudes? It’ll take my mind off … everything.
Smorgasburg is a weekly open-air festival of unique foods that grew out of the Brooklyn Flea. By midday, in the interest of getting as many tastes as possible, we’ve shared fried anchovies, spicy beef noodles, chicken and waffles, chili mozzarella balls, a caramelized-onion-smothered hot dog, a buttery porchetta sandwich, a lobster roll, teriyaki shrimp balls, and a basil-and-raspberry popsicle. Yeah. There’s some funky food here, all right.
Julia and I are by far the most enthusiastic eaters. Madeleine is picky and sniffs everything distrustfully before taking a tiny bite, and Coco is staring at the food longingly and talking about it a lot, but hardly touching it. (Between you and me, I think she might have a guilty-secret-eater thing going on,
Who knew sharing felt so good? I mean, I hated all those late-night compulsory deep and meaningful heart-to-hearts at school, remember them? When all the girls eat junk food and one girl talks about her parents and another talks about her abusive ex-boyfriend and another talks about her body issues and another talks about whatthefuckever and at the end everyone has a Care Bears hug and then the bulimic sneaks off to puke. I wasn’t really invited to those talks, mind you. But I was in the dorm when they happened.
Anyway. During my confession, Coco got tears in her eyes, Madeleine frowned, Pia gasped, and Julia clenched her fists and muttered “ Those fuckers ” a lot.
It should have been the easiest to confide in Pia. I’ve known her, literally, since I was born. But somehow, I felt most scared about her reaction. Maybe because she was always having her own crises, maybe because my parents aren’t exactly the pull-up-a-pew types, but I’ve never really burdened her with my problems before. I always kept everything to myself. Sharing things felt, I don’t know, like complaining, like asking for help, like saying I couldn’t handle life, like I was weak. Keeping my secrets to myself felt like the only thing I could do … well, keeping my secrets, drinking, and falling for the wrong men.
Letting my friendship with Pia drift is just as much my fault as hers, I’m finally realizing. Maybe more my fault. How can she be around for me if I never tell her I need her?
“So that’s that,” I say finally. “From today, I’m just going to stay single and concentrate on my career. Get a damn job.”
“No you’re not,” says Julia. “It’s Saturday. You can get a damn job on Monday. Today you’re making up for the whole curtain thing by coming with us to Smorgasburg.”
“You’re all going?” I don’t want to be alone, not when I’ve got so much to think about. And to try not to think about. “Pia? Even you?”
“Yep. Aidan’s in San Francisco till tonight, he had some work thing,” says Pia. “It’s a special presummer preview event. I’m going as a corporate spy.”
“She means she’s checking out the competition,” Julia explains to a confused Coco. “We’re going for the dudes.”
“Smorgasburg doesn’t worship at the altar of SkinnyWheels?” says Madeleine, making a pretend sad face. SkinnyWheels is Pia’s food-truck business.
“Apparently my salads don’t cut the Zeitgeist gourmet hand-cut mustard,” Pia says sarcastically, but I can tell she’s genuinely kind of pissed about it. “So let’s go eat quail’s egg quiche and banana-cheddar spring rolls and fig-studded mozzarella balls and crazy shit like that.”
“And meet some dudes!” Julia cheers. “It’s Meet a Dude Day! Angie, are you in? High-five me! Fivies! Come on!”
I’m not the high-fiving type, but Julia grabs my hand and forces me to high-five her.
“There. Doesn’t that feel good? Next we’ll work on hugs.”
At that, I laugh out loud, and suddenly feel happy endorphins flooding my body. Laughing! Who knew it felt so good? Fuck it, why not go with the girls and help them meet dudes? It’ll take my mind off … everything.
Smorgasburg is a weekly open-air festival of unique foods that grew out of the Brooklyn Flea. By midday, in the interest of getting as many tastes as possible, we’ve shared fried anchovies, spicy beef noodles, chicken and waffles, chili mozzarella balls, a caramelized-onion-smothered hot dog, a buttery porchetta sandwich, a lobster roll, teriyaki shrimp balls, and a basil-and-raspberry popsicle. Yeah. There’s some funky food here, all right.
Julia and I are by far the most enthusiastic eaters. Madeleine is picky and sniffs everything distrustfully before taking a tiny bite, and Coco is staring at the food longingly and talking about it a lot, but hardly touching it. (Between you and me, I think she might have a guilty-secret-eater thing going on,
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