Phoebe
After Joey and I put the cookies in the oven I put my long green coat on.
"Hey where you goin? I just got in," he asked.
"Out for a bit. Grocery shopping, maybe."
"Oh."
I gathered my keys and purse and left, locking and closing our apartment door behind me. I walked down the stairs and out the front door of the building into the cold night air.
I walked down the sidewalk to Whole Foods, picking up a basket as I entered. The air was cold.
I went in and wandered down the aisles, picking up various items - cereal, cheese, yogurt, frozen meals, cookies, cranberry juice, triscuits, hummus, pasta - as I did so, loading them into the black plastic rectangular basket.
I got to the produce section, which was colorful and smelled wonderful. I walked to the carrots. Over by the oranges I saw a woman my height, thin, with long dark hair wearing a long black coat. She walked toward me.
"Phoe Phoebe?" she asked.
"Hm?" I asked, putting a bag of mini carrots into my basket.
I wondered how she knew who I was.
"It's me, Monica."
"Monica?" I asked, vaguely recognizing the name.
"You know, Gellar."
"Oh! Omygod hi!"
We hugged an awkward hug, with our baskets to our sides.
"Are you almost done shopping?" she asked at the same time I asked "what are you doing here?"
We laughed.
"You first," she told me.
"Yeah, you?"
I looked at her basket, which had boxes of muffin, scone, cake and brownie mix in it.
"Yeah I've been eating takeout since I got back. Here, you can put some of your stuff in my basket," she offered.
"Ok. I need berries, still. And soup."
"That it?"
"Yeah."
We transferred the carrots, pasta, triscuits and yogurt to her basket. Mine felt slightly less heavy.
We walked to the berries, picking up blueberries, raspberries and strawberries, putting them in her basker. Then we went to the organic foods aisle, where she picked up several soup cans and put them in her basket.
"So?" I asked as we made our way to the cashier.
"So?" she countered.
"What are you doing here? Besides shopping."
"Oh. Well I have time off from work."
"Oh."
I looked around; "where're.........?"
"Oh, they're back in Paris."
"Oh, how's that?"
"Wonderful, exciting. The French love my food. I even speak a little French."
"Not, will you come to bed with me?"
I was reverting back to time, several years earlier, when she and I had double-dated; my date was a diplomat and hers was his translator.
She laughed, shook her head; "no."