Simmer Down

Actually, I think she might have something romantic going on herself.”
    “Really? What makes you say that?” He began to assemble ingredients for the focaccia.
    “She’s been sort of giggly and even more high-energy than usual. She hasn’t said anything, but I just have a feeling... maybe it’s that lady who runs that AFL-CIO thing down the hall from us. She’s always coming in to see if Naomi wants a chai tea from the cafe.”
    “Naomi’s gay?” Josh asked.
    “Well, I sort of assumed so,” I said. “You know, she’s always talking about women’s rights and drinking weird beverages and ‘forgetting’ to put on a bra.”
    Josh laughed. “And that makes her a lesbian?”
    “No. I mean, sometimes I drink chai iced teas or those funny smoothies with ginkgo and protein powder.”
    “Yeah, and I know you’re not a lesbian,” Josh winked at me. “And you better not let your classmates hear you talking like that. Aren’t you stereotyping or oppressing or labeling or something?”
    “True. Guilty, guilty, guilty. Okay, it’s not those things, but I’ve never heard her talk about any men, and she’s always referring to partners and mates and things. Anyway, the point is, I’m getting love vibes from her, and I think she’s got some sort of romance going on.”
    Josh came over to me and grinned. “Well, I’m ready for a break, and I’ve got some love vibes going on, too.” He leaned over and nestled his head in my neck, kissing me lightly.
    “In that case, I think I’m ready for a break, too.” I smiled and led Josh to the bedroom.

TWO

    LOVE and food. I’d led Josh to bed, but what hauled him out was the focaccia dough, which really needed to be started. He stayed up late that night baking the bread and obsessing about Food for Thought. When I got up at ten on the morning of the twenty-eighth, he was dead asleep, so I tiptoed out of the bedroom and put on a pot of coffee. Fed up with my inability to brew a drinkable cup, Josh had bought me an ultrafancy coffee and espresso machine soon after we’d met. So far, I’d somehow managed not to break it, but success in steaming milk was still beyond me.
    The kitchen was a disaster, so I took my coffee to the living room and sat on the couch to go over the material that Naomi and I were going to hand out. I’d finished preparing it only the day before and was convinced that I’d misspelled something or typed an incorrect phone number. Reading and rereading, I came across no catastrophic errors. Naomi had called me last night to say that she was very pleased with my work, was going to have everything photocopied this morning, and would meet me at the gallery around five thirty tonight.
    Waiting for Josh to awaken, I took a gulp of coffee and surveyed the living room, which was almost as messy as the kitchen. Holiday cards, wrapping paper, and unwrapped presents were everywhere. I couldn’t stand the thought of tidying up anything Christmassy until January first, at which time everything associated with Christmas would be banished. Especially the tree. Back when I’d been dating my ex-boyfriend, Sean, I’d made the mistake of becoming so attached to my Christmas tree that throughout January and February and into March, it had still been in my living room, the lights and ornaments pitifully dripping from its dry branches. At that point it was simply too embarrassing to be caught hauling the tree down five flights of stairs. In a two a.m. drunken fit, I’d persuaded Sean that in a stealthy manner suitable for Navy SEALS, we’d lug the beast out of the building. Although the building had an elevator, it seemed quicker just to let the tree surf its way down the stairs. Sean, who’d had about twenty-two beers, had been completely game, so we’d grabbed the tree and pushed it down the steps and into the back alley, where Sean had lifted the dried-up Christmas tree and hurled it into the Dumpster. We’d then immediately raced upstairs and swept every single needle from my hallway and the stairs to give the impression that the tree in the Dumpster could have come from anywhere and that I’d certainly had nothing to do with anything so dumb as keeping a tree up until March. This year’s tree would be gone on the first of the year.
    But for now, I didn’t mind the Christmas mess and was comfortably seated next to an indoor herb garden that I’d bought for Josh and then decided against giving him because it struck me as a ridiculous present