“I have forty-two minutes,” Dana said, before Sadie even finished her lazy delivery of, “I have a question for you.”
Sadie blinked at her, seated on the other side of the dining room table. She looked more confused than affronted and she glanced down at her half-finished breakfast, then at the hanging clock, then at Dana. “I thought you didn’t work until eleven.”
“Work at a eleven,” Dana confirmed quickly. “And a five minute stop at the bank that will probably take fifteen; ten minute stop at the gas station; ten minutes at my mother’s to pick up some box she doesn’t have room for anymore; twenty minutes to promise her I’m eating all my vegetables and saying hello to attractive, reliable-looking strangers; plus another fifteen minutes somewhere in there when my boss calls and asks me to pick up the afternoon’s hot coffee for the office; and all the loop-de-loop driving it will take to get all of that done.” Dana gave her a fast smile. Taking a breath, she looked up at the clock. “I have forty… thirty-nine minutes.”
Sadie paused, and Dana could almost see the calculations running through her head. She missed when Sadie silently started in on her own set of numbers.
“Okay,” Sadie said. “If we skip the question and your immediate rejection, my pleading, your request for details, my explanation, your argument that we can’t possibly, my argument that we so can, the hour you’ll spend insisting that we won’t and my eventual stubborn win, we’ll just have enough time.” Sadie put down her fork, purposefully standing up and heading for the door.
Dana turned with her as she passed, but didn’t follow. “What?” she demanded.
“You did laundry last night, right?” Sadie asked, already half-way down the apartment hallway toward the bedrooms.
“Yes,” Dana said.
“So your black skirt is clean?” Sadie asked. Dana started down the hall after her when she saw her skip the door to her own room and head for Dana’s.
“I haven’t worn that in months,” Dana said. “Probably not.”
Sadie had opened her closet and was staring into it with her hands on her hips. “This might take longer than I thought.”
“What are we doing?” Dana demanded. She considered stepping in front of her to shut the closet door, but wasn’t sure if that would slow her down at all.
Sadie pulled a twenty out of her pocket, and handed it to Dana without looking. “When you get gas, fill the tank. We’re going to need it.”
“What are we doing?” Dana repeated.
“You’ll see,” Sadie said. She turned to face Dana, just in time to stop the next word coming out of Dana’s mouth. “I have lived with you for two years. Known you for five. I come with crazy plans every day of my life. That’s almost two thousand plans that you’ve witnessed or contributed to. Look me in the eye and tell me that I’ve ever forced you to come along on a bad one.”
Dana sat down on the bed and considered that for the next thirty-three minutes. Sadie sorted through her closet.
Which was how she showed up to work at eleven with leggings, skirt and band-shirt tucked into the bag on her shoulder. She dangled a pair of red ankle boots from one hand. There was a concert ticket, printed with a location three states away in her back pocket.
“Going somewhere after work?” the girl at the desk next to her asked, seeing Dana slide her boots under her desk.
“Apparently,” Dana said. She couldn’t resist a smile as she turned on her computer for the day.