“Steve’s with Leslie at the Green Mill’s poetry slam…,” Brian said, his eyebrows raised in disbelief, as he hung up the phone.
Less than a hour later, our apartment’s buzzer sounded and I quickly ran across the living room to push “door” to let Steve …and Leslie in.
I noticed Steve’s hair right off the bat. Slightly but noticeably shorter since a couple hours previous.
“I brought her back home, in time,” Steve started explaining as he walked into the living room, Leslie at his side, “Leslie took me to her former work and I got a haircut.”
Me: “Where?”
Steve: “The little Vietnamese place up on the corner.”
Me: “The one with all of the neon?”
Steve: “Yeah!”
Brian laughed, shaking his head.
We all sat in the living room, as Steve continued with the details of his date with Leslie.
Leslie sat across from us and stared straight ahead.
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As I’ve explained in previous entries, my husband of nearly two months, has yet to move into our apartment. Six more weeks and counting … So that leaves us with the weekends. Brian comes in Friday morning and catches an evening Metra train out of the city, Sunday so that he can make it to class Monday morning.
This past Sunday, I wasn’t scheduled for my ritual Sunday night burrito w/ my friend Danger. Brian and I had planned for him to take a later train (more time and dinner with my husband!). However, thanks to Steve (Brian’s best friend and a fast friend to me), he had plans within the city and offered to take Brian back to their suburb later that night.
Brian and I opted to walk up the grocery for a few dinner trimmings. As we walked towards the crosswalk, we passed the Salvation Army’s drop box, which is squeezed between the corner gas station and a Dunkin Donuts. I often know when it’s going to rain whenever I pass the box and see bags of donations. Without fail and for the sake of irony, it always rains.
We noticed the mannequin’s head right away.
Brian: “We’ll get that on our way back!”
…And so we did, Brian with a bag of groceries in one hand, my hand in his other and the mannequin’s head nestled into my left shoulder, we continued home in the rain.
A close crop of reddish hair, grey eyes and a failed attempt at glittered lipstick, we set our newly found mannequin’s head on the television set as the cats looked up in wonder.
Me: “What should we name it? Is it a boy or a girl?”
Brian: “We should name it something androgynous. Here honey, look at it from this light, it looks like a boy.”
Me: “I think it’s supposed to be a girl though …”
Brian: “Leslie.”
Me: “Yes, Leslie!”
Soon after our debate, the apartment’s buzzer went off. Steve took the chair by the window, Brian sat on the sofa and I sat across from them with Leslie’s head between my knees and a bottle of “sinful“ nail polish, painting her lips.
Steve explained the Chicago Improv Festival, as we finished dinner. The evening was still young and I wasn’t ready to say bye to my husband.
Steve: “I’m going to go out and give you guys some time before we have to leave.”
Brian: “Steve, where are you going to go?”
Steve: “I’m going to take Leslie out …I’m not sure but we’ll find something.”
Brian: “You’re going to take Leslie out …?”
Me: “You better have her back by curfew …And no kissing!”
As we shut the door, Brian pulled me in close.
Brian: “Honey, Steve is actually taking that head out …Where are they going to go?”
Me: “He said something about the Annoyance Theater …It’s a comedy club, honey …They’ll understand.”
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Brian and Steve first met in the 3rd grade. Both were the “new kids” at St. Irene's. Come recess, Brian wandered around. Being “new” meant that the soccer team had already been chosen and Brian wasn’t sure what to do. He noticed another lone kid sitting underneath a nearby tree and decided to walk over to him.
Brian: “Do you want to play tag?”
Steve: “Yeah!”
They’ve been best friends, ever since.
The first time I met Steve, Brian and I had been dating for a few weeks. Steve came over to our apartment the night before and unsuccessfully tried to get us to go out dancing. The next morning, as Brian brushed his teeth and I started coffee, the door buzzer went off. It was Steve.
He was excited and curious by the restaurants on the east side of my neighborhood and was intent on “eating the neighborhood”. I gave him a list of places and eats to try and off he went. At the top of the list was a highly recommended and rated corner spot known for their delicious pho.
As Brian and I stepped out of the shower, my phone’s text alert came from the living room.
Steve: “Is it safe to come back yet?”
Steve barreled up the stairs with a paper bag, in hand. The top list choice had been packed so he had opted to get his pho to go. I fished out a large mixing bowl from my cupboard, as Steve laid out the many accouterments to his pho, including raw beef to be cooked within the hot broth.
Since then, I often share the story of the first time I met my husband’s best friend: He cooked raw beef on my coffee table (in my vegan household).
Me: “Do you need a bigger bowl, Steve?”
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Some highlight’s of Steve and Leslie’s date:
-Shortly after Steve left, he passed a Vietnamese hair salon. He decided to stop and see how much a haircut would cost. As the woman told him “$10,” the other ladies in the salon scrunched their noses and giggled at the sight of Leslie. “What is that? It’s scary!” on woman shrieked as Steve took a seat in a salon chair.
-As Steve continued up Broadway, he passed a popular new bar/lounge with outdoor seating. He heard snickers and patrons audibly slack-jawed at the sight of Leslie, in his arms. At one point, someone called out to him, Steve turned around and without breaking his “date” story, casually and quite normally introduced Leslie. People started snapping photos as Steve posed with Leslie. They became very popular. One woman remarked that he must be interested in what matters: the brain and eyes. Steve remarked that Leslie also gives “great head” but not that he would know …He’s a gentleman.
-Steve inquired to his newfound friends where would be a good spot to go …Everyone suggested the Green Mill. As Steve made it up to the Green Mill, the bouncer stopped him for the $6 door fee. “Don’t you mean $12?” Steve joked with the bouncers, who laughed.
-Sunday nights at the Green Mill are devoted to poetry. Open mic turns into a $12 poetry slam competition. Steve sat the bar, Leslie still at his side. “I’ll have one PBR …And a water w/ lime, for the lady.” Leslie wouldn’t drink her water but Steve tipped for two drinks, anyway. It mut have been first date nerves.
-The poetry slam, according to Steve, was fantastic …A lot of talent took the stage and Steve intends to attend and perhaps participate in the future. People were making comments here or there but most seemed to understand the humor. Steve and Leslie had a great time.
-As Steve headed back to Brian and I’s apartment, from the Green Mill, a man passed him and did a double take.
Man: “Oo shit, I thought that was a real person! What’s with that, man?”
Steve: “Oo, this is Leslie …It’s our first date.”
Man: “You a comedian or something?”
Steve: “I work at Walmart.”
Man: “I’m a construction worker.”
As Steve explained his evening out with Leslie, Brian and I shook our heads, our cheeks burning from laughter.
Steve: ‘Guys …That was the best date I’ve been on in a while!”
The better part of my morning and the entirety of my afternoon was spent on Primo’s scheduled vet exam. Primo in tow is the only way I can sanely reason taking a cab anywhere. His insulin supply was near non-existent and I had spent the previous days of the week calling around to various vets near and far. A harrowing experience that is best left un-typed (more for me than you). A game of phone tag that left me grateful for the time I spent within the business and the knowledge I had gained. Primo and I are nearing 4 yrs since he first crashed diabetic. In cat years, we‘re ol‘ pros. 
As Primo and I sat in the small, ill-lit vet office it was clear that I would be handling my own cat. The assistant excused herself and the vet started in on the exam. The exam that was only needed in order for her to write a script for his pre-existing condition. Much to Primo and I’s relief, she opted to wave taking his temperature and kept any cutesy talk to a minimum.
Brian (left), waiting on the southbound train, Saturday March 7th, 2009. 
-5 cloves fresh garlic (I happen to love garlic + with this weather any boost in immunity will do. Less/more depends on taste)
I start by smashing the garlic cloves (I buy them pre-peeled, a genius idea that secretly makes me bitter for not thinking of it). Placing my stockpot on a front burner, I click on the gas + coat the bottom of the pot with extra virgin olive oil (vegetable oil would work but eww). 
Adding the garlic on low, I wait until it becomes fragrant w/ a few stirs before adding the complete contents of my one can of butter beans. Raising the heat to med/high, I half-cover + bring to a soft boil. It’s at this point that I add black pepper (sometimes red pepper flakes + celery seed because well, I like celery seed), stir. 
La Moderna makes great small pastas which can be found at grocery chains + small Mexican marts alike. Usually priced at 75 cents or less a bag, I opt for the stars due their strong resemblance to the Star of David. I never measure an exact amount but find that half a bag makes for plenty. When bean/garlic/olive oil mixture comes to a boil, add pasta + lower to a simmer, stirring occasionally. 
I like to add Saltine crackers (and ok, steal Saltines from the counter every time I walk back into the kitchen to stir the soup) + sometimes I add whole green beans or frozen sweet peas along w/ the pasta. I’m sure there are many things that could be added, Bill liked to add parmesan or a parm/romano blend. 
