“It should be,” she stated. “You don’t need my baggage.”
“Well, by the same token, you certainly don’t need mine,” he added, “so we work hard to not dump on each other, and we understand that there’s a difference between venting and dumping.”
And she laughed. “Only you would say that.”
“Nope,” he disagreed, “lots of people say that. You still have to be you, and everybody has good days and bad days.”
“Right.” She stifled a yawn.
He frowned. “You are tired, but did you eat anything?”
She shook her head. “No, I was hoping you had food.”
“Meaning, you don’t.”
She laughed. “No, I really don’t.”
He nodded. “Well, if nothing else we can order in.”
“Ordering in and sitting outside on the balcony sounds perfect,” she said.
He pulled out his phone. “What do you feel like eating?”
She stared, fascinated, as he brought up a list of nearby places for quick delivery. “Do you even cook?”
“I do,” he replied, “but that means I also must shop.”
She winced. “See? I know. And that’s why I don’t ever have any food at home.” She turned as the elevator door opened to let them into his place. “That also means you’ve been so busy you haven’t had time either.”
“Exactly,” he agreed. “So rather than fussing about it and making plans to do better tomorrow, why don’t we just choose something that we can eat today.”
She hesitated, and he shook his head. “Now is not the time to say we should be eating healthy.”
“We can make healthier food choices here too.”
“Yeah, but, when you feel like shit, and you’re tired and worn out, you know all you want is heavy carbs.”
“Like pizza or pasta?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow.
He laughed. “If Mama had any idea that you hadn’t eaten…” He shook his head, and, instead of ordering a delivery online, he made a phone call, ordering in Italian. He smiled into the phone. “I know. Neither of us have eaten all day,” he admitted. “We’re exhausted and worn out, so we knew you would have a good solution.”
Mama’s scolding voice came through the phone, but it was in such heavy Italian, he could barely tell what she was saying. But he got the gist of it.
“If you want to package something up for two,” he suggested, “I’ll send somebody over to pick it up.”
“Two or four?” she asked.
“Well, if you send enough for four, we’ll have leftovers.”
Mama gave a heavy gusty sigh. “You can’t keep on like this. It’s not healthy.”
“That’s why we rely on people like you,” he said gently, “to try and keep us on track. Some weeks are better than others, and some days are better than others. We’re just doing the best we can.”
“Okay,” she replied, “my son, he will deliver.”
“No, that’s not a good idea,” Simon argued.
“It’s a new service. Please, let us help you.”