Delivery Happiness by Elise Sax

Author:Elise Sax [sax, elise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elise Sax
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

“Selling Protein Drinks on Instagram”

I followed Joe up the street. He was true to his word about taking it easy. The trail started out flat and straight, and it followed the river. It was a lovely day, warm and sunny with a nice breeze. It almost made me want to be alive, despite the jackhammer against my head. It wasn’t as loud of a jackhammer as it was when I first woke up, but it still pounded every minute or so just to remind me that I shouldn’t drink.

Joe was careful to stay by my side, even though I was moving at little more than a crawl. “Nice trail, right?” he asked. I nodded in reply. I still wasn’t comfortable talking while I rode the bicycle. I needed to concentrate fully on my fear of falling. My hands were wrapped around the handlebars in a death grip. My knuckles were white, and I was feeling a burn begin in my upper arms from the exertion. So far, my legs were doing fine. I guess that was because we were going so slowly that I only needed to pedal once every few feet.

“Nice that the city made the trail next to the river so we could enjoy the view,” Joe continued. “There’s a picnic spot a couple miles up, too. Right on the banks of the river. There’s a fire pit and a picnic table.”

“Are we having a picnic?” I asked and was ashamed of the sound of hope in my voice, even though I had just consumed a mocha and two bear claws on top of a hangover.

“What’re your thoughts on baked ziti?” he asked.

“Pretty much all of my thoughts on baked ziti are good, all except for my thoughts about not having any baked ziti.”

“I make a mean baked ziti,” Joe commented.

I took in his words and rearranged them in my mind until I thought I understood what he meant when he talked about making a mean baked ziti. “Are you going to bake ziti for me? Is that what’s happening?” I asked, swerving my bicycle as I spoke. “Are we bicycling to your house?”

“It’s on the trail. I thought you would like to see it. There’s a view and some other things I wanted to show you.”

“And baked ziti?”

“And baked ziti,” he agreed. I dared to turn my head and saw him smile at me. He had a very nice smile. Still, I wondered if baked ziti was a euphemism for something I wasn’t prepared to give or consume. And then I wondered if baked ziti was a pretext for something I wasn’t prepared to give or consume. But I kept on pedaling, following Joe to his house.

The trail started an uphill climb, which I was surprised to find was manageable. I should have been concerned about going to Joe’s home. After all, he was more or less a stranger, and I didn’t know where he lived. Maybe he lived in an area with no cell service, not that I had brought my cell phone.

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