I have quit my habit of talking to “Tim” for almost a week now, and I’m not going crazy. Some guy from the leasing office was talking about a one-bedroom that he wanted to rent, and I offered up mine. I said that I’d painted almost every wall, and that it was move-in ready. I invited him up to take a look and he came up, and he sat on the skeleton of my futon frame, asking why I hadn’t unpacked any of my boxes yet. I told him about my master plan- about how I wanted to move to Towson, to the big roomy apartments with the white walls, white cabinets, and granite kitchen counter tops. He seemed unfazed. He launched into this big diatribe about macrobiotic diets and I immediately thought to Demi Moore: raw, frozen carrots, and our unpicked vegetable garden at school.
Anyhow, this “guy” Brian and I abandoned all thought of carrots or anything else, and we walked up to the Food Lion, or my mistake, the Shoppers, and he showed me around the backside of the parking lot. We bumped into a few people coming out of the back way of the Shoppers who probably mistook us for a couple. Brian insisted that we try out the deli because it had sushi, and so I obliged and picked out from a bamboo menu the Volcano Roll, while he scanned the list and came out with something raw. Can’t remember what he picked, but I do know that he ordered extra ginger and forklifted a whole roll into his mouth.
He’s cute, Brian. He offered me up his fake red RayBans for which I mostly wore on top of my head as a hairband, to keep my curls out of the way so that I could see cars coming up and down of the road. I cut up my rolls with my chopsticks until they were squares of themselves, and then I dipped them into ginger and soy sauce, and talked about my day’s new credit card sum. I had just signed away my name to putting $2330.00 on it so that I could break my lease, but I wound up backing out of it, slowly, when I found out that I’d have free full pool access for the whole summer. Anyhow, Brian had heard my lie about how I wanted to get out of paying rent for the full year, and so he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see me again because of it. Which is understandable. This whole area is largely full of Orthodox Jews. There’s a shul right around the corner from me on Greenspring, where I see men walking to it when I leave for work every morning. So you can bet that there’s a conscience big enough to fill up the whole Greenspring Quarry itself, if it ever needed a tank. Do these men have jobs? Do they study the Talmud every day for “gosh” knows how many hours? Makes me want to go to the Mount Washington Tavern instead, or to Elizabeth’s house. At least there I could help garden, drink Gingertinis and practice yoga while discussing our infamous underwear collection from Nordstrom’s Rack (Elizabeth’s is way ahead of mine so far).