I feel that Bern when I smell her as I jog down the steps to the ground floor. There she is, at her mailbox, wearing jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers. Saturday morning clothes. I like how comfortable she seems to be, in her own skin. When she turns and sees me, she smiles. And then she realizes she’s smiling at me and forces herself to frown.
“Morning,” I say.
“Hey there.”
“You had breakfast yet?”
“No.”
“Come with me.”
“Now?”
She shoves her mail back into the mailbox and locks it.
“You got something else going on?”
“I mean. I was supposed to clean my apartment and do laundry this morning.”
“Supposed to?”
“It’s on my list.”
“Your To Do list?”
“I don’t like to call it that.”
I hold the front door open for her, and I don’t think she even realizes that she’s coming with me yet, even once we’re on the sidewalk.
“What do you like to call it?”
“MyWill Dolist.”
I give her a look and shake my head.
“None of your business,” she says.
“What?”
“I know what you’re thinking and it’s none of your business.”
Oh Bernie, you have no idea what I’m thinking.
“And that’s not why I am the way I am.”
“Nuts?”
It’s cute, how defensive she is all of a sudden. As she walks along beside me, I can’t help picturing how easy it would be to pick her up. She’s taller than average, but she looks…amenable. She likes to keep up with me. I like the back and forth. I didn’t at first, but it gets me high now.
“I’m not that nuts.”
“No. But you’re notnotnuts.”
“Everyone in New York is a little bit nuts.”
“Can’t disagree with you there.”
“But you’d like to.”
