The Way You Make Me Feel(57)
“Interesting. Are you a vegetarian?” I asked.
Glancing around quickly, she leaned in a bit and whispered, “No. Between you and me, I don’t actually think their chicken is free-range.” Her eyebrows lifted.
I raised my own. Quelle horreur. “Are you for real?”
“For real.” A firm, knowing nod. “But their veggies are grown in their own garden, and they’re heavenly.” I stored that fact away. Strengths: veggies. Weaknesses: chicken. We bailed before it was our turn to order, already moving on to our next destination, the Frank ’n’ Frank truck, which served, you guessed it, fancy hot dogs. My dad and I both loved this truck, so I braced myself for some stiff competition. We surveyed the long line before us. It was peak lunch hour, so that wasn’t surprising.
“Hm … this truck doesn’t even give you options,” Rose pondered as she glanced at the menu scrawled on the side of the shiny white truck in neon green. “There’s, like, one hot dog, and you get grilled onions on it with various condiments.”
I nodded. “Their hot dogs are freaking delicious, that’s why. Why dilute the product?”
Rose stood there looking like a serious cult leader in her caftan. “Not too different from the KoBra, we keep it minimal, too.”
“My dad knows his strengths,” I said. Because we were both hungry, we grabbed a couple of hot dogs (Rose discovered she could actually get a vegan one, bleh) and sat down at a nearby bus stop bench shaded by a large magnolia tree.
“This is fun,” Rose said between bites.
“You sound surprised.”
She shrugged. “I never know what I’m getting into with you. And … I still don’t get why we need to wear costumes, but whatever.”
I pointed my hot dog at her. “Aha! You say ‘whatever’ because you know the costumes are purely for fun. And could it be that you’re embracing hijinks right now?”
“Calm down, Clara,” she said. “You’re so annoying.”
“I know,” I said with a laugh. A bus pulled up, and we watched some people unload before it drove off, the exhaust fumes spewing some debris up into the air. I waved it away from my face. “Thanks for hanging out with me today.” It was getting easier and easier to say things like that to Rose without having to crack a joke, too.
“Of course.” She wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “I know what it’s like to need a distraction when you’re worried about stuff.”
I was hesitant before I asked, “So, is that how you cope with your anxiety?”
And to my surprise, Rose didn’t shut it down. She fiddled with her straw. “Kind of. Sometimes I think it’s just me being a worrywart? I’ve always been this way. I worry about everything. And sometimes the dumbest stuff keeps worrying me, days and weeks after.” A breeze hit us then, and it felt so good. She lifted her face up to it. “It’s like this pitch-black field where I’m forced to walk, and I know there’s a giant hole somewhere waiting for me. So I’m constantly thinking about it, when I’m going to drop into this pit.”
That sounded like a literal nightmare, and it hit me then how seemingly perfect people were just as messed up as everyone else. I stayed quiet so she would keep talking.
“Sometimes, I can’t … live in the moment. I’m always thinking of what-ifs and the terrible things people could be thinking about me.” She looked up at me. “I always think everyone’s mad at me. All the time. And it’s like, I don’t really care? But I do. It’s hard to explain.”
“You mean, like your parents?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. I mean, yeah, of course I worry about what they think. But literally everyone. Like a stranger on the street. If I say something dumb to a barista, it bothers me for weeks. If someone doesn’t respond to a text or e-mail right away, I’m convinced I did something wrong. I feel as if my brain’s trolling me.”
“Your brain is a jerk.”
She laughed, the sound filled with relief. “It is.”
“Do you want me to give your brain a talking-to?” I joked, but inside I felt a flare of sympathy and frustration for her. Rose’s shallow breathing—it was a way for her to calm that troll brain down. I knew that dealing with something like this wasn’t as simple as hanging out with friends to forget your worries, but I was glad to be that friend for her these days.
We finished up our hot dogs and headed to our next destination, a lobster-roll truck in Glendale. As far from the ocean as you could get in LA, but I guess things didn’t always make sense.
CHAPTER 26
A few days later, my dad hopped into the truck, where Rose and I were setting up for the day. “Ladies,” he said, giving each of us a nod.
“Man,” I said with an exaggerated bow.
Wearing a stiff new Dodgers cap, my dad rubbed his hands together. “All right, how did yesterday go?”
Rose grinned. “Great. We ran out of pork, so we stopped by the store and got more ingredients on the way back.”
He gave me a little sideways hug in greeting. “Good job, my ladies.”
“Please stop saying ‘ladies.’ Blech.” I elbowed him in the side.
“And!” Rose exclaimed, holding up a finger. “We had our best day ever, money-wise!” She and I bumped fists, then did a little dance.