4

Or not.

I’m propped up in my one extravagance in life—a plush La-Z-Boy—flipping through the channels. Only there’s not a thing on. I hate that about tv. Every time I’ve ever loved a show it’s been canceled after one season, or worse, during a season, and I’m left hanging with character’s lives on the precipice. Sometimes literally. I’ve even stayed awake at night plotting out what I would’ve had happen in their lives just to keep myself from going crazy.

I throw the remote on the sofa and lay there sprawled in my La-Z-Boy like a dying fish. Okay, this isn’t a tv show. This is my life. I feel like I’m on a precipice and my show’s about to be canceled. There has to be more than this. Sometimes I feel so empty it’s pathetic.

That’s when I hear the key in the lock, and the apartment door swings open. Aixa walks in, her cheery face a sight for my sore eyes.

“Uh-oh,” Aixa says, dropping her purse (a handmade number she’s hoping to sell to some of the local boutiques) on the sofa beside the remote.

“What?” I say, still not moving from my dying fish position.

“I know that look.”

“What look?”

“The one on your face right now.”

I make a move to sit up, then flop backwards again. “Do we have any ice cream?”

“And you’re about to drown your sorrow in Cherry Garcia. What happened?”

I roll my eyes.

Aixa sits down beside me, patting my arm. “Come on, girl. Spill the beans.”

"You really want to know?"

"That's what friends are for."

I tell her the whole story of my crappy day. When I'm finished, she cracks a smile. Then she starts laughing. I mean a full out, belly laugh that soon has me smiling too, despite my best efforts to stay somber.

"Some friend you are." I throw a pillow at her.

Aixa catches it, looking me right in the eye. "There are two pints of Cherry Garcia in there."