lunch to catch up over
of my two roommates, one is an enigma. while d works long days, my nights, due to work or social obligations, are rarely spent at home. it had been weeks since we’d had an opportunity for a sit-down-tell-me-everything. except this sunday, we found ourselves sharing the living room, an event in and of itself.it is unusual that i go to a restaurant without first doing serious research. i’ll have read reviews, or been advised by a trusted foodie friend. today, however (and i don’t say this often), food was secondary. we were hungry, yes, but there were several weeks of our lives that we hadn’t yet run by each other, and this was priority.
we picked the first sushi place we found on first ave and plopped in front of open windows to savor the last summer breezes. the place was quirky-cute, with a blowing-in-the breeze rainbow of paper animal cutouts hanging on thread from the ceiling or in picture frames on the wall. our placemats were covered with crisp pictures of various sushi rolls and their official names, so we could know the title of each sea creature we consumed.there was something so adult about the two of us sitting there. we weren’t just discussing boyfriends – we were discussing marriage (“i’ll never get married!” she declares, after recently attending her sister’s wedding). we weren’t just talking about jobs – now it was careers. we ate our fish; lovely pink shrimp, tuna that may not really have been, rolls filled with mango. nothing had a flavor strong enough to call my attention to it, but it could have been the fault of the distracting conversation.
when i go long periods without a good talk with d, i somehow forget how rational and insightful she is. but she is. i feel better knowing she’s stressed over the same things i’m stressed over, and am able to think about things in new ways when she asks me new questions. we split the shashimi without asking, we finished last bites without insisting the other take it. we’ve shared so much sushi over the past few years that we’ve worked out an unconscious ritual.plates are cleared, receipts are signed, bathroom visits are made and we head back out into the world. as the rice expands in my stomach, i feel well-fed and well-loved.