Thank You for Sharing, page 11
• Alex joined us for an illicit round on his break
• Would like to say that he and Marc with a c • are exclusive. Everyone cheered
• Liyah only made fun of Daniel once tonight. It was for being late due to “JST,” when very clearly it was due to L train delay
• When asked if she would like an award, she said yes
• No rule additions
CHAPTER 10
LIYAH reclines in the guest armchair of Maria’s office, waiting for her therapist to return with tea. The décor has changed since she was last here. It was Maria’s first week in the new building, and the walls felt hauntingly empty. Nothing to stare at when she needed to avoid eye contact.
Maria quietly enters the room and deposits a steaming mug on the table next to Liyah before taking her seat beneath a wire sculpture. Its radial lines hover above her side-parted Afro like sunrays. “It’s good to see you, Liyah. You look well.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” Gesturing to the various paintings, she adds, “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thank you. It’s mostly the same as before I moved, but a new space changes everything, doesn’t it?” Liyah nods. “So, how have you been these past few months?”
“Pretty good. I was unhappy at work, which I guess you know because that’s like sixty percent of what I talked about last time. But I pitched an exhibit that weaves together biological and cultural anthropology, and it was green-lit, so I’ve been working on that.”
“Congratulations. That sounds like a lot of responsibility. Which is what you wanted, right?”
Liyah blows on the tea before taking a sip. “Yeah, it is. It’s a lot of work, though. Half of my social life is spent working with Daniel on the marketing project I got saddled with. And that’s still technically work.”
Maria nods. “I’m not sure you’ve mentioned Daniel to me before.”
“Oh, right. I hadn’t run into him yet, I guess.” During the first few months of seeing her, Liyah met with Maria twice a week. When she was no longer in crisis, they dropped down to weekly, then biweekly. Now, even though it’s been two years since they switched to checking in every three months, Liyah still forgets that the relative infrequency means Maria is often missing the kind of context she used to always have. “I knew him as a kid, but that’s a long story.” One she’s told Maria, but only in the broadest of strokes—she felt betrayed by a camp friend, didn’t go back the next summer, one drop in an ocean of reasons to mistrust those who romantically pursue her. “He’s one of the members of this thing I do on Fridays—the Speakeasy Survival Club. It’s basically just drinking buddies, but we also complain about work and adulthood and take meeting minutes for fun. There’s four of us—Siobhan, and Daniel’s coworker Jordan. That’s the other half of my social life. It’s kind of dumb, I know…”
The large hoop earrings Maria wears sway as she shakes her head. “That doesn’t sound dumb. It sounds like a good support network.”
“We joke that it’s group therapy but with liquor.”
Maria smiles, nodding. “That seems nice. And how have you been otherwise? Did you end up resolving that issue with Ivy?”
Liyah swallows, embarrassed. She knows Maria isn’t here to judge her, but she’s also seen this scenario play out a good number of times, and it never sounds great when she says it out loud. “I haven’t spoken to her since I sent that last text message. I haven’t been sleeping with anybody else, though. Between work and SSC, I haven’t had any time.”
“That’s the only reason? A busy schedule hasn’t ever stopped you before.”
She takes another sip of her tea. “Yeah, that’s it. I mean, I only ever see Siobhan and Jordan and Daniel, and I don’t sleep with my friends, so.”
Maria holds her gaze. “Right. We can move on, I’m just checking in since there seems to have been a change in your behavior. If everything is alright and you don’t want to talk about it, I get that, but this is why we’re here. Are you sure there’s nothing that’s been coming up for you?”
“Nope, all good,” Liyah replies, hoping the levity in her tone will ward off Maria’s suspicious eye.
The rest of the session passes without event, and Liyah returns to her office feeling triumphant, another quarterly appointment where she’s generally been doing well on the books. Her elation only extends so far, the colony of messages in her in-box having doubled in size since this morning. She clicks, skims, and deletes what she can, until a particular message catches her eye: Delivery Confirmation.
Liyah opens it and only makes it a few lines before she jumps up, leaving her desk chair spinning as she races down to the mail room. Two boxes are waiting for her: one small, presumably the samples from the wine bar they’ve partnered with, and one large enough she’ll need a dolly, presumably the signs explaining the exhibition pairings. She rips the bigger one open, and the top sign is the one for Inside Ancient Egypt. Peter suggested they pair it with a French Chablis that has “a strong character of salinity.” Daniel and Liyah had nodded along, making eye contact as soon as he looked away and biting the insides of their cheeks to avoid laughing.
She takes a picture of herself with the sign, loads up a dolly (not even minding the squeaky back wheel), and pushes her way to the freight elevator. It’s ancient and exceedingly slow, so she spends the ride typing out an email with the photo attached.
To: Daniel Rosenberg
From: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
Look what arrived! So excited to experience the saline. #salty
Liyah
P.S. I can’t remember, is it supposed to be on the tip of the tongue or the inner sides? Or is that acidity …
To: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
From: Daniel Rosenberg
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
Is the hashtag about you or the wine?
Daniel
P.S. Tip of the tongue is sweetness, inner sides is acidity, outer edge is salinity. Did you not pay any attention in the meeting? Peter would be ashamed.
To: Daniel Rosenberg
From: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
Liyah
P.S. Guess I’ll have to return my sommelier license.
Liyah pushes open the door to her office with her elbow, dragging in the dolly and nearly dropping her phone before Siobhan jumps to her rescue. “Thank you, sorry,” she says.
“It would help if you weren’t trying to do three things at once. What’s got you smiling at your phone? Have the pinky toes come in?” Siobhan asks.
“What? Oh, no. Stuff for the wine-tasting night. I was emailing Daniel about it.”
“So, are you ready to tell me what happened on Yom Kippur?”
Liyah’s face heats. How would she even begin to explain why such a simple question set off a nuclear warhead in her chest? But Siobhan can’t know about the greeter, can she? There’s no reason for Daniel to have mentioned it. “What do you mean?” she asks. “You want me to run through the order of the service?”
“I want you to explain how you went from finding Daniel—what was it you said, ‘tolerable’?—to smiling at his work emails. Don’t try to deny it, there’s been two Survival Club meetings since then, I’ve seen you two.”
Liyah shakes her head. “He’s funny, sometimes. And I still make fun of him plenty.”
“Yeah, but you’re never outright mean.”
“Thanks.” Liyah scowls. “What a high bar.”
“You’re the one who set it, love.” Siobhan winks. Liyah rolls her eyes.
“You and Neen are both so dramatic. I’m not that bad. Yom Kippur was…” Intimate, somehow. She knows the dynamic has shifted; between their conversation after wine tasting and Yom Kippur spent together, they might be actual friends again. Neen’s bad enough (He admitted he was wrong twice? I mean honestly, C-J, between that and his face you should’ve shown up at his place in lingerie and a trench coat by now); she doesn’t want Siobhan to ruin it by getting any ideas. “We had each other’s backs, you know? So we wouldn’t feel like the odd one out.”
Siobhan stares her down. “Is that what you used to do for each other at summer camp?”
Always too perceptive for her own good. Or rather, for Liyah’s good. “I already told you, camp was a long time ago. I hardly remember it. Yom Kippur was practically an extension of Survival Club duties.”
Siobhan sighs. “So that’s how you’re going to play it?”
“I’m not playing anything. Besides, we should be worrying about what’s happening outside of SSC with you and Jordan.”
“There’s nothing to worry about anymore. He has a woman that ‘it’s complicated’ with, so that’s that.”
Liyah nods, then furrows her brow. “Wait, how do you know that?”
“I, em, I asked him on the way home last week.” Siobhan flushes a deep red.
“Oh my God, Siobhan!” Liyah squeals. “That’s great, I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Siobhan spins her chair so she’s once again facing her desktop monitor. “I’ll go back to this nonsense and pretend I didn’t notice your oh-so-smooth change of subject.”
Liyah removes the boxes from the dolly and opens the large one again. She pulls out the Inside Ancient Egypt sign to reveal another Inside Ancient Egypt sign. She groans. They better not have charged her for the duplicate; she doesn’t want to have to explain it to Jeff. She moves the second sign, revealing a third. And fourth, and fifth. Every single sign advertises the salty Chablis. Fuck. She ducks into the hallway and presses call.
“We’re absolutely fucked,” Liyah says as soon as Daniel answers the phone.
His laugh filters through the receiver. “Congrats? Or, I’m sorry? I need more information.”
“They’re all Chablis! All the signs are Chablis!”
“Wait, what? Do you have the receipt?”
“Yes!” Liyah all but shouts. “I checked the confirmation. I uploaded five separate files, like I thought. These took two weeks to get here. And we used the full budget allotment. Even if I could reorder them, they won’t be here in time!”
He exhales. “Two weeks? Have you tried going in person so they can print in front of you?”
“That was my first choice! The mounting thing at the FedEx near here is broken, and they said they could only give me the flimsy paper posters. And we’re out of time to place a new order online!”
“Liyah, take a deep breath. Forward me the confirmation and I’ll get a refund. Go print the paper ones. I’ll pick up some posterboard tomorrow and we’ll mount them ourselves. You’re not above a bit of arts and crafts, are you?”
“Daniel, I’m not going to be able to take a deep breath until the signs are fixed!”
“And they will be—” Daniel starts, but Liyah cuts him off.
“If you say ‘trust me,’ I swear to fucking God—”
“I gotta go. Send me the confirmation, Liyah. See you tomorrow!” And then he’s gone, and Liyah is left, alone in the hallway, telling herself not to hyperventilate.
* * *
DANIEL DECIDES TO continue the email exchange after his lunch:
To: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
From: Daniel Rosenberg
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
Okay, definitely about you.
Daniel
P.S. Where did you get it, wish.com?
To: Daniel Rosenberg
From: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
Don’t you have something better to do, DW? A marketing strategy to digitize? Posterboard you promised to purchase?
Liyah
P.S. I looked it up. Turns out it’s complete bullshit. The difference in sensitivity to flavor on different areas of the tongue is minute at best!!
And before his coffee meeting with Ella Hill, who’d started a boutique hiking gear store kitschily called Hill & Mountain:
To: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
From: Daniel Rosenberg
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
It was a mistake letting you have my work email. You can’t give me the same name as an animated five-year-old girl. I’m getting them tomorrow, like I said.
Daniel
P.S. Don’t tell Peter. It’ll ruin his day.
To: Daniel Rosenberg
From: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
Daniel Wilfred,
Your problem is that she’s a girl, not an aardvark? House Rule #3!
Liyah
To: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
From: Daniel Rosenberg
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
Do the rules still apply via email? And no, my problem is that she’s in kindergarten.
Daniel Definitely Not Wilfred Rosenberg
And when he’s back at work, his proposals all approved and no redrafting to do:
To: Daniel Rosenberg
From: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
Obviously. William. Walt. Wistopher. Wimothy. Getting warmer?
Liyah
To: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
From: Daniel Rosenberg
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
Ice cold. Woo-jin. It means “treasure of the family.”
Daniel
P.S. Sometimes romanized as U-jin, before you go getting any terrible pronunciation ideas.
To: Daniel Rosenberg
From: Aliyah Cohen-Jackson
RE: T-MINUS 8 DAYS UNTIL THE WINE MOMS DESCEND UPON US …
Ah, how very youngest child.
Liyah
P.S. Because I’m not elderly, I managed to google the pronunciation. I like it. Suits you.
Daniel stares at his screen for a few minutes, trying and failing to come up with a response. He jiggles his leg under the desk, impatient with the slowly ticking clock. He refreshes his in-box, but still no feedback about his campaign for the CTA. It would look bad to head home before five, so he forces himself to do the mindless work of sorting through his emails. Unfortunately, this means his mind wanders.
Daniel has not spent a lot of time thinking about his dad in the last ten months. At first there was the funeral, and the shiva, and the calls and texts and emails and Facebook messages. It all made him think about his dad constantly, an infinite slideshow of memories playing through his mind. But then, after about a month, the outpouring of condolences stopped. He forced the slideshow to stop, too. It was the only way he could get himself un-stopped.
Lately, the memories are coming back. Ever since Yom Kippur. It’s a slow drip rather than a fire hose, thankfully, but the water never runs out. Maybe it’ll always be running around this time of year. He should probably ask Kayla, but he doesn’t.
When he gets home, he heads straight for his bedroom, trading his suit for a long-sleeved shirt and some soccer shorts. Exercise, Daniel. That’ll fix this. He rummages through his closet for his running shoes, gives Sweet Potato a few scratches behind her ears, and he’s off.
The music coming from his headphones is as loud as it can be without drowning out the noise of oncoming cars, so he can’t hear the slap of his rubber soles on the pavement. He first heads to Wicker Park, but when he sees a man pushing his kid on a swing, Daniel promptly turns away. Instead, he runs through the neighborhood, rows of brick buildings passing him by, along with the occasional stroller or leashed dog or kid on a bicycle. An image of his dad, teaching him how to ride a bike. He runs faster. His dad, grinning when he got the puppy to roll over. He runs faster. His dad, teaching him and Kayla how to change a tire. He runs faster.
By the time Daniel ends up back at his apartment, it’s pitch-black outside and every muscle in his legs quivers with overuse. He makes it up the stairs with great effort and winces as he crouches to scoop Sweet Potato off the ground. She nuzzles her face against his neck, and he smiles.
“Thanks, Sweet P.” If he doesn’t get in the shower soon, his whole body will shut down and it might never happen. He tosses his cat forward and she lands gracefully, meowing and trotting toward her favorite perch on the couch.
Hot water pelts his back, and he feels his muscles already becoming sore. It’s a welcome ache, easy to focus on. He stands still for a while after he’s clean, letting the water wash over him. Eventually, it runs cold. Daniel swears, fumbling to turn it off as quickly as he can and towel himself off. Alex is already at Prohibition, so he just wraps the towel around his waist and heads to the kitchen.
He settles on the couch with some leftover pasta and a basketball game he couldn’t care less about on the TV. Sweet Potato keeps trying to lick the rim of his beer bottle, and eventually he gives up on shooing her away and just refuses to set it down. At the commercial break, he checks his phone. He’s got two messages: one in the Survival Club chat and one from Kayla.
Liyah to SSC
Compatriots: is there room for one more to join our ranks next week? Neen will be in town and they’re an absolute blast. Daniel can confirm.
Neen’s visit is by no means news to Daniel; Liyah mentions it every time they meet to plan events. When Liyah’s that excited, it’s hard not to be excited for her, as evidenced by Daniel’s current emotional investment in the acquisition of hundred-thousand-year-old pinky toe bones. He sends off a response:
