Sushi Rice

It was Friday evening, I was as zen as my old yoga instructor Kelly and I was seeing a friend whom I hadn’t seen in over 15 years. Outside, fall was being overtaken by villainous winter and the darkness of night showered the sky.

As I stepped out into the lightness evening, I unlocked my phone to tell Rebecca that I’d arrived. She was picking me up and we were headed to some ice cream shop east of Montreal. I told her that I preferred somewhere in the city but she insisted on this place.

“Sure, no worries,” I’d texted. It wasn’t about the ice cream.

I selected the “messages” app on my rose gold iPhone and typed:

“I’m outside Namur, where are you parked?”

I exited the app and decided that I would scroll through Instagram in the meantime.

Opening Insta, I was bombarded by three comments, two likes and a message. I checked the likes. Ahhh…two likes from this cute girl I followed on instagram. JC was biracial and of Columbian and Haitian descent, she was absolutely stunning. She was longtime friends with our mutual acquittance Amanda. Amanda started a clothing brand called “Arkiteektur” and had reposted Montrealers sporting her clothes. JC was one of those models. An image from Becca popped up on my screen plus a text message that read:

“I’m parked facing the Dunn’s, I’m across the street. I’ll wait outside my car for you. I’m in a white Audi.”

The pedestrian crossing light was red. Decarie was flooded with cars and I was too tired to play Russian roulette with them.

I closed my eyes and inhaled; I was cool as an English cucumber. I’d just done breathing exercises on the metro. Someone’s heavy steps on the pavement passed me by and opened my tired eyes to see a green light.

I booked it, scanning around for an overpriced car that I knew too well. Growing up, my Dad drove an Audi. I wasn’t a fan of the car or him in it.

I saw a botched bleached blonde haired girl who’s husky figure towered over the height of the sports car.

As I approached her, I waved and forced a grin.

“Hey man. It’s been too long.”

“Lizzy,” she shrieked!

She caught me in a headlock sort of hug.

After a few moments, she loosened her grip.

I backed away, walked to the passenger’s side and opened the door, it resisted.

“Try again,” she said while falling into the driver’s seat.”I just unlocked it.”

I tugged at it again but no luck.

“My car doesn’t like you today for some reason,” she clicked unlock again.

For the third time, I pulled and sure enough, the door finally allowed me in.

I took a seat, straddling my tote between my legs.

“Fancy car you got here,” I ogled the expensive, clearly new, customized radio system.

She frowned, “are you kidding? It’s whatever. I’m just leasing it for now.” She turned the volume knob several notches louder and put us in drive.

We left the parking lot and headed on Decarie.

“So what’s so dope about this ice cream place that we’re missioning to Longueuil?” I yelled over the music and kept my eyes on the road.

“it’s the best, I love their stuff! You’re definitely gonna wanna take pictures for instagram, too. I saw you have more than two thousand followers, that’s impressive. Kind of an overnight success, no?”

I glared at the gaping hole in her right earlobe and remembered a Facebook photo where she had had spacers.

I gingerly rolled down the radio dial. The music dissipated, going from dance club level to country club.

I glanced at her, “I mean when I first got instagram I followed people I knew. It was my basic profile then I started my food blog in 2017. I’ve accumulated some clout there plus I’m decently consistent at posting original food creations. It’s basically a part time job but I know it’s gonna help my brand one day. Having a strong social media brand is everything nowadays but I wouldn’t classify my success as overnight.” I huffed, snapping my head back to the right rear view mirror. In it, I saw a truck trying to merge behind us.

“Alright, don’t get your panties in a twist,” her grip tightened around the leather steering wheel, she jerkingly merged onto the 15 south.

"HONK!" She almost left an imprint of her hand on the horn, letting it sound for about 3 seconds. Then, she flipped the male trucker her middle finger.

“GO SHIT IN YOUR HAND, ASSWIPE,” Rebecca hollered!

Due to nightfall and my impaired vision, I only now noticed the immense crack all along the car’s windshield. To say that the glass was dented would be the understatement of the year.

“So,” I could see her staring from my peripherals. I concentrated on the expressway,

“You wanna tell me what the pride flag in your snapchat bio is about? My mom and I were curious. It’s cool, I have a trans cousin who’s off her rocker and her brother is gay as the Flinstones! I won’t judge you!”

I dug my bottom teeth into my top lip and slowly exhaled from my nose.

I looked at her now. “Ummm, I am very involved in the LGBTQIA2+ community. My best friends vary from gay to straight to queer and so on. I’m simply showing that I’m an ally because a lot of people aren’t these days.”

“Fine with me,” she chimed. “Also, my mom said that your mom mentioned you’re in Verdun now. How do you like it?”

“Verdun’s great. I love it.” I breathed easier now and my jaw softened.

“Oh, that’s good,” she increased the Audi’s speed. “I’m glad you like it. I’m personally not a fan. In my opinion: Verdun’s ghetto.”

“Hmmm,” I unzipped my hoodie. Being in this ostentatious vehicle was bothering me now. “Why’s that?”

“Well I’m an integration aid, right? And when I was building my sub hours, I substituted at Verdun elementary. It honestly wasn’t great.” She slowed down and put the car in cruise control.

“What makes something ghetto in your opinion?” I felt my lips pucker.

“Well the buildings are old, there’s no parking anywhere and it smells like a sewer in India,” she chuckled.

I chomped on my tongue and held my breath.

“Yes, Verdun is very cultured with restaurants of many nationalities. I live right near the school actually. What I like about the neighbourhood is its walking and biking, eco-friendly vibe. I go to the low waste grocery stores weekly and shop at the thrift store for all my clothes. Call me ghetto then?”

“Aw Lizzie,”she scoffed, “no need to get offended.”

“I’m not offended,” I lied. “I can agree to disagree.”

Now we were taking exit 53 toward Longueuil and we couldn’t get there fast enough, so much for making amends.

She blabbered on, “The kids in Verdun were all delinquents. My goal was to be a correctional officer initially but my plans didn’t turn out. Anyway, I basically treat all my kids how I would treat inmates.”

The traffic light turned from yellow to red, Rebecca stopped behind a silver Honda Civic.

“Yellow means slow down not stop. Jesus Christ, people don’t know how to drive, eh!”

Up ahead I noticed a homeless man shaking a paper Tim Hortons cup going from car to car in hopes of getting some change. He held a black lab by a long, leather leash.

CLICK. The locks on the door sounded but were already secured.

“Gotta make sure these hobos stay out y’know, I don’t want anyone damaging my car.”

I squinted, “Right,” I mumbled.

The old man had a tattered grey sweatsuit on and a shaven head with two different style boots covering his feet.

“And the fact that he has a dog. That’s literally animal abuse. Someone should call the SPCA on him.”

“I mean I did accidentally kill your fish that one time when we were kids. I am still truly sorry about that,” I snorted.

She was mute.

“Make ‘em laugh?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Bad joke, I apologize.”

“I don’t even remember that. What happened?” The light turned green and she gunned it at a slight incline.

“Well I know that I gave your gold fish like 10 flakes of food because I wanted to give it a treat for being a good little fishy. That evening, your mom called my mom and complained that the fish had died and I was most probably the one who killed it. My mom demanded the truth about what happened. I told her that I was trying to be a good pet owner and I didn’t mean to. I got my walkman taken away and was grounded for a month.” I looked down at my charcoal Timberlands.

“That’s not animal abuse, it was an accident. This person is clearly mistreating this dog on purpose,” her eyebrows creased. “About the fish, it’s water under the bridge.”

“Cool.” I looked up ahead.

Now, we were taking the Quebec 132 East/ Route 20 ramp to Longueuil. “Monster” by Justin Bieber and Shawn Mendes started playing on the stereo.

‘Ahhh, I love this song!” She cranked up the radio once again.

My ears almost bled. “Hey Bec, can we please turn it down a pinch?”

“Sure, whatever,’ she lowered it a smidge.

“Merge into right lane and take exit 85 Boulevard Roland-Therrien,’ she read from her phone GPS. Rebecca held the phone with her right hand and steered the car with her left.

Luckily we were close to the destination. I could hopefully eat a slush or something in peace. I loved ice cream but ice cream didn’t love me.

The Audi was like a bowling ball, scattering us into the parking lot of the ice cream shop. At this point, I was as nauseous as a kid coming off a rollercoaster. I could feel my stomach acid clawing its way up my throat.

I clicked my seatbelt free and fled outside. I snagged my phone from my pocket, any distraction was a good one. One missed call from my good friend Daphne.

“Sorry, I got a missed call from a friend and she only calls when it’s important. Give me a sec and I’ll meet you in there?”

“No problem.”

I clicked Daphne’s contact icon, hit call and brought the cell to my right ear.

First ring, nothing. Second ring…..still no answer. Third ring, she was busy now I guessed.

Her perky cheerleader voice recited the answering machine message. “Hey there, you’ve reached Daphne Vandette-Tardif and I’m unable to take your call. Please leave me a message and I’ll hit you back as soon as I possibly can. Thanks!”

I hung up and texted her instead, no one under 30 listened to voicemails.

‘Hey love, I missed your call. I’m just out right now. You good?” I hit send and slid my iPhone 8 into my tote.

Pulling the shop door open and stepping into the sugary aromatics, I staggered. There was a line as long as the one for Disney’s Space Mountain, at least ten children having tantrums and a modern ”under the sea” themed jungle gym. I could smell the air riddled with toxic toddler sweat and puke. Rebecca didn’t take me to an ice cream parlour, she took me to a mini indoor zoo carnival.

I approached her standing in line, “tell me again why we came here?”

“Isn’t it funny how both of our younger brothers are thriving and we’re just here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Speak for yourself, Bec. I’m not exactly where I want to be right now but I’m hustling to get where I wanna go. I know that everyone has their own timeline.”

“I guess.”

“If you want to be a correctional officer then you can do it. I believe in you and you should too. We’re only 24 years old and still figuring life out. There’s no countdown, no shot clock, no gun to your head. Take whatever time you need, girl.”

She stared at me like I had just spoken in Greek.

“Well you haven’t changed a bit. Still the dreamer, eh?” Rebecca asked facetiously.

“They’re goals not dreams and I have a lot of them. I don’t appreciate the mocking, though.”

“Look, not everyone is meant for something great,” she took a bite of what looked like vanilla chocolate chip ice cream and sucked her plastic spoon.

“I think the way you think of yourself and speak to yourself is how you present yourself to others. If you think you’re mundane then that’s all you’ll ever be. I think you’re pretty smart and conscientious. Not sure if that means anything to you.”

“Likewise,” her tone was as bland as sushi rice. “I’m just saying that not everyone has that kind of childish, naive way of thinking.”

“Whatever man, if you lack self confidence then that’s not my problem. Just because our moms are friends again doesn’t mean we have to be. Clearly you have a lot of mental issues to work out and only you can do that. It’s not my job to hold your hand, It’s not my job to be your friend. I wish you well. Have a lovely evening, Rebecca.”

I couldn’t stay there any longer, my head felt like a water balloon about to explode. I bobbed through the school of children, tucking my face into my chest. Using the weight of my left linebacker shoulder, I pushed the exit door and headed home. I didn’t have a car but maybe I’d call an UBER.