“So you told her about the yearbooks?”
“I had to. I thought it was the only way to show her I trusted her.”
“And that didn’t work?”
“Are you kidding? Now she has concrete proof I was hiding stuff.”
“And so now the one person we don’t trust not only knows about our newest plan but is also intensely mad at you?”
“That sums it up,” Ben said. “Not a bad day at work, huh? Tomorrow, I think I’m going to smash a few mirrors to see if things can possibly get worse.”
Ober walked through the door. “I have the single best idea for a new restaurant!” he announced. “Better than Tequila Mockingbird!”
“Looks like you don’t have to wait until tomorrow,” Nathan said.
“Here’s the idea,” he said, throwing his jacket on the dining room table. “It’ll be the world’s first non-Jewish delicatessen.” As his arms flailed through the air, he explained, “There are way too many Jewish delis, and they all serve the same thing. But there are millions of people who don’t want the typical pastrami and roast beef on rye. So I’m going to open ‘Christ, That’s a Good Sandwich,’ the world’s first non-Jewish deli. Every sandwich will be served on white bread, and everything comes with your choice of mayo or cheese. It’ll be a gold mine!” Rubbing his hands together, he said, “If you guys want, you can be initial investors.”
“Maybe you can get a cooperative crossover deal with Wonder Bread,” Nathan said.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Ober agreed. Noticing the sullen expression on Ben’s face, he asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Lisa found out that we were planning against Rick without her, and now she thinks we don’t trust her.”
“She’s right,” Ober said. “We don’t.”
“She also won’t speak to Ben anymore. She hates him and wishes he’d disappear.”
“Awwww, don’t let that get you down.” Ober sat next to Ben. “Lots of women hate me. It’s not that bad.”
“Why are you in such a good mood?” Ben asked, staring at his roommate. “I haven’t seen you this manic since you ate that whole bottle of Flintstone vitamins.”
“I’m just happy,” Ober said, putting his arm around Ben. “I have good friends, a good home, a good job-” Ober noticed the boxes that covered the small couch. “Are those the yearbooks?”
“Those’re them,” Nathan said. “The proverbial straws that broke Lisa’s back.”
“I really wouldn’t worry about her.” Ober turned back to Ben. “You guys are good friends. You’ll make up soon.”
“It’ll be fine,” Nathan agreed. “I mean, look at you and Eric. You guys are making improvements by leaps and bounds.”
An hour later, a large tomato and garlic pizza was delivered to the house. After everyone had grabbed a slice, the roommates turned their attention to the yearbooks scattered around the living room.
Dressed in gray sweatpants and a black-striped T-shirt, Ober sat with his feet up on the sofa. “I don’t even understand why we have to do this,” he moaned, staring at an old Stanford Law School yearbook. “I have no idea what Rick looks like. I’ve never seen him before.”
“Just keep flipping,” Ben said. “I told you what he looks like. He has a really thin head and permanent bags under his eyes.”
“That’s half the people in here,” Ober complained. “No offense, but lawyers aren’t the physical gems of society.”
“You’re looking because I need your help,” Ben said. “If you see someone that fits the description, highlight their name. That way, there’s less of a chance that I’ll overlook them when I go through it.”
“But you still have to look through them yourself,” Ober said.
“Just shut up and look,” Nathan said.
“These people are all starting to look the same,” Ober said two hours later. “Every class is the same: bald guy, ugly guy, ugly girl, bald guy, ugly girl, bald girl.”
“They’re certainly not a pretty bunch,” Nathan agreed.
“I think we should have a contest,” Ober said. “The person that finds the ugliest picture wins.”
“What do you win?” Ben asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Nathan said, sitting up on the couch. “I just won. Take a look at this freak.”
Passing the book to Ober, Nathan pointed to a picture of Ben from his days at Yale Law School. “Look at you,” Ober said. “What’d you comb your hair with that morning? A rake?”
“It definitely wasn’t my best hair day,” Ben admitted, looking at the picture.
“I’ll say,” Ober said. “It looks like you slept with a small box around your hair. It’s almost a perfect square.”
“We should try to find Lisa’s picture,” Nathan said, moving toward the Stanford pile. “She graduated the same year as you, didn’t she?” He flipped through the appropriate yearbook. “She’s not in here,” Nathan said after a minute. “She’s apparently camera shy.”
“Really?” Ben asked suspiciously.
“See for yourself,” Nathan said, handing Ben the yearbook. “She’s nowhere to be found.”
Ben scanned through the last names that started with S. Finding no picture, he flipped to the back of the photo section and saw Lisa’s name among the list of “Not Pictured” students. “Y’know what I was just thinking?” he finally asked. “What if…”
Before Ben could finish his thought, Eric opened the front door, stepped inside, and shook the snow from his hair. “It’s almost midnight,” Ober said, looking at his watch. “This is an early work night, even for you.”
“What’re you guys doing?” Eric asked, immediately noticing the yearbooks scattered around the room.
“If you don’t mind, this is private,” Ben said.
“Nice to see you, too,” Eric said to Ben. “By the way, I wanted to talk to you about your note.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ben said. “Just let me know what your decision is. I won’t fight you on it.”
“But what about-”
“I don’t want to discuss it now. So unless you have an answer, can you excuse us? I want to discuss something in private.”
“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Eric asked, scratching at the five o’clock shadow on his chin.
“No, I already told you what-”
“Ben, if you expect me to move out, the least you can do is spare half an hour. Now, can we please talk tomorrow?”
“Fine,” Ben acquiesced, grabbing a piece of pizza crust from his plate. “I’ll find you tomorrow.”
As Eric walked up the stairs, Nathan asked, “What was that about?”
“I left him a note that said I wanted his decision as soon as possible. If he doesn’t move out after New Year’s, I will. I just need to know so I can start looking for a place.”
“Ben, please don’t do this,” Ober pleaded. “You guys can work it out.”
“No, we can’t,” Ben said. “We’re way beyond working it out. I know the idea upsets you, but we can’t all be best friends for the rest of our lives.”
“Don’t say that,” Ober shot back angrily. “All you have to do is-”
“I don’t have to do anything. Whatever Eric decides, I’m abiding by. I really don’t care at this point.”
“You don’t care?” Ober asked. “How can you be so dense?”
“I’m dense?” Ben responded. “This is coming from the man who wants to open a non-Jewish deli, and who thinks Mussolini is a kind of pastry, and who thinks it’s a federal crime that the Air and Space Museum doesn’t sell bombpops! This is the person telling me I’m dense?”
Looking as if he had the wind knocked out of him, Ober was silent.
“What?” Ben asked.
Nathan turned to Ben. “Was that really necessar-”
“I’m not stupid,” Ober said, his voice shaking. “I may not be as great as Super Ben Addison, but I’m not a moron.”