The Couch That Stirred Everything
Adele’s reaction to the couch was exactly what I expected.
“Pale lilac? Have you lost your mind?” she stared at my new piece of furniture in disbelief. “What were you thinking when you picked this color? That you’re about to make so much money you can afford to replace it every month anyway?”
Her voice tightened with excitement. She was slightly out of breath, then continued in a high-pitched tone:
“And next to the brown velour armchair?”
She lifted her arm dramatically and dropped it onto her thigh. Then, like someone who had just received terrible news, she dragged herself over to the enormous L-shaped couch that practically took up half the room and collapsed onto it like a sack of potatoes.
“At least it’s insanely comfortable,” she groaned, closing her eyes.
“I’ll throw something over it so it doesn’t get ruined. Actually—hang on, I’ll grab a blanket.”
I went into the bedroom and pulled the bedspread off the bed.
“White?” Adele squinted at me sarcastically. “Brilliant idea.”
I rolled my eyes and carried the bedspread back to the bedroom. By the time I returned to the living room, Adele had stretched out along the long section of the couch, one arm tucked under her head.
“I’ll get you a proper cover for your birthday,” she muttered. “Two, actually, so your armchair can match.”
That’s what I love about Adele: practicality above all else. And quick solutions. Her brain works as if the fate of the entire world depends on her twenty-four hours a day. She’s always alert, always coming up with solutions nonstop.
Sofia, meanwhile, didn’t seem bothered at all. She sat down immediately, as if she hadn’t just walked in smelling like a stable. I instantly realized Adele was right. I should have thought of that. Especially since every morning I’ll be sitting there in nothing but my underwear—on the same couch where people sit after work and public transport.
Damn.
“Mark, where’s my phone?” Sofia asked, now sitting cross-legged.
“I don’t know. Find it—and slide over so I can try out this giant blueberry yogurt.”
“That’s it!” Adele shouted. “Blueberry yogurt! I’ve been trying to figure out what this color reminds me of.”
“Lav-en-der,” I said slowly, raising my voice and pronouncing each syllable. “It’s lavender. Blueberries are much darker.”
“Mark, give me your phone. I need to call someone at the clinic to bring me mine.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Mark said casually. “I promise I won’t text you tonight. Or call.”
“Wow. How generous,” Sofia said dryly.
She reached toward him, grabbing at the air with her fingers. Mark reluctantly handed over his phone. Sofia took it and stepped out onto the balcony.
“Why are you being such an ass to her?” Adele asked. “You should be happy she’s put up with you for almost a year.”
Mark had just opened his mouth when the heavy balcony door slid open again, letting in a blast of sharp cold air.
“She’s coming.”
“Who?” the three of us asked at once.
“My assistant.”
“Look at you,” Adele groaned. “I’d love to have someone working under me already.”
“You won’t have to wait much longer,” Mark said. “Assuming you don’t fail the bar,” he added with a nasty grin.
“Go to hell,” Adele hissed. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?”
He didn’t answer. His face hardened, his mouth twisting into a tight grimace. We let it go. But when Sofia went downstairs to get her phone, we pounced.
“Did you two have a fight or something?” Adele sat upright suddenly.
Mark grabbed his hair with both hands.
“Please talk to her,” he said. “Take her out for some girls’ night or something and explain things to her.”
“Explain what?” I asked.
Mark tilted his head back in frustration.
“That sex isn’t just lying there like a plank of wood, completely motionless.”
My mouth fell open.
“Mark, for fuck’s sake. Why don’t you talk to her about that?”
“Because you can’t talk to her about things like that. She immediately throws a fit and tells me to go do it with you if I’m not happy with what she can offer. As if she offers anything.”
Adele rolled her eyes.
“And what exactly do you expect us to do? How are we supposed to casually bring that up when she’s jealous of Emily and only barely tolerates us for your sake?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “But this situation seriously isn’t working.”
I felt my temper spike. Without meaning to, I put my hands on my hips and stood in front of him.
“Then why don’t you just break up with her and find someone else?”
“She cooks amazingly. And she even irons my underwear…”
“Mark, you cannot possibly be that big of an asshole—” I started, but the door opening cut me off.
I moved over to the kitchen counter, and Sofia sat back down where she’d been before. No one felt like talking. Mark stared at his bouncing foot, Adele closed her eyes and pretended to nap, and I pulled out a retractable measuring tape and started measuring the space in front of the kitchen counter.
“What are you doing?” Sofia asked.
“Trying to figure out where the bar counter could go.”
Both of my other friends turned around.
“A bar counter?” Adele sang.
Well, I hadn’t planned to tell them about that just yet, but something had to break the tension. I just hope they won’t miss it for a while, because until the project is over, nobody’s coming here to drill or install anything anyway.
I do feel sorry for Sofia. She’s a good person, and she really doesn’t deserve this. But if she refuses to talk about certain things, that’s going to make things difficult.
I would have been curious to hear Adele’s opinion, though. She can be pretty blunt when it comes to her own boyfriend. Honestly, I still can’t quite tell whether her relationship with Dave is romantic… or more like a professional arrangement.
It would be nice to have someone in my life too. Not permanently—I definitely don’t have the patience for that right now.
More like a casual thing.
That would solve a few problems.
It would take the edge off the stress that’s been building up inside me… and probably do wonders for my self-esteem too.