Work Text:
There didn’t used to be waiting, but now there is waiting. The ins and outs of every face lac used to fascinate her. Now she is bored. Even though she wins the bet on when Diabetic Dave will come back through triage, everything seems to have lost its lustre. She buys everyone pizza with the money but doesn’t eat any. Thor saves her a bite of cheese which she throws away without hesitation. Waiting fills up the empty space in her life. Waiting creates more empty space to fill where there was none. She sighs.
If Jackie doesn’t make bail, her trial will start in a few months; at least, that’s what Zoey’s heard. She’s hoping everything can settle out of court, because the idea of being subpoenaed to testify makes her nervous. Everything’s been making her nervous, but she’s gotten better at putting on a tough face. She figures it’s what Jackie would do. What Jackie would want her to do. Why is she thinking about what Jackie would want anyway? Jackie is a liar and a thief, among other things.
Thor’s taken notice to her going through the motions, and invites her out for a drink. She tries not to be bummed, but it pours out of her. She cannot keep her body closed.
“So…” They sit in scrubs on spinning bar stools. She swings herself back and forth.
“I should get home.”
“Zoey, the only thing that would make you look sadder are scrubs from Crúz. Are you still upset about Jackie?”
She mumbles: “Kinda.”
“Everything she did was completely fucked, but you know none of it is your fault, right?”
“Yeah.” She pauses. “It’s just so weird you know? Someone you trust, someone who other people trust...with their lives.”
“I know.” He takes a sip of his cherry colored cocktail. “We should have seen it coming.”
“We didn’t.” Zoey frowns. She shakes the ice around in her identical cherry colored cocktail. She tosses the cherry in her mouth, stem and all.
“Can you tie it into a knot?” She asks, trying to speak clearly. Thor looks at her puzzled, so she spits out the stem. “Me either.”
///
She has a scheduled skype date with Prentiss, and tries her best to tidy up her apartment beforehand. The bed’s made, everything looks pretty decent, she is in her pajamas and fluffs her hair up so it looks nice. He calls.
“Hey babe.”
“Hey.”
“I got your bubblegum, and sudoku the other day. I’ve been trying to fight the guys off of the Hello Kitty stickers but it’s been tough.” She laughs. “How’s New York, are you OK?”
“Yeah.” She stops. “No. I don’t want to talk about it really.”
They are quiet.
“I wish you’d come home.” She looks down at her keyboard.
“Six weeks.”
“Six weeks? I thought you weren’t going to be back for months?”
“They granted my leave request. I put it in right after I re-enlisted.”
“What? Why are you coming back so soon?” She tries to hide her excitement.
“Wedding. My roommate from school is getting married.”
“How long will you be here?” Her relief reaches him through the screen, and their distance becomes irrelevant—for a moment.
“Not long, three, four days maybe.” He sighs. “Can you hang in there until I get home?”
“I don’t know, I’ll try.”
“Good.” They make eye contact. “I have to go Z, we’ll talk soon, ok?”
“Ok.” She shuts her computer and goes to bed.
///
Jackie tries to make bail and succeeds. Jackie tries to make amends and fails. Her presence looming through the halls of the hospital is awkward for everyone. Zoey ignores her, but it’s hard. Jackie’s infiltrated her every thought, and getting work done while she’s around becomes near impossible. Will Akalitus rehire her? Will she be able to blindside a judge the way she’s blindsided everyone else in her life? Zoey receives a text from Grace.
Everything sucks. It reads. She stopped here right after she got out.
Zoey locks herself in the bathroom stall, unsure of how to respond. She’s here ruining everyone’s lives too! Delete. I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE HER. Delete. That is all kinds of fucked up. She debates for a second, but deletes it.
Tell your dad I’m going to grab you and Fi after school today. Send.
She isn’t quite sure how to appropriately commiserate with a fifteen year old, but she will figure it out and play things by ear. Her phone buzzes.
Fi has shit to do. There’s a pause.
Can you come get me now?
She is off in twenty minutes. Zoey obliges Grace’s request telling Gloria that she has some personal matters to attend to, and declines specifics.
Grace’s hair blows back with the breeze as Zoey walks up to the school.
“I told them I was sick.”
“No you didn’t.” Zoey opens her arms anyway. Grace falls into her.
“Everything sucks.” She breathes.
Zoey suggests they get froyo and head back to her apartment to watch a movie. As yet to be decided, definitely rated R, definitely something her father would be against. Grace agrees. They settle on something crass, Grace kicks her boots off by the door, then they sit next to each other on the couch.
“This is just totally fucked.”
“Yep.” Zoey pauses. “Shut up, they had Strawberry Boba? Can I have one?”
“Sure.”
The movie takes their mind off of Jackie for a moment, soon Zoey’s phone rings. It’s Kevin. He’s furious.
Is Grace with you?
“Yeah, here let me put her on.”
Thank God. Mia! She’s with Zoey.
“Your dad doesn’t sound happy.” Grace rolls her eyes.
“Hi dad.”
Why haven’t you answered your phone? I called six times!
“Calm down, it died.”
Why are you at Zoey’s?
“Because Zoey’s my friend? Chill out, everything’s fine.”
I’m coming to get you, where does she—
Grace hangs up.
Unfortunately it doesn’t take long for Kevin to arrive. Grace has fallen asleep on the couch, and Zoey’s drinking reheated day old coffee. She lets him in, but prevents him from unloading right away.
“Sorry, I thought she called you.”
“Well, she didn’t!” Zoey hands him a large sticky note.
“This is my schedule for the next two weeks, if you need me.” It takes a minute. He finally realizes they’re together in this, then he looks down at the paper and runs his thumb over it.
“Thanks.” He diffuses before sitting on the futon next to his daughter and trying to wake her up. “Grace? Grace, we need to get home. Mia’s making dinner.”
Grace stirs a little, hugging onto the throw pillow beneath her. “No.”
“Listen, G-race,” Zoey tries to lighten the mood with finger guns. “I have Wednesday off next week. Come over, we can get take out, clog our arteries together.” Grace glares at her as she gets off the couch. “Or you know, not. We totally don’t have to do that.”
Kevin waits in the doorway, trying not to appear impatient. He’s failing. He can’t help it.
“I’ll be down in a minute.” Grace grabs her things and urges him out the door.
“Grace, we need to hurry.”
“I said a minute, Jesus! Can we have a little privacy please?” Kevin furrows his brow, but relents. He walks outside the door, letting it close. Grace slides her shoes on.
“Thanks.” She’s reached a point in her adolescence where ‘feelings’ can’t come out of her mouth with any sense of coherence. Nor does she want them to. Her body aches. She doesn’t know how to form the words I’m worried about my mom. Or, I’m mad at my mom. What she did was unfair to me. Or, I am hurting. So she says the following: “Have you talked to her?”
Zoey shakes her head.
“You have my phone number.” Zoey hands Grace her book bag. “Call me.”
Grace smiles, and walks out the door.
///
Before her shift starts the next day, she is sitting at the bodega across the street with stale cart coffee and a white envelope sealed with a Hello Kitty sticker. She doesn’t want to open it, dreaming of what it says. I want to break up with you, long distance is too hard for me right now, I met some hot babe who’s a rescued POW and likes to ride my dick somethin’ fierce— she rips it open.
The boys have gotten into fist fights over these stickers. I let Pvt. Sager use a few on a letter to his daughter. I’m very grateful to have found someone so thoughtful. The wedding is the 27th of next month, would you join me? See you soon.
She sighs, looking up at the clouds, hand on her chest: I’d be honored.
Next to his signature is the sticker she thought about keeping. Hello Kitty with a little stethoscope and a Florence Nightengale hat. She is warm the rest of the day.
After her shift is over, she grabs a pack of construction paper from Duane Reade, and heads home. She cuts colors into strips, and writes numbers with neon sharpie on each one. After that, she links them all together and hangs them on the wall. She takes the last one, and tucks it into an envelope. Before sealing it closed, she take it back out, uncaps the sharpie, and writes in big letters on the side: MISS YOU, ♥ Z. It is in the mail the next day.
///
She does not prepare herself for the following conversation:
“Are you talking to Grace?” She has not shown Jackie the texts. Sometimes Grace will email her in the middle of the night. Sometimes she’ll be talking nonsense, but sometimes she’ll actually let her frustration out coherently. Zoey doesn’t know how to deal with the latter. She feels the same. Finally, she relents because being a grownup is difficult. They commiserate. She’s been having Grace over once a week after school for Froyo.
“Sure, we email sometimes.”
“Listen to me: Grace is my daughter, not yours.” Zoey is conflicted. This is the tone of a woman who knows she doesn’t have the upper hand.
“Jackie, you know you’re not supposed to be here.” She is calm on the outside.
“Stop talking to my daughter, Zoey. Why is that so fucking hard for you to understand?” Zoey picks up the phone that sits on what used to be Jackie’s desk. It’s weird. She fights her discomfort and dials. “Are you calling security on me? Un-fucking-believable! After all I’ve done for you?”
“Hello Gloria?” Zoey speaks quietly.
“Akalitus? Even better! Look at her, ladies and gentlemen, a consummate fucking proffessional you’ve got here.”
Akalitus leaves her office—the click of her heels precise and calculated.
"Jackie…” She tries to put her hand on Jackie’s shoulder, but is swatted away.
“I don’t need a fucking secret service escort out, Gloria. Thank you.” Jackie addresses Zoey again. “Do not contact Grace for any reason, do you hear me?”
Zoey is a good person. She resists the urge to lay down every ferocious critique that crosses her mind while Jackie refuses to break eye contact with her. Luckily Akalitus is able to step in.
“Jackie Peyton, if you don’t leave this hospital right now I will have to call the police. Zoey, the phone please.”
“Quit blowing things out of proportion Gloria, I’m fucking leaving.” Jackie huffs. The doors close behind her, and the dust begins to settle. Gloria puts her hand on Zoey’s shoulder instead.
“Do you need a minute?” Zoey wants to find the strength to say no. To be professional. To pick up and move on. She can’t.
“Yes.”
As she sits in the bathroom, it occurs to her that this is the spot where Jackie would run away to snort oxys. It strikes her as odd, if only because the bathroom is usually filthy and Zoey can’t imagine putting anything remotely important into her body in the bathroom besides tampons. The longer she tries to understand Jackie’s motivations, the less sense they all make. She runs her fingers over the day’s clipped construction paper ring, washes her hands, and breathes deep. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for awhile, but things will be ok. They will be ok.
///
Grace comes over that afternoon as planned. Zoey doesn’t know what is appropriate to bring up, but she starts to believe in God again when Grace opens her mouth.
“My mom took my phone.”
“Does your dad know about this?”
“Oh my God, do you think he fucking cares?”
“How’s Fiona?”
Grace shrugs and they share an awkward silence. In the interim, Zoey cuts another band off her garland, telling herself she can make it. She debates cutting all the rings off the chain to see if it will make the days go faster; tapping the scissors on her lips with indecision.
“Do you have anything to drink?” Grace has been standing behind her, wondering.
"Warm or cold?” It is as though, for the time being, Grace is her purpose.
“I don’t care.”
“All I have right now is stale coffee and water.” Her voice quiets. “Maybe some Danimals if you look back in the fridge.”
Grace shoots her an amused glare. It’s somewhat of a comfort to her to know that not everyone has their lives together. She likes that Zoey doesn’t lie about it.
“Should we go get bubble tea? I think we should go get bubble tea.”
The decision is unanimous, and they sit across from each other bobbing straws up and down in their cups. Grace fishes for pearls. Zoey takes another sip.
“Are you going to be there?” Her straw drops as Grace puts her cup back on the table. “Like, in court?”
“Probably not unless they make me testify.” Subpoena is the word that’s been keeping her up at night. She wants nothing to do with this anymore, but Zoey knows the judicial system couldn’t give less of a shit if she was cleaning up the shards of her life. It feels as though she’s trying to piece them together with sticky-tac. Forever pliable, and unsightly.
“Will they?” This is a question she doesn’t know how to answer. The drugs had to come from somewhere, and if no one knows Zoey will be one of the first people they ask.
“They might. I don’t know.” It occurs to Zoey that she may have found the answer to her problems, but decides against bringing it up with present company.
“You know something fucked?” She does. They both do.
“What’s that?” Zoey is unsure of what Grace is about to say. Unsure if she should be worried.
“You’re the only person who listens to me. Everyone else treats me like I’m eight!”
This is a rough time for us all, we will get through it together. I will be here for you in your time of need, child. No wait—that sounds disgusting.
“That blows.” Zoey takes a breath. “Everything blows.”
“How many days until your boyfriend comes home?”
“...twenty.”
///
That night, she and Ike skype.
“I think I know what happened, and if anyone asks me I’m going to have to tell them.”
“How sure are you about your theory?”
“Pretty sure.” He holds up his hand, the ring she sent him is tattered, but looped around his wrist.
“Can you make it nineteen days?” She smiles.
“I think so.”
///
The next few days are not easy. Zoey remembers when O’Hara took her stethoscope, and the situation reminds her of that day. Each time she thinks she can break away for a moment and be a grownup, anxiety bubbles up her esophagus wiping hope clean away. She goes into the pharmacy four times pretending to dig around for things before she can bring herself to do it.
“What is it this time, Zoey?” Eddie has known something’s been up since she spent ten minutes looking for Aspirin on try number two.
“Nothing...I can’t find the—” She stops. Can you make it 19 days? She wishes Prentiss were here. He’d have no trouble laying down the law. He’d be kicking ass and taking names. She takes a moment to relish in the thought, drawing strength from the internal presence of her far-away beaux. “You gave Jackie all those pills didn’t you.”
“Come on Zoey.”
“Eddie, I can’t be dishonest if they call me to testify.”
“No one’s calling anyone to testify.”
“If you lie under oath it’s a felony.” She scowls. “I can’t be a felon!”
“Calm down! No one’s a felon, nothing’s wrong.”
“You can’t lie either. I’m not going to lie for you! You know I’m going to be the second person they ask.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Can I ask you something?” Zoey picks up a small container of ibuprofen and shakes it to calm her nerves. Eddie leans his elbows back on the desk.
“Sure.”
“You’re not hiding any other catastrophic life changing secrets, are you?”
“I’m a transvestite.” He laughs. Zoey is furious. “Kidding!”
Zoey’s confrontation makes one thing perfectly clear to him: he’s going to have to talk to Jackie. Soon.
///
The next day, she brings in the pile of crumpled paper rings and arranges them on the desk. First by color, then by rip, then again by day (as they were originally arranged in her apartment), and lastly length. Some had been mangled in the clipping process. Thor sneaks up behind her with gummy bears.
“It’s kind of pathetic how sickeningly cute you are.” He holds out the bag of sugary Haribos, offering her a handful. “You’re making me sad. Take these.”
“Thanks.” She opens them immediately, popping red and clear bears into her mouth together.
“Are you feeling better?” She nods. Things have been on the steady climb, and she just clipped ring fifteen off her wall. Only two more weeks.
“I think so.”
“Good.” She opens the bag of bears to her colleague, who obliges her offer happily. “I missed your bunny scrubs.”
Zoey smiles. She’d missed them too.
///
Some evening later Eddie is walking down the sidewalk trying to feel each groove and crack under his feet. He is a man who’s made mistakes. He knows he’s made mistakes. He also knows that the conversation he’s planning on having won’t absolve him of his sins. He just wants a clear conscience, that’s all.
Things were supposed to be good. She was going to be somewhere, high as a kite, and he would imagine that she thinks of him often. (Though he knew she wouldn’t.) Now, he continues a steady pace down the street. They will sit in a corner booth at some scuzzy diner in Queens and he’s going to have to pretend he doesn’t love her anymore. It’s stupid, but it’s necessary. She is the hurricane of his life, and he is happiest chasing storms.
He suppresses his knowledge that they’ve long been using each other. She only wants drugs, and he only wants human connection. Eddie gets his wish when he sees her waiting outside. He knows they will barely make it through a cup of coffee, let alone a slice of pie. He has not been looking forward to this conversation, but he has been looking forward to seeing her. Jackie needs pills. Eddie needs Jackie. Each hurling towards their own disastrous collision.
He suggests they sit in a secluded booth, fighting regret as he guides them by placing his hand on her lower back. He shouldn’t—he doesn’t get to do that anymore. They sit in distended quiet after ordering coffee. Eddie knows he needs to man-up and say what he needs to say. Even though it’s black, he spoons a tornado in his chipped mug; every effort to subdue his apprehension is futile. He coughs.
“Zoey knows what happened.”
“What the fuck Eddie? Did you fucking tell her?”
“No.”
“Zoey’s already trying to turn my kids against me, now this?”
Eddie is quiet. He takes a sip of coffee, avoiding eye contact. His gulp of tepid java is the noisiest interaction they’ve had all evening.
“I can’t lie for you anymore Jackie.”
“Oh, oh yes. That’s cute. That’s why you brought me here? To tell me that?” Jackie flags down a waitress. “Hello, hi. Can we get our check?”
“If they call me up on the stand I’m not going to fucking perjure myself.”
“Jesus Christ Eddie, no one asked you to.” Jackie fishes though her pockets for change.
“Haven’t you ruined enough lives already? Everyone at your job, your kids, your husband—”
“EX-husband.”
“Jackie, Zoey figured this out. Not Einstein, Zoey. It won’t take a genius to put together what happened.”
“No one shackled you to me Eddie!” She wants to get up and leave, but can’t. It isn’t as though she wants to know where this is going to go, she knows where it’s going. This may be the last time they see each other, she thinks. It is buried deep inside her, but she knows she will miss him.
“Well maybe you were just a good fuck.” Eddie leans back in the booth. Arms outstretched. Trying to feign cocky. “I’m done. I’ve helped you out before, but I’m done.”
He throws two dollars on the table, and gets up.
“Oh, you want to make yourself an accessory? I will tell them everything. Every-fucking-thing from start to finish and we’ll see who gets a longer sentence!”
Eddie has heard this voice before. It is the voice of a woman who knows she has no ground to stand on. He has not however, heard it from Jackie. This makes him sad. His heart deflates with each step closer to the door. He loses track of the grooves in the sidewalk, and wonders which way he’ll take to get home.
///
That same evening, Zoey receives a letter from Prentiss. He is excited to come home, he says, and maybe raise some hell at the hospital. She knows his definition of “raise hell” would be stopping into work for five minutes to critique everyone’s poor performance, and maybe make Coop nervous enough for a boob grab.
She likes that he’s sent her some candy. She’s not sure about the flavor, and can’t read the Dari packaging to see what it is, but she’s happy he’d been thinking of her. He writes about helping children in small villages with things from the sniffles, to dismembered limbs; and her heart is warm. She imagines how great he is with the children, making them calm, helping them to get better, to feel cared for.
She’s made it to the last line of rings on her paper chain. She has to wait ten more days. Only ten.
Zoey brings Eddie gumdrops and yogurt-covered pretzels as a peace offering. She also throws in the last piece of Afghani candy from Prentiss, but won’t tell either of them that she doesn’t care for it that much.
“Can I help you, Zoey?” She bows her head.
“I feel bad.” She hands over her container of treats. “Here.”
She starts to walk out of the pharmacy, still feeling shameful; and not sure why. Eddie stops her.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “you were right.”
“Can I ask you a question?” She turns around. He opens the package, takes a pretzel, and offers one to her—she accepts.
“Sure.” Eddie pops the pretzel into his mouth. Though everything is in shambles, Zoey’s gesture warms him.
“Why is everything awful?” They both want her to be facetious. To be joking. The answer’s obvious, right? At that point they finally arrive at the conclusion: though prickly, Jackie embodied the stitches that kept everyone together. Without her, they are scrap fabric. Eddie sighs.
“Take some with you.” He shakes the gumdrops to the top. “For later.”
“Thanks.”
Eddie eats another pretzel. He hopes they don’t end up in court, but if they do; they’ll be ok.
///
Zoey spends her next few days struggling to appear like she’s not going through the motions at work. The buzzword being struggling. Sometimes she’ll rub the empty space next to her in bed before falling asleep. Sometimes she’ll chew two pieces of gum at once. Sometimes she’ll be so invested in a tabloid crossword at triage that she’ll forget to send patients back. Jackie never let stuff get to her, but Jackie’s not there anymore. Zoey can’t remember which director won an academy award for the movie Good Will Hunting, the hours go by like separate eternities blurring together into one confusing nebula. Maybe she will splurge and get a pedicure. Maybe it’s weird that she hasn’t had to deal with any criticals through her shift and that Gloria hasn’t made her switch places with the new girl. Maybe two sticks of gum is excessive because they still lose their flavor all too quickly, and then she just has less gum. Maybe if she started her period at work she’d think about getting scrubs with darker bottoms just in case.
Soon she is down to three days. So far, no one’s been subpoenaed; Grace is still passing all of her classes; no one is irreparably mad at her; and things are starting to feel ok. Jackie hasn’t been able to see the schedule, and the few times she’s been back to get pills, or rage about one thing or the other; Zoey hasn’t been there. Thor fills her in when she returns, usually. Akalitus has instructed them to have someone phone security if they see her around the vicinity. Zoey decides they should have a code word to let each other know, and they settle on banana bread. She’s grateful she never has to use those words at work.
“She came in looking for Eddie the other day.” Thor says.
“Really?” Zoey spins around in her chair.
“It was not pretty.”
“You’d think she’d stop coming back…” Zoey tries to stop wasting energy trying to make sense of things. Sometimes she can’t help it.
“Who knows,” Thor muses, “maybe she’s addicted to us now.”
She wants it to not be funny, but it is—a little.
“When’s your boo coming home again?” Thor stands, putting his hands on her shoulder.
“Thursday.”
“So soon!”
They are pulled away by a GSW. She is thankful for the distraction.
///
Grace comes over in a flurry the next day.
“I need you to take these from me.” She digs through her purse, pulling out a sandwich baggy full of white powder and crumbles of this or that.
“Wait, what is this?” Zoey holds the bag, inspecting it.
“Some crushed pills, I don’t know.”
“Did your mom give you these?”
“No. I haven’t fucking talked to her since she took my phone. My dad can’t find out about this or he’ll totally fucking rage.”
“Where did you get these?”
“Does it fucking matter? Just take them back to the hospital or something I don’t care.”
“Did you take any?”
“No!”
This is the not fun part of being the ‘adult you trust.’ Zoey is taking drugs from the daughter of her friend who’ll potentially go to jail for taking drugs.
“I’m not her. Fuck.” Grace bubbles up, tears prickling her cheeks. “I’m not her!”
Zoey wraps her arms around Grace’s shoulders and combs her fingers through Grace’s hair. It occurs to her that even after the trial, (if there is a trial) these things will get better, but they won’t end. They won’t ever end.
///
Thursday arrives and she’s put on her Sunday best to take the subway out to the airport. She splurged the day before on some cute lipstick, and spends an hour making her eyeliner look just so. All of the paper circles are in her trash, and she can hardly contain her excitement. She’s also made him a sign. It reads: I LIKE IKE. It is adorned with Hello Kitty stickers. Each stop she gets closer to seeing him. Each breath, closer to kissing him. She resists the urge to run up all the stairs from the subway to the airport.
As she waits for the plane to deboard, she realizes she’s never been behind security at the international terminal in JFK. She wonders if it’s much different from the other terminals, but the thoughts can’t take up all the space in her brain. She tries to distract herself from the agony of minutes. She is unsuccessful. She tries to play the coming home or leaving home game with everyone she sees, her pinky hanging out of her lips nervously.
Then she sees something that intrigues her: Diabetic Dave picking up trash. No one at the hospital thought he had a job, but here he is—cleaning up the airport. She stares in amazement, wondering if she’s dreaming; wishing she hadn’t thrown away Thor’s pizza.
Prentiss takes her by surprise.
“Hey.” She turns around, jumping into his arms immediately and dropping her sign.
“I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.” He puts her down, and she picks up her sign.
“I made you this.” She hands it to him, and he chuckles.
“I like Ike.” He inspects the stickers. “Well, Ike likes Zoey.”
She smiles, and it suddenly flows out of her. Everything that’s been on her plate, the wall of paper rings, crushed pill dust remnants in her toilet, stale coffee, and multiple sticks of gum. Finally she gets to see him. Finally they are together. She holds onto his waist.
“The only good thing is that you’re home.”
“I know,” he says, “I know.”
///
They spend the subway ride back to Zoey’s apartment tangled together. Prentiss doesn’t feel like talking about the people he’d bandaged up in the last few days, Zoey doesn’t want to talk about Grace sleeping on her futon sometimes. So they are quiet. They hold hands. She wonders if he’d agree to never get off the subway and just sit with her forever. Or maybe until they reach Times Square in the middle of the night and inevitably see some tourist projectile vomit on the train platform.
Finally they get off at her apartment.
"You know what sounds really good right now?" Prentiss ruminates, Zoey shakes her head. "Pancakes."
"Aww, I love pancakes." She smiles, then starts to do the running man. "Pancakes make me want to dance."
They duck into a diner near her home, and tomorrow they will go to a wedding.
Tomorrow they are going to a wedding.