Page 52 of Come to Me

Something that will get her off my back.

When the waitress returns, with coffee thank God, I order the veggie omelet, no cheese, with wheat toast, no butter. Laurie hangs on every word like I'm reciting Sylvia Plath instead of ordering breakfast.

Laurie orders chocolate chip pancakes. With whipped cream. When in Rome, I suppose.

We hand the menus to the waitress and I turn all my attention to my coffee. To its creamy, robust embrace. The caffeine is finally making its way to my brain.

Good. I'm braced for an all-out attack.

I'd much rather avoid it. But I don't think it's in the cards.

"You want to talk about food, right?" I ask. Might as well get it out there.

She shrugs. "What makes you say that?"

I lean forward. I don't want to dance around this.

"Can we get this out of the way so we can enjoy the rest of our day?"

She purses her lips, considering it. "Okay. I am... a little concerned."

"About?"

"You have a history and you're alone in New York and I'm pretty sure you've lost five pounds."

"I have not."

"Well, your tits don't look quite as huge." She looks down at my chest.

I laugh. "So you're checking out my tits?"

"Always." She shifts in her seat, clearly uncomfortable. At least that makes two of us. "Just put my mind at ease. Convince me you're doing awesome and that you'll tell me if you have a problem."

I frown. Why is it my responsibility to always convince everyone I'm okay?

"That's not very convincing."

"I'm doing okay," I say. "Not awesome but okay enough."

"Can I do anything to help bring you up to awesome?"

I shake my head.

"Let me deal with it on my own."

She nods. "I don't want to ruin our day. I want to have fun dragging you to all the places I went to in college." She smiles. "And I have awesome plans tonight. You like burlesque, right?"

I relax a little.

"I love burlesque."

"Great, because I already bought tickets to this amazing performance. It's totally famous in the performance art community. And that is all going to be so much more fun if I'm not worried that you're planning your next binge."

"I'm not."

"Are you sure?" she asks.

"Yes. As long as you lay off with the don't order oatmeal shit."