Spooning (15 page)

“Now look, Dick, here comes Woody! Oh, he looks even larger this year! See how he is pointed straight up? For an old man, he sure is flying high.” Macie clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Oh no, the Pink Panther is looking a little limp this year. Gosh, all he needs is just a good blow. I'm sure we can find a volunteer to fill the job,” Tara giggled with a huff and a puff. I sat on the living room floor sipping my coffee and went back to stewing over the whole boyfriend issue. Sooner or later, I figured that either the vanilla coffee or fumes from the beer bread would lift my spirits.

“What's that smell?” Macie whined. I stuck my nose in the air thinking that disaster was imminent. “No, it's not from the kitchen,” Macie deduced. “God, Charlie, can you not bring that nasty coffee into the house?”

Within three months I had learned that the most fragile relationship anyone will ever be in is that of the female roommate situation. Unlike when we were in college, we now had real-life stresses: credit card late charges, tub drain blockage, dead houseplants, bland Thai takeout, coworker gossip, and lousy kisses, all of which only added to the precarious, bitchy communication naturally found between girls. I tried to smile
as Macie made retching noises. She hated the scent of vanilla coffee. She said that the scent reminded her of her unsupportive soccer coach in fourth grade. Apparently the woman would sip vanilla coffee as she told Macie to “work off some of that extra weight” with some extra laps. Being a conscientious roommate and not wanting to give Macie the shakes, I usually tried not to expose her to vanilla coffee. But today was not a good NY day and I needed it bad.

“So where is J. P.?” Macie asked looking up from the television set. Why she hadn't thought to go down to the corner and watch the real shebang on Central Park West was beyond me.

“At home in Connecticut.”

“Oh. And what's the latest?” I hated how my romance, or lack thereof, was like the headlines of the nightly news. Everyone wanted updates every twenty minutes.

“Ugh. I don't know. Remember how we left Top Shelf together last weekend?” Macie nodded. “Well, we came back here and I innocently suggested that we go into my room, where, you know, there is no distracting television set and no ESPN …” I paused. Macie smiled as Tara walked into the room. She wanted to hear the story too.

“So, have any of you ever heard about Lova-Rubba- Cumma, that lubricating massage oil?” I asked.

“Hell yes! They advertise on late-night infomercials,” Tara exclaimed. “Charlie, you have some?” she asked raising her hand to her mouth feigning shock.

“Yeah. I had a wild moment and actually bought some in one of those West Village sex shops.”

“They're
erotica
shops,” Tara corrected. “Can I borrow it sometime?” I winced at the idea of sharing a used bottle of love oil.

“Well, I strongly advise against using it,” I told them. “This is my gift to you from my inner circle of knowledge. I can attest that it can cause an allergic reaction, especially in that nether region, if you know what I mean.”

“Why, what happened?” asked Syd as she came into the room, licking the bread batter from her fingers.

I sighed. “So I decided to be bold and I slathered this love juice all over my hands. By the way, it doesn't smell pretty— kind of like car oil overlaid with vanilla; it reminds me of the minty cod liver oil my mom used to make me take. Anyway, I reached down and began to stroke.”

“Details, Charlie, details! I mean good God, you're using lubricating oil. I want Danielle Steel details!” Tara reprimanded.

“Okay! First he began to smile, his eyes were half closed, and then he moaned like a cat in heat. Lova-Rubba-Cumma is supposed to ‘heat up slightly with a light loving touch.’ So, like any pleasing woman, I thought I was headed in the right direction. Well, he then drew in a sharp breath and then another, and he moaned again. But this time the moaning began to sound more ragged and he began to hyperventilate! Now, I can be a maven in the bedroom, but this was a new reaction even for me. His eyes flew open and then, he screamed. Not a wow scream but an owwww type of scream. He leapt up from the bed pointing frantically at his genital region!” Tara bit back a laugh.

“No really, I was scared!” I protested. “There he was leaping and spinning like the best of them at the New York City Ballet. So at this point, I didn't know whether to throw the cup of water from my bedside table on him or grab his penis and try to rub the oil off of it. I finally just directed him to the shower
and after that I couldn't tell whether the next scream was from relief or from the shock of our often too-cold water.”

“Thinking back on it, I heard that yell.” Macie said. “I just chalked it up to your—what did you call them—maven ways.” I glared at her before continuing.

“It was terrible! Within two seconds, he had leapt out of the shower, wrapped himself in my towel, and fled the apartment. Yes,” I confirmed before Syd could interrupt, “towel- clad, down the stairs and out the front door. And I haven't heard from him since.”

“Devastating,” Macie deadpanned.

“Horrific,” Tara shuddered.

“Wasn't he cold?” Syd asked. “You know, shrinkage?” We stared at her.

“No, well, okay … Mortifying,” she concluded with sincerity. Atta girl, Syd!

“
Y
'all?” began Wade. “Even though we are missing Sage, not that she'd eat anyway, I say that this here dinner is our official November Cooking Club meeting. I mean when have we ever even come close to such a cooking feat?” We were huddled around our cafe table surveying the remnants of Tara's cranberry sauce, Syd's beer bread, and Macie's slightly pink turkey. It had been a simple meal, but the pilgrims had prided themselves on Yankee minimalism. And as if it couldn't get any better, Wade brought out her dessert with a whopping grin on her face. The “Better than Ben Affleck Dessert” as she called it. Now, mankind has exalted the wonders of chocolate for centuries. Chocolate was rumored to be an aphrodisiac but either way I found it mood-altering. It wasn't that I wanted sex, at
least not any more than I did before the pie, but at the very sight of all those chocolate shavings I slowly began to have a good NY day!

We fought spoon to spoon to dig into this delight. Each layer proved to be more rich than the last. I savored each bite—from the chocolate, to the pudding, to the surprising creamy layer, to the nutty bottom. The whole dessert made my life flash before my eyes—from childhood, when I would sing along with Mr. Cosby as I ate Jell-O pudding; to college, when my dirty talking hook-up brought whipped cream to bed one night (only to get too high on whip-its to notice my nakedness); to my present-day nuttiness over Mr. J. P. Morgan (my Abnormal Psych professor in college used to claim that craziness is correlated to genius).

Tara, on the other hand, seemed to be shoveling rather than savoring, quickly making her way to the bottom of the dish. Maybe this was my problem. Maybe I was treading too lightly in my relationship with J. P. Maybe I needed to forgo the baby steps and the little nibbles of romance. Maybe I needed to dig in and dive deep.

“My mother used to call this recipe her ‘Better than Tom Selleck Dessert,’ Wade giggled with chocolate uncharacteristically adorning her nose.

“God,” moaned Tara. “He is the only man on the planet who actually looks yummy with a mustache.”

“She would whip this up for her lady friends and they'd all sit around and discuss their erotic memories of high school boyfriends long gone. It was a welcomed break from husbands and kids.”

“A precursor to our Cooking Club in a way,” theorized Macie.

“Yep! They even joked that this dish should be called the Better than Sex dessert—”

“Wild and crazy women,” quipped Tara.

“I figured that we needed to update the recipe with the times—no more Tom Selleck. Tom Cruise is too eighties and Brad Pitt is too blond for this chocolate masterpiece, so I decided on Ben,” Wade explained.

I'd just finished spooning the last of the pan's contents into my mouth when Macie sang, “Last bite is the Old Maid's!” I coughed on the spoonful. Not that I was superstitious, but did I really need any more obstacles in my quest for true love?

“Hey, let's all say something we're thankful for,” suggested Syd.

“Besides this?” Tara mumbled, wiping chocolate from her mouth. “If J. Lo had tasted this, she would have gotten rid of Ben a lot sooner!” With a deft flick of her tongue she did not miss a drop. The things that girl can do with her tongue!

“Each person has to list at least ten things,” commanded Syd.

“Ohh, goody! Let's write them down,” offered the ever-so- practical Macie. Syd passed out the paper while I distributed the pens, and off we all went, listing our thankful things.

Charlie:

• • Cheap mani-pedis
  

• • Unused Metro cards
  

• • Page Six
  

• • Good friends (albeit fledgling cooks)
  

• • Caller ID
  

• • J. Lo
  

• • Neurotic yet loving family
  

• • My butter yellow rug
  

• • Mac and cheese
  

• • Mr. J. P. Morgan (we'll see how long he stays on the list)
  

• • Vanilla coffee
  

Macie:

• • Bloomingdale's
  

• • Tennis whites
  

• • Fast elevators
  

• • Flowers reappearing on semi-dead plants
  

• • Sample sales
  

• • Any Chanel makeup
  

• • My mother
  

• • My roommates
  

• • J. Lo
  

• • Our humble apartment
  

Wade:

• • Rhyming poems (or nursery rhymes)
  

• • Smelly markers
  

• • Pearls being still in fashion
  

• • Sunday afternoons in Barnes & Noble
  

• • Dear friends
  

• • Scented soaps (esp. those from hotels)
  

• • My cashmere sweaters
  

• • My sister
  

• • J. Lo
  

• • Free movies in Bryant Park
  

• • Popsicles
  

Sydney:

• • Newfound cooking skills
  

• • Wine of any flavor
  

• • Spell check
  

• • Double features (for the price of one)
  

• • My friends in NYC
  

• • Reruns
  

• • Starbucks
  

• • Hospital scrubs to sleep in
  

• • J. Lo
  

• • Central Park (my reprieve!)
  

Tara:

• • Boys
  

• • J. Lo
  

• • Boys (yes, I can put it twice)
  

• • The female orgasm
  

• • Roses from the man on the street
  

• • New
  People
  magazines
  

• • My family
  

• • My ability to remember any cute boy's number
  

• • My cell phone
  

• • Yoga (the really hot kind)
  

• • Ladies' night discounts
  

• • My birth!! (You should all add it to your lists!)
  

It was touching to see what my best friends had put down and some of the items were very telling. For instance, I knew that Tara loved yoga not for the inner peace aspect, but for the way it limbered her up for certain nocturnal activities. Sydney's hospital scrubs were remnants of her high-school boyfriend, her first real relationship. She still refuses to go into detail about “him” other than that he was older, and a med student, but she still wore those scrubs as pajamas and a
reminder of happy times. As for Wade, we'd all long been convinced that her love of Popsicles was purely phallic. She always goes for the really big round ones in the park, the ones that require your mouth to form the perfect “O” shape. She has a knack for sucking without one dribble. Demure southern belle, my ass!

To critique myself, I'd used up one of my ten valued spots on Mr. J. P. Morgan. Part of me felt like it was too early to be putting his existence on paper. I didn't even know if I could qualify him as my boyfriend yet (see inner-struggle from this morning), but he'd added a new dimension to my life here in New York, for better or for worse. Being superstitious, I was probably jinxing myself. However, I felt I couldn't help but acknowledge that man who had brought Gerber daisies, bedtime romps, and drama into my life. Who wants a flatline existence? I crave those peaks and valleys. Bring on the drama, I say!

Upon later inspection and after five glasses of cheap merlot, we noticed that Tara had added to our lists:

Charlie:

• • Cheap mani-pedis
  

• • Unused Metro cards
  

• • Page Six
  

• • Good friends (albeit fledgling cooks)
  

• • Caller ID
  

• • J. Lo
  

• • Neurotic yet loving family
  

• • My butter yellow rug
  

• • Mac and cheese
  

• • Mr. J. P. Morgan (we'll see how long he stays on the list)
  

• • Vanilla coffee
  

• • THE GODDESS TARA'S BIRTH!