The Aftertaste of Those Few Days
During the first week, the telecom company gave me a fairly manageable workload. For now, I’ve had ordinary, no-excuses workdays behind me — eight solid hours each day. I finished early Saturday afternoon. Completely bearable.
Last night, I invited Adele over. I’m still not in the mood to see Mark after his “hope he did a thorough job” comment. I doubt Sofia missed us. Though the topic might actually have done her some good too, considering how much Mark had complained about her.
“I want to know everything. Absolutely everything,” Adele announced the moment she stepped inside. “I’m just running to the bathroom — will you make some tea? Oh, and I picked up something at the pool, but it’s nothing serious. I’ll wipe the seat after me,” she rattled off, already halfway down the hall, before pulling the bathroom door shut behind her.
I stood there, frozen, kettle in hand.
No. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.
I set the kettle down and ran a hand through my hair. Ever since she’s been with Dave, she seems to “pick something up” wherever she goes. And the strangest part is that she doesn’t find that strange at all.
“Have you seen a doctor?” I asked carefully when she came out.
Meanwhile, I was already planning to go in after her and disinfect the faucet. The handle. The light switch. I’m terrified of Adele’s… issues. Last year she caught HPV. In a sauna. Of course.
“Not yet. I bought something for it. It’s nothing major. It’ll clear up in a week. Dave wasn’t thrilled there’d be no fun until then… I mean…”
“Well, Sofia’s not here now to learn from your ‘I mean.’”
We both laughed. I laughed a little too loudly.
These moments always make me nervous. I know I should say something, but what if I’m wrong and I’m accusing Dave unfairly? And Adele’s going through another intense period. When she’s like this, the smallest thing can set her off, and she’s furious in seconds. Right now it’s the teenage car thief case and her upcoming bar exam. Six months ago, her brother’s divorce nearly broke her. Before that, she had to switch law firms in the middle of her legal training…These periods come around about every six months. And they last for weeks.
While she fiddled with her teabag, I pulled out the sandwich maker and the ham, cheese, and thinly sliced leek I’d prepared for the filling.
“So,” she said, looking at me with a mischievous smile, “how did your little adventure with Thick Lips go?”
The moment she said “lips,” a shiver ran through me. Suddenly I could feel him on my skin again — the warm, damp touch. On my neck. His nose brushing just below my ear. I leaned against the counter to steady myself.
“Good God, Adele… he was incredible,” I sighed.
“In what way exactly? Technique? Equipment? Stamina?” she asked, sounding like she was taking minutes.
“All of it,” I said, laughing awkwardly. “Everything that can be good about making love.”
“Wasn’t it weird, though? You barely knew him. Weren’t you shy?”
I studied Adele’s face. It felt like she wasn’t really interested in my experience, but in the whole idea — that scandalous state when you give in to your instincts. Let go of the reins, throw yourself into it, and just see what happens. Wild. No brakes. For as long as it feels good.
“We went to the same university. He wasn’t a stranger,” I said instinctively, almost defensively.
“Oh, come on, Emily. You had no idea who he was.”
“Unfortunately,” I shot back. “If only I’d noticed him.”
“You had Mark back then.”
“Sure. But now that I know what I missed… I wish I’d looked around more.”
“So he could have been your Tuesday guy?” she asked with a soft chuckle, though only her mouth smiled.
Her eyes stayed still. I know she used to envy Mark like hell. The fact that when we needed each other, we were there. And when we didn’t, we could just close our doors without explanations.
Adele, on the other hand, either had a boyfriend or she didn’t. And when she didn’t — when she craved wild or gentle touch — she suffered like hell. Everything made her angry. She picked fights. Sometimes I don’t even know why I’m still her friend. She’s a good person. Just very hard to love. Luckily, I know her well enough now to steer the conversation elsewhere when needed.
“So tell me instead — how’s Dave’s mayoral campaign going? Are you on the team, or just helping from the sidelines?”
She absentmindedly turned her teacup on the saucer, then picked up the spoon and tapped it softly against the porcelain rim.
“I help him out. There’s a lot of work, obviously, but no one knows I’m involved. Mostly because of me. You know how many enemies he has. Or rather… people who envy him.”
I would have liked to hug her, but Adele doesn’t do well with that. She’s too tough and self-assured to need sympathy. Instead, I tapped my fingers lightly beside her hand.
“By the way,” she began, with unusual uncertainty, “he hired some girl. Sort of an assistant.”
She cleared her throat and busied herself with the sandwiches.
“Why?” I blurted.
She shrugged, pulled open the fridge door, and practically disappeared inside. She slid drawers in and out as if searching for something urgently. I let it go. She’d talk when she was ready.
“When did he hire her?” I still had to ask.
“Two weeks ago,” she said quickly. “Do you still have that garlic sauce?” she added.
That was her way of telling me the subject was closed.