The way she moved around the kitchen did something to my inner Ward Cleaver; that was for sure. I could almost see her in a pale blue dress, heels, and pearls as she vacuumed the apartment. I was quite sure the thought was sexist or maybe even misogynistic, but that didn’t stop it from making me hard as a rock.
I had to sit down in the chair at the opposite side of the table and lean forward a bit to keep from being obvious as Tria placed orange juice in glasses and plates full of pancakes on the table. There were little bowls of grapes off to the side.
I didn’t even know I had little bowls like that.
I realized I had hauled Tria’s dishes up to this kitchen, so the bowls could have been hers. I didn’t remember seeing any little bowls, but I also hadn’t paid much attention to what had been in the boxes. I only noticed she didn’t have much. I mean, I didn’t have much of anything either, but other than her books, Tria didn’t seem to have anything. It made me wonder briefly just how quickly she had left her former home and how accurate the “escaping in the middle of the night” scenario might be.
Tria placed a small glass bottle of fake maple syrup in the middle of the table and sat down opposite me. She watched as I covered the pancakes in margarine and syrup and took a bite.
Then another.
Then another.
Then about twelve more.
“My God, these are incredible!” I spoke only long enough to gather up more and shovel another mouthful into my face. I leaned back in the chair, groaned, and rubbed my stomach before I stabbed another one and downed it, too.
“I’m going to eat like…ten of these,” I said as I wiped off my face. “And then I’m going to have to work out twice as long today.”
“Watching your figure?” Tria snickered as she sipped her juice. It was good, too—lots of pulp in it.
“Well, I have to stay in my weight class,” I said. “I’m right at two hundred and five pounds on most days, which puts me at the top of light heavyweight. If I gain a pound, I’d have to fight bigger guys.”
“Is it really so strict?”
“In the bar, not as much,” I told her. “But if anyone ever lost and they could show I was over the weight limit, it would definitely create a lot of drama, which would get me in a lot of trouble with Dordy. Yolanda weighs me before every match.”
“But…you’re working tonight!” Tria gasped. “What if you go over? Shit…I fucked this up already!”
“Nah,” I said with a half smile. “I was at two-oh-three on Tuesday. I have room to spare. I’ll weigh in at training today, and if I’m over at all, I’ll sit in the sauna a little longer than normal or run an extra mile. It’s all good. I can actually drop two pounds in a few hours if I need to.”
“Really?” She looked at me skeptically but at least didn’t seem to be beating herself up over it any longer.
“Yep.”
“That can’t be good for you.” She scowled.
“I’m sure it’s not,” I agreed. “I try not to play that game too much, but I did it a lot in high school for wrestling. We did nothing but drink water and eat laxatives until we puked to drop some weight before a match.”
“That’s kind of sick,” Tria said.
I shrugged. I couldn’t argue with her. It was sick. I wouldn’t go to those extremes now, but at the time, it was pretty common. I quickly changed the subject before too much of my ancient history was discussed.
“So what classes do you have today?” I asked.
“Microeconomics, statistics, and English,” Tria responded. “Mondays and Fridays are my heavy days for classes. I only have two classes on the other days.”
“When does that bus pick you up?”
“It’s really just a van,” Tria replied as she started collecting the dishes and taking them to the sink. “It should be here in about fifteen minutes.”
I got up to help though I was so full I was more tempted to flop down on the couch and fall back to sleep. If anyone felt like a mooch at this point, it would have been me, so I dried and put dishes away as Tria washed them.
Once the kitchen was spotless again, Tria grabbed Medusa’s Moneybag and a couple of textbooks before heading out the door. I crawled out onto the fire escape to smoke while I watched her wait for the van from Hoffman College to pick her up.
Krazy Katie was already out there, of course, and she waved, too, as Tria boarded the dark red van with the Hoffman crest on the side of it and headed off. I was surprised at the gesture Krazy Katie had made, and I looked over to study her fo
r a moment. Strangely enough, she looked back at me.