My radiator's been ticking all morning and doing absolutely nothing else, so I've got three sweaters on like an idiot. Anyway — I was gonna go down to the market later, guy on the corner by Petrov's has bootleg shirts, ten euro, decent stitching actually for once. Was gonna grab one for Danny's birthday.
...actually never mind, forget the shirt thing. How's your hand, still bothering you?
Three sweaters? You look like a confused marshmallow. And don't think I forgot about the shirt plan. You're just changing the subject because you're cold and grumpy. My hand is fine, stop asking. It's just a stiffness, not a tragedy. I had to scrub dishes at that diner again yesterday, water's freezing, fingers go numb in minutes. But you... you were serious about the bootleg shirts. The stitching? Please. You know how much you hate spending money. You were actually gonna buy something nice for Danny. Don't act like you forgot. It was a good idea. Don't drop it.
Fine, fine — it's a good idea, I didn't forget. It's the ten-euro one with the little embroidered pocket logo, fake obviously but it looks close enough. I just — the guy packs up around four so we'd have to go before that if you want to come.
Stop scrubbing with cold water, that's how you wreck your hands permanently, you know that. Wear the rubber gloves even if they make you look ridiculous. I'm not being dramatic, I just — don't like thinking about your fingers going numb over dirty plates for four euros an hour.
Oh, stop with the rubber gloves lecture. I look ridiculous in them anyway, and besides, the boss won't pay for new ones if I break the old pair. Four euros an hour is all I get, so numb fingers come with the territory. You're being dramatic again. But the shirt... okay, fine. The embroidered pocket logo one. I remember. You always do that, acting like you're saving me from myself while you're the one freezing in three sweaters. So we go before four? If the guy is actually selling anything real and not just junk from the back of a van. And don't think I didn't hear you calling me out for working too hard. You're just as stubborn as I am.
It's not junk, it's junk with good stitching, there's a difference. Before four then — I'll meet you by Petrov's, the bench with the busted slat, you know the one.
And I wasn't calling you out, I was — look, forget it. Yeah I'm stubborn, you're stubborner, we've had this argument since the Marchetti thing and neither of us won it then either.
Bring your gloves anyway. Not the rubber ones. The wool ones with the hole in the thumb, at least those don't make your hands sweat and then freeze worse after.
The Marchetti thing? We never had an argument about that, we just stopped talking and you sulked for a week. And don't think I'm bringing the wool ones with the hole in the thumb. That's a hole, Tess, not a style choice. You know I can't afford new ones yet. But fine, I'll wear them if it means we can actually get that shirt before you decide the stitching isn't good enough. Just meet me at the bench. If that guy's not there, we're grabbing a hot coffee instead of freezing our noses off. And don't look at me like that, you started this whole thing by mentioning the market in the first place.
I did not sulk, I was busy, there's a difference — you always do this, rewrite it so I'm the dramatic one. Fine, whatever, it's ancient history.
Bench, four o'clock, wool gloves with the hole, coffee as backup plan. Deal. If it's the burnt coffee from that cart though I'm not drinking it, tastes like they scraped the pot.
Bring exact change too, the guy hates breaking twenties, made a whole thing about it last time with some old woman buying scarves. Ten euro, that's it, don't let him talk you into the "limited edition" ones, there's no such thing as limited edition bootleg anything.
Burnt coffee is better than freezing, but fine, I'll try to find a different pot. And I'm not rewriting history, you were the one who didn't speak to me for three days after the rent situation. Anyway, ten euros exactly. I know how he operates, he tries to upsell you on "limited editions" made in the same factory. You're right, it's all the same. Just don't start haggling if he tries to charge extra for the embroidery. And don't act like you're doing me a favor by reminding me about exact change; I have change. I'm not an idiot, even if my hands are numb. See you at the bench. Don't be late, or I'm going without you.
Wasn't three days, it was one, maybe two — and that was a whole different thing, don't lump it in with Marchetti, you're building a case file over here.
I'm not calling you an idiot, I'm calling you someone who once tried to pay a guy in coins for a nine euro thing and held up the whole line. That's a fact, not an insult.
Bench, four, I'll be there early even. Wear a coat under the coat if you have to. See you.
One day? Don't pull that. It felt like a week, and you know it. And that coin incident was a fluke! The wallet was zipped shut. Anyway, I won't wear a coat under the coat, I'll look like a stuffed duck. Just get to the bench before four. And if you try to argue about the price again, I'm leaving you there with the bootleg shirts. See you. Don't make me wait in the cold.
A stuffed duck who isn't shivering, sounds like a good trade to me. Fine — bench, before four, no arguing about price, I'll behave.
Go on then, get your coat, whichever number of them you decide on. See you in a bit.
Stuffed duck? You're impossible. I'm not shivering, I'm just... conserving heat. Whatever. And I decided on two coats, thank you very much. Less of a duck than three. Stop lecturing me before I even leave the apartment. Just be there. If you're not, I'm drinking that burnt coffee and eating the shirt myself. Don't test me on this.
Two coats, reasonable. Eating the shirt though, that's a threat I actually believe from you.
I'll be there. Go on, get moving before the cold gets worse and neither of us wants to leave the house at all.
Wise. The cold is already digging in, and I'm not waiting around for you to change your mind. Two coats it is. And yeah, I might just eat the shirt if you're late. Don't make me do that, Tess. I'll see you at the bench. Try not to get lost on the way.
I've never once gotten lost going to that bench, that was a different time, a different bench, a different — never mind. Go. Bench. Four. I'll be the one not eating a shirt.
Different bench? Don't start with that again. It's the same one with the busted slat, you're just trying to confuse me because you're cold. Fine, you won't be eating a shirt. I hope you're not planning to steal it with me, since you're so worried about my spending habits. Just be there. And don't pretend you remember every detail of that day; you were too busy complaining about the weather to notice which way the bench faced. See you.
It faces the fountain, it's always faced the fountain, I don't need to "remember" a fact that hasn't changed since the thing was installed.
Go. I'm freezing just standing here typing — talking — whatever. See you at four, don't eat anything.
It faced the fountain? Since when? You're making things up again to win an argument you started five minutes ago. The bench doesn't face the fountain, it faces the alley where that guy sells his junk. You're just freezing and trying to sound smart about a bench that's probably been moved twice. Fine, I won't eat anything. Unless you're late, then all bets are off. Go get your coat and stop typing nonsense. Four o'clock. Don't be the reason I freeze my toes off.
Fine, alley, fountain, whatever it faces, I'll see it with my own eyes in twenty minutes and win this properly. Go get your coats, the plural ones, and stop stalling.
Four o'clock. I mean it this time. Go.
You're obsessed with winning a bench argument that nobody else cares about. It's the alley, Tess, not the fountain. The fountain's a block over where the pigeons gather. But fine, you win this round. I'm putting on the coats and going. Just meet me there before the sun goes down and the guy packs up. And stop saying "I mean it this time" like we've had multiple four o'clocks today. We haven't. Just show up.
Pigeons gather two blocks over now actually, they moved after they redid the pavement — no, forget it, I'm not doing this again. Alley. Four. Showing up. Go put your coats on before you talk me into a third argument about geography.
Pavement redo? Since when? The cobblestones are still there. You're just making stuff up because you're bored. Fine, fine, alley, four, showing up. I'm going. Stop correcting me on pigeons and pavement, it's getting ridiculous. Just meet me there. And don't you dare be late or I'm actually eating the shirt. Go.
Cobblestones, fine, you win, whatever gets you out the door faster. Going. Four o'clock. Not one more word about pigeons, I promise.
Good. Finally. And don't think you're off the hook for the pigeon nonsense; I'm noting that down for later when we're arguing about something else. Just get to the bench. And wear a scarf this time, not just three sweaters. I'm not saving you from yourself again. See you.
Scarf, noted. Going now. See you at the bench — for real this time, no more geography, no more anything. Just be careful crossing by the tram tracks, they're slick when it's like this.
Finally, you admit the tram tracks are slick? Took you long enough. I've known that since I nearly fell last winter, remember? You were the one laughing at me while I tried to brush the slush off my boots. So now you're warning me. Right. Just get moving. If I slip, I'm dragging you down with me. And no more geography talk, I'm done. See you at the bench.
I remember. You went down like a sack of flour and blamed the boots for a week. Fine, deal — you slip, we both go down, very dramatic, very us.
Going now. Watch your step anyway. See you at the bench.
Sack of flour? I'll have you know I landed with style. But fine, deal. Just get there before the tram leaves the tracks for good. And don't think I forgot about the boots; they're still blaming themselves. See you at the bench. Don't make me wait.
"With style" is generous but I'll let it go. Going. Not waiting long, promise. See you in a bit.
Generous? It was an art form. Fine, I'll let that go too. Just get moving before the cold settles in my bones for good. I'm watching the clock, Tess. Don't make me count to ten again. See you there.