E and that damn red box ....

“Ah ha, there it is!”

“Uh, hmm?”

“Oh wake up J, I’ve found the box. It was lying at the foot of the bed. Why didn’t we notice it last night?”

“Uh? Hmm.” I could have sworn we had only fallen asleep minutes ago. I forced one eye open. Ok, we’d had almost three hours sleep. I felt terrible.

“Key, key, key,” she was now saying. “Have you seen the key? J! Wake up J! I don’t know where the key is!”

I didn’t need this right now. “Good God E, do you know what time it is? It’s not even 7am.” 

“I know J! But look! The box!” she was waving a red box with steel lock on the front around. “I found it! So where’s the key I wonder?” 

I tried to get my head back under the covers to block out the sound of her enthusiasm, but it was pointless. She was on her feet now, still undressed, opening drawers and rummaging through boxes, lifting up the clothes and underwear that were strewn around my apartment. 

 “J, you should really get this mess sorted Mister,” she said.

 “Actually, I was thinking of getting a maid,” I replied, sitting up and folding my arms. I was still tired enough that keeping a straight face was a simple task. Sure enough, she froze where she stood. While half bent over, my jeans with the belt hanging out still in her hand, she turned her head and looked over her shoulder at me. 

“A what?” She didn’t look amused.

“A maid … ‘oooh, a man needs a maid,’” I sang, before breaking off abruptly, ducking as E launched herself at me from where she stood, all fingernails and wide-eyed insanity. “Argh, get off, it was a joke! A joke!” She has some strength for such a small thing. 

Lying together, once she had clamed down, our arms and legs tangled in the covers, gasping to get our breath back, I reminded E that today was Thursday, which meant…

“Roast Chicken Day, yes I haven’t forgotten,” she said. 

Thursdays, ever since I had moved into this arrondissement, had been classed in this way due to maddening smells of roast chicken exuded by the “Café Neuf”, the brasserie on the corner before the Metro steps. The first time we walked past it together we made a pact to meet there every Thursday at midday. Of course, the novelty of eating their chicken wore off after a couple of weeks – five for E – but the rest of the menu smells just as good.

“Yes, but it’s not just any old Roast Chicken Day E,” I reminded her, “it’s a year since the first time we were …”

“Noooo! Really. We’ve been there 51 times then?”

“Um, I dunno ...” I wasn’t sure if it worked like that, but the date was almost the same. “Anyway, I have only had three hours sleep, and I really don’t want to be grumpy when we sit down to have lunch on this very special day, so please E, can we just get some more shut-eye?”

“Ah, a grumpy lunch date. No thanks.” She curled up against me and closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed and her long eyelashes lay motionless, her grip on my shoulder relaxed to nothing. Her face – it was always so dreamily calm when she was falling asleep. It amazed me how she managed it. Watching her like this, I began to dose until I was fully under.

Suddenly I heard her voice shout, “J!” 

Wide awake again, I thought my heart was going to explode with the shock.

“What is it?” I panted, my eyes pulsating like electric basketballs.

“The box! I forgot about the box!” she yelled, jumping out of the bed again.