Seven Minutes in Collegiate Heaven ft. One-Pound Pizza and A Tub of Yogurt

The washing machine is doing it again. It’s walking around the living room like a petulant child does when he wants a snack.

“I already fed you, now sit still and do as you’re told.”

It cowers back under the sink and stays put, its eyes following me, hoping to guilt me into changing my mind. I won’t. The living room is dark now, the light from the outside creeping away and getting ready for bed. I’m inclined to do the same, but it’s only 4:30. It’s much too early for a young soul like me to retire yet. I get up from the chair that makes my back hurt and tighten my robe as I walk across the kitchen floor and reach for the switch. A sky of stars comes to life all around me, their lights flickering urgently, trying to tell me something. I know what it is, but I’m too lazy to answer them. Maybe later.

The door cries out in pain and my heart goes out to her. Poor girl, we really should be more careful with her. I wonder who she’s let in. A mental checklist appears and I tick off each box as I make my way through it.

Music has been wandering in and out of our walls for a while, straying from Lily’s room as it usually does when she’s studying. Can’t be her, then.

Dust has been jumping down from the ceiling, dancing along to Lily’s music as it falls to the floor. I imagine it’s running away from Maggie. For such a small girl, she can certainly make some noise.

Freddie left about an hour ago. Off to the library, she said. I hope she’s having more luck than me.

Elsie, then. It must be Elsie.

“Heya,” she says.

“Hi, you ok?” I offer a smile as she walks in through the kitchen, dragging two large bags behind her.

“I’m hungry and tired and wet. But,” she says as she starts unpacking one of the bags, fishing out a large tub of yogurt, “at least I’ve done all my shopping for the month now.”

She hasn’t. She’ll go back to the store tomorrow.

“Well, that’s something.” I stretch my hand out and reach for a book lying face up on the table. “I finished it.” Elsie looks away from the inside of her fridge and brings one hand to her cheek, her eyes glowing.

“I can’t believe it.” She closes the fridge door, yogurt still in hand, and sits on the chair on the other side of the table.

“Oh, come on now, it didn’t take me that long.” I smile as I slide the book across the space between us like I’m about to make her an offer she just can’t refuse.

“Well?” She urges me, her eyes unblinking, wide with expectation, eyebrows raised with silent apprehension. Did I like it or not? The stakes are high, she loves this book. Do I? Only I know. I’m inclined not to tell her just for a little while longer. I like being the only one to know something.

She’s flipping through the pages now, almost instinctively it seems. She’s not even looking at them, but her hands are acting on memory.

Will sharing this piece of information half its value or double it?

“I loved it.” My body betrays me, unable to restrain the excitement that has been harboring in me for hours, pleading with me like a prisoner pleads with a warden to set him free.

“I made a few notes in the margins, I hope that’s okay.” I know it is, I asked her when I started reading the book, but it’s just something to say. You know, for the sake of conversation.

“Of course it is! Oh, I’m so glad you liked it! I’m definitely going to read what you wrote.” She starts flipping through the pages again, her eyes focused this time, eagerly searching for evidence of what she knows is already there.

“I just can’t believe how much I liked it. For such a short book, I underlined so many quotes.”

“That’s what my mom said as well!”

“She finished it?” I asked, excitement crawling up my throat again. “When is her book club meeting?”

“Later tonight, she said she’d let me know what they say. But she loved it, too! Which storyline did you –”

The door screamed again. What an attention whore. Whose presence is she announcing now?

“Heya,” says Freddie as she enters the kitchen, a great sigh escaping her the way it usually does when she’s disappointed.

“Back so soon?” I ask, pressing an empty mug to my mouth and pretending to take a sip.

“Where were you?” Asks Elsie. She wasn’t home when Freddie left.

“The library. I was planning on staying there for a few hours but I just can’t focus.” She sits in the chair nearest to the door, slumping in it so low her knees almost touch the floor.

“That’s okay Freddie, everyone needs a day off sometimes.” Says Elsie, getting up from her chair and resuming unpacking her groceries.

“Yeah, except that I did nothing yesterday, or the day before that, probably the day before that, too…” Her chin is so low it looks like it’s touching her chest.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ve still gotten nowhere on my essay.” It’s true. I hope saying that will make her feel better.

“That means nothing to me.” The smile on her face says otherwise. It’s not my failure she takes pleasure in, I know that. Sharing that information just halved her unease, both of us shouldering its weight now as opposed to just her. I like making that happen for others. Taking away a little bit of their pain, I mean. If I didn’t have this bit of information to share with her, I would have offered to make cookies. The double-chocolate oat ones that she likes so much. I keep forgetting to send her the recipe.

“What are you guys up to now?” She says, the cloud of disappointment around her escaping through the window silently, making sure not to make any noise so she doesn’t notice its desertion.

“We were just talking about –” starts Elsie unsuccessfully.

“Guys. Guys guys guys guys guys guys guys –” Says Maggie, suddenly standing before us in the kitchen with hair disheveled and clothes crumpled like tissues. How did I not hear her coming down the stairs? If there’s one thing she isn’t, it’s quiet…

“What, Maggie, what what what –”

“You will never believe what I just found!” Her hands shoot up in front of her like a zombie holds his and, clasped between white-knuckled fists, a flier proudly displays the words:

“February 27th, pizza extravaganza at Belgrave,” Elsie says, reading out the first line on the poster.

“One pound slices sold until five P.M.,” continues Freddie.

“Get them while they’re – wait,” I say. “Does this mean that they’re selling each slice for the price of one pound or that each slice they’re selling will weigh one whole pound?” I hold my hands out far and wide, my mouth shaped like an O, childlike wonder escaping from my throat and pinching my cheeks red as it goes.

I did not expect them to start laughing.

“What do you mean one whole pound?” Asks Freddie between giggles. “How much do you think that is?”

I gesture towards my widespread, hopeful hands. “I don’t know! Like a kilo?”

The three of them exchange glances and start giggling again.

“Quote of the day!” They say at the same time. Freddie reaches for the white board above my head and Elsie runs to grab the white board marker in the living room. As they busy themselves with immortalizing my blunder, Maggie opens her phone and shows me the conversion. Okay. I get it. So the one whole pound deal wouldn’t have been that spectacular…

“What do you guys say? Do you wanna go?” Maggie says, waving the flier around and into our faces.

“Well, it’s 4:37 right now so…” The four of us exchange silent words of approval and, once I get up, simultaneously jump into the air and stomp on the ground three times. We wait in silence for 10 whole seconds until –

“What?” Says Lily, slightly breathless from running up the stairs.

“Belgrave is having a one-pound-per-slice pizza sale going until five. You in?” She looks down at her phone and then looks back up at us.

“Meet at the door in two minutes,” she says, already making her way downstairs. Without a second to waste, we all scurry up the stairs and into our rooms.

In the living room, the washing machine starts walking around again, having taken a break to listen to us talking. The dust bounces off the walls and towards the door, calming her as she gets ready to work again. The music engages my childlike wonder for as long as it can, keeping it safe from the disappointment still luring beyond the window. The tub of yogurt stands alone on the table, resting near a book full of stories told, and under a flier of stories yet to be lived.