When I got home, I called Jonah. He answered on the third ring.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” I said, and felt awkward. I don’t usually feel awkward talking to Jonah. He’s really easy for me to talk to. But suddenly I felt shy. I’d only called to tell him that I got the job. I guess I could have waited until the morning to tell him . . . we were going to sit up on the roof again. But . . . I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to tell him, except that I didn’t want to tell him, because it was such an awkward, arrogant thing to do.
“What’s going on?” he said easily.
I sucked my lips in and choked down a squeal. “I got the job,” I said as evenly as I could. And then I started laughing.
“Oh my God,” he said. “You got the job?”
“Yeah.” I stopped laughing, but I was smiling all over my face.
“I knew you would,” he said.
“You did?” I don’t know why I said that.
“What . . .? Yes, I did. God, Lissy . . . you’re going to be famous, baby.”
I laughed harder. “I’m not going to be famous,” I said.
“Lissy,” he said in a come-now-let-us-reason-together tone. “Those books are pretty damn famous. People are going to know who you are.”
All things considered, it wasn’t exactly on par with being a cast member of the latest hit reality TV show. Then again, it wasn’t a one-way ticket to anonymity, either.
“I’m going to die,” I said, grinning.
“What? You’re not going to die.”
“Everybody dies,” I said flippantly. “No, it’s not like that . . . Jesus. It’s . . . I just can’t believe it. I mean, ME . . . I don’t even . . . I can’t exist anymore. I’m going to die.”
He laughed, which made me start laughing again.
“You want to go celebrate?” he said.
“Celebrate?” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Celebrate like how?”
“I don’t know. I just think we should do something.”
“I didn’t celebrate when you got your job,” I said.
“You got me cupcakes,” he said.
Oh. Yeah. I had gotten him celebratory cupcakes. I’d forgotten about that. “Well, that’s nothing,” I said.
“You know I like cupcakes.”
“I like you,” I said.
“I love you.”
I sighed. “I love you.”
“You want to do something?”
“If you want.”
“Well, no, if you want.”
“Baby,” I said, “oh, God, I don’t know. Just . . . give me a donut on the roof tomorrow or something.”
“How com—” he began, then stopped abruptly. “No, wait . . . I got it. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Labels: january brings few faces
