She sounded really regretful on the phone. The baby had fallen asleep in the car, and if she woke him now, he wouldn't go down again. Husband was late getting home with the car, so she was late leaving. "No, I totally get it." (I don't get it because I don't have toddlers whose sleep schedules would prevent me from going out for coffee.) (Coffee with a friend I haven't seen in 8 months.) (A friend who biked all the way to Niwot for coffee and for me.)
Sixteen months ago, the gentle boss came into my office and closed the door behind him. I always panic when they do that. But this time, he said, "we're going to fire her tomorrow." He probably said "let her go." That sounds more like him. I don't remember what I said, but I remember having a lot of thoughts all at the same time. But who's going to do all the calendaring? and But then I have this whole office to myself and nobody to keep me on task. and But I held the baby on my lap and played Poke The Nose while she finished the last of the pre-arbitration filings, even though I don't like babies, and we hi-fived on the way out because it turns out while one of us did the legal work, the other could entertain the toddler, and we'd still get 'er done. and, of course, So what am I supposed to tell her?
So I guess I do remember what I said. I said "when tomorrow?" And he said, "at 11:00 when ___ gets in." And I said I might not come in until the afternoon in that case. (I'm not proud of that, but I think that's what I said.)
The next morning, she texted me to say she was so sorry I was feeling sick. Ouch.
I saw her and the baby last summer. I brought her chocolate because even before she was pregnant, she had a massive sweet tooth and I had used to bring her caramel truffles from the bookstore when I went there for my lunch break. She was really late, and it was a little awkward, but she came. The baby poked my nose.
I had tipped the barista a good amount when I bought my coffee and said something about getting food "when my friend gets here." So there's that for awkwardness. Maybe they overheard my Dear John cell phone call and my saying "Dude, if the baby needs to sleep, that's cool. I promise not to think of this as a reflection on the level of our friendship." Probably not, though. I try not to talk on the phone in coffee shops, and if I have to, I keep it quiet. I didn't want to disturb the typers on laptops or that guy reading "Demons."
I texted Micah. "Would it be cheating to approach an attractive stranger because he's sitting in a coffee shop reading the one major Dostoyevsky I haven't read?" It was flippant. It made me feel better, mostly. My phone didn't announce a return text until I was 3/4 of the way back to Boulder. "Go home you harlot, you're married."
Three minutes later, "Wait, no, get his number for me. You can tell me what happened in Brothers Karamazof, right?"
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