2: 2
The next afternoon, Margery came home.
She let out an exaggerated sigh. "God, I'm exhausted. That meeting gave me a splitting headache."
Then she pulled out a bag.
"I know you were bummed you couldn't go, so when a coworker of mine managed to grab some merch, I bought a piece off him right away. Do you like it?"
I glanced inside. A concert T-shirt. Size XS.
I wear XL.
"Sure," I said, and nodded.
Seeing how flat my reaction was, Margery frowned.
"Still sulking? There was nothing I could do about the tickets."
"When you make it big someday, you can hire that singer to come sing just for the two of us. How's that?"
Just then the door opened and Emmet stuck his grinning head in.
He'd always known our door code.
Decked out in some trendy brand, he made straight for the couch and dropped down right next to me.
"Rod, buddy, thought I'd come check on you."
He fished a tub of pink-and-green ice cream out of a dessert bag.
"Brought you that ice cream everyone's raving about online. Go on, try a bite!"
Guava flavor.
Margery loved guava. I hated it most of all, that weird astringent bite to it.
Emmet had been our friend for seven years. There was no way he didn't know that.
I shook my head. "I don't want any. You have it."
Margery laughed. "You don't get it, Rod's such a hick. He won't touch any of these trendy things."
"Give it here, I'll eat it. I'll pick him up some popsicles on my way back. Those are the only thing he likes."
Fifty-cent popsicles.
Back in college, Margery once offered to buy me ice cream.
I felt bad about how hard she worked at her part-time job, so I told her I liked those cheap popsicles.
And just like that, I became the man who only deserved cheap popsicles.
Margery happily took the ice cream and started eating.
Halfway through, she scrunched up her face.
"Emmet, I can't finish this. Why'd you buy such a huge cup?"
Emmet laughed. "Because I already knew you'd want some, you little piglet."
He gave Margery's soft, boneless arm a squeeze.
"You should eat more, put some weight on. Otherwise people'll think marrying Rod's got you all miserable and starved."
Margery wrinkled her nose, pouting. "Oh please, Rod works really hard. Not everyone can measure up to you."
Then she waved the leftover ice cream at him. "So what do we do with the rest?"
Emmet took it from her, scooped up a big spoonful and shoved it in his mouth. "What else? Hand it to me, the human trash can."
I looked at Margery.
She'd told me before that she was a germaphobe.
She'd throw away her leftovers before she'd ever let me eat them.
Turns out she just didn't want it coming from me.
"Margie, there's a huge piece of coconut jelly right here, eat it."
Emmet dug out the jelly with the same spoon he'd been using and, easy as anything, held it up to Margery's mouth.
And Margery, without a second thought, closed her lips around the spoon.
I thought of the time I'd bought fried chicken and, wanting to be close to her, tried to share a single piece with Margery.
But in front of all our friends she'd turned her face away in disgust, said she didn't like it, told me to just throw out whatever I couldn't finish.
I couldn't hold it in any longer. I asked, "The two of you are sharing one ice cream?"
