Banana Pudding

Mav, I left coffee on the counter for you. 

I have classes until 20:00 today. 

See you later, Os

Maverick woke up that day on Osmond's living room couch. The funny thing about NYU dorms is that they looked like actual apartments, and the punchline was that Osmond’s apartment/dorm was bigger than the shit hole he shared with his roommate Tanner. Maverick wasn’t a stranger to waking up on Osmond's couch. To open his eyes during the morning and see how the sunshine would illuminate the ghastly beige color that adorned the ceiling. His gray-blue eyes traveled around the small living room. He saw that his electric blue winter jacket that was once on the tile floor was hanging neatly on the back of one of the dining table chairs. He looked to his right to be met with the steel coffee pot that was resting on top of the stove in the way-too-small kitchen.

         Maverick sat up, his bare feet touching the ice-cold tile floor to stretch and let a big yawn out. He stood up and walked slowly towards the coffee. The dark smell of Bustelo invading his nose as the rich brown liquid spilled into his favorite mug. Osmond had bought it just for Maverick, so he could have something to call his own at the apartment. Maverick smiled at the mug; Osmond is always so thoughtful. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.

         “Hey man, what’s up?” Maverick’s voice was heavy with sleep.

         “Did you just wake up? It's 5:00 pm dude, Raquel and I are downstairs. Open up so we can set up the surprise. It's brick out here!” Adrian said through the phone, the loud noises of the city filtering through the speaker.

         “Shit, I slept in. Okay sure, I’ll let you all in through the fire escape. Os is obviously not here to sign you in so we have to avoid the guard,” Maverick said. The other funny thing about NYU dorms was that they were a fucking prison. There was always an armed guard behind a desk at every door, and the only way to come in as a visitor was by leaving your ID with the guard and signing your name in.

“Chévere, see you in a bit,” Adrian said and hung up. 

Raquel and Adrian were Maverick and Osmond’s best friends. Raquel had dark tan skin with thick clean-cut eyebrows and long hair to her waist that would curl up over the summer and straighten out during the winter. She was from Barcelona, her thick Catalunya accent while speaking English was music to everyone’s ears, and Maverick was glad he had someone to speak Spanish with. Adrian, on the other hand, was Maverick’s childhood friend. He was Venezuelan as well, but his family moved to New York many years after Maverick’s. Adrian was short, and sickly pale. He would wear thick prescription glasses that barricaded his hazel eyes. They made a funny couple. Adrian would always joke about how Raquel had not only conquered his country, but his heart as well. 

         “Hola amor, how are you?” Raquel greeted him with two kisses on the cheek.

         “Raqui, all good!” 

         “So! We have balloons, confetti thingies, those ones that you twist and go pop, and we also made these banners to hang by the wall. I went all out in that Party City, Adrian me iba a matar!” Raquel said signaling to her neck being chopped with her hand. She was ready to get down to business when Adrian laughed and added that he was, in fact, not going to kill his girlfriend at Party City. He had more class than that.

         After a couple of hours Osmond’s apartment was all set. Raquel had put out some snack bags and placed them neatly by the dining table, Maverick had hung up the banners with “Happy Birthday Osmond” written on them in intricate letters, and Adrian had cleaned the bathroom and living room area like the neat freak he was. Osmond’s birthday was a big deal for everyone. Unlike Maverick, Osmond was keen on celebrating his birthdays. He was raised in countryside England with almost no friends, so his family would go all out to make him feel loved and cherished. Maverick was taking this whole ordeal very seriously but they realized they had forgotten the most important part.

         “The banana pudding!” Maverick exclaimed. “I completely forgot to look for Osmond’s banana pudding! He only likes the ones they sell at Magnolia, thank God there is one in the West Village.”

         “Wait, isn’t that closed for renovations?” Adrien asked.

         “Go to the one in Rockefeller! It’s right across from Radio City,” Raquel said, trying to make things better, but Rockefeller was about 37 blocks north of Osmond’s dorm. Plus, having to be in the subway for 20 minutes during the winter sounded like torture. But hey, anything for Os.

…

         Maverick had moved to New York City from Venezuela when he was 15 years old. And even though it had been five years, he still couldn’t get used to the dry winter in the city.  He had been excited as a teenager to finally see snow, but now he had started to dread it. Romanticizing New York in the winter was for rich people. People who didn’t have to walk over the icy puddles of melted snow mixed with trash water that would somehow always infiltrate your shoes. Maverick had never gotten used to winter.

Because of the tall buildings surrounding the street, the cold wind would get trapped between the endless streets and avenues, making the day colder than it should be. As he walked outside the NYU dorms, a gust of wind hit him straight in the face, making his nose hurt and the regret of not wearing a beanie settle in. He was on his way to Union Square, on 14th street, to take the yellow line to 50th street. That meant walking four blocks to reach the station while freezing his ass off. Would running for four blocks be a bad idea? he thought. He took his chances and ran through the endless sea of dull winter colors ranging from black and gray to the exciting navy blues and burgundies. His once white sneakers stomp on the grimy sidewalks, and the way his arms and torso rubbed together made his winter jacket hiss.

         Maverick reached the station with a record time of three minutes, a walk that would normally take him seven. He was a man on a mission. Union Square train station was underneath Union Square Park, a small green area in the middle of the concrete jungle that was famous, not only for having one of the main subway stations, but for its farmer’s markets. During summer, cool jewelry made with copper and crystals glimmered. Fresh vegetables and homemade bread deliciously displayed by different vendors. During winter, stands filled with stupidly expensive but beautiful knickknacks that would entice the shoppers. The heavy and overly sweet smell of waffles and hot chocolate drowning the crowd. But he couldn’t stop and stare at all the tempting things. He had to get to Magnolia. 

         Maverick made a beeline to the entrance of the station. He tried to fish for the Metrocard inside the pocket of his light denim jeans while galloping down the stairs, but when he reached the turnstiles area he realized that he had left it at Osmond’s. Just like his entire wallet. Which meant he didn’t have any way to pay for a new card. He looked up at the screen where the trains and their times were announced in small letters, and realized that the next train in the yellow line would reach the station in six minutes. And because of the delays, the next train would arrive in 20 minutes. Fuck, he couldn’t go back. That would make him run late.

         “Well, jumping it is,” Maverick muttered under his breath. He looked to his right where the people were coming out of the station, and then he took a look to his left where the cops were inside a small booth, on the lookout to stop people, like Maverick, from jumping over the turnstile and getting on the train fare-free. Maverick had never jumped the turnstile, he had friends that did it constantly like Raquel, but he was too much of a goody-two-shoes to do it. However sometimes, when duty calls, you have to make out-of-character decisions to get what you want. And Maverick really wanted to get that banana pudding for his best friend’s surprise birthday party. 

         Maverick walked at a normal pace to the turnstile, not too slow to annoy the local New Yorkers, but not too fast to draw attention to himself. He planted his rough big hands on top of the cold metal and propelled his legs up. He jumped smoothly and smiled at his mischief. 

         “Hey! Stop right there!” a booming voice said from behind him. He turned quickly and made eye contact with one of the policemen. She had a stern look on her face. Her dark eyebrows furrowed together in anger and the long box-braids that dangled from her high ponytail swung from side to side as she ran towards the emergency door on the side to enter the inner part of the station. Maverick’s eyes widened in fear, and he started running backwards. Oh shit, what have I done!?

         He was exhausted already because of the jog from the dorms to Union Square. He didn't have a moment to catch his breath when he started to sprint in the direction of the yellow line trains. The cop was hot on his heels, yelling for him to stop and that he would be detained for escaping an officer, but Maverick was a man on a mission. He squeezed between bodies that were walking in all different directions, some of them looking his way in shock, others with no care in the world, and others yelling encouraging words at him. With a chain of apologies, he tripped bodies and bumped into shoulders until he reached the platform.

         “I am sorry ma’am, it’s an emergency!” Maverick yelled.

         “Stop running, kid!”

         Maverick ran until he reached the middle of the platform. The hot air trapped underground collided against the cold wind that the train dragged into the station. The deafening noise of metal crashing against the tracks sent a chill down Maverick’s spine and filled his chest with relief. He ran with all his might, as if he could race against the train and actually win. He tried to wait for the train to stop so he could get on right in time for the announcer to recite the “stand clear of the closing doors” lullaby.

         When it came to a full stop and the doors opened, Maverick passed two more cars until he jumped inside the last door by the conductor’s window, the doors closing right behind him.

         “I am so sorry, I really am,” he said loudly and turned his back on her quickly so he wouldn’t have to face the disgust mixed with anger that she was fuming with.

         So far, the day had been an unlucky one. Sleeping in late, forgetting the pudding, then his wallet, breaking the law, and now the full subway car, tight as a can of sardines. The thing about taking the subway during winter was that ACs would never work. The streets of New York would be coated by the chilly weather while the underground assimilated the underworld or better so, hell. Maverick had his winter jacket, his turtleneck sweater, and a white wife beater underneath. He was also wearing his thick jeans and chunky socks. And while he felt all cozy and warm when walking outside, he was sweating his ass off in that instance. The more time he spent in the train the more he was able to feel the sweat droplets accumulating under his hairline and racing down his neck until they could lie between his two back dimples. This torture went on for the next 20 minutes.

         When Maverick got to 50th street he raced straight to Magnolia at Rockefeller Center where the creamy and chewy banana pudding that Osmond would order after their weekly Five Guys visits for dessert could be found. The Warbly Parker in the corner reminded him that he had to get new glasses because his prescription had expired, and the record store in the corner begged to be entered and ransacked. But he couldn’t lose focus. Maverick opened the door and was greeted with a punch to the nose of sweet and tender smells, from the lavender of the cupcakes to the dough in the industrial ovens. The greeting of the worker was drowned by the welcoming bells and the people talking loudly in the cramped space.

         “Hello, welcome to Magnolia! How can I help you?” The girl behind the counter said. She had white-ish blonde hair cut into a bob and her cheeks were covered in a subtle flush.

         “Hi! Yes, do you have banana pudding?” Maverick asked as he patted his back pocket in search of his wallet. Ah yes, the wallet he forgot all the way in downtown. He was fucked.

         “Well lucky you! It is the last one of the day,” she said shyly as she served the pudding in the white paper-like container. Shyly. A wicked and asshole-like idea creeped in the back of Maverick’s pea sized brain.

         “Thank you so much…” Maverick looked down to the girl’s name tag and then made eye contact again, “Vivien. That’s a pretty name, it really does suit you,” he said with a friendly tone.

         “Oh, that is so sweet thank you so much,” Vivien answered, breaking eye contact and brushing her hair behind her ear. Bingo. She walked behind the counter towards the register that was at the far end of the shop, glancing to check if Maverick was following her from the customer’s side. Every time she would be met by his sweet smile and soft eye contact.

         “Okay, your total will be $7.41! Are you paying with card or cash?” 

Maverick made a show of patting his pockets. Starting with his pants and shooting a reassuring smile towards the cashier, then patting the outer pockets of his jacket and furrowing his eyebrows in worry, and then searching rapidly through the pockets inside the jacket in full on panic. Believable enough.

         “Oh fuck, this is so embarrassing. I think I lost my wallet. I am really sorry for wasting your time like that. Here!” Maverick fished for some quarters he felt in his pockets. “The least I could do is leave some tip for your time,” he smiled and nodded towards her as a goodbye. 3. 2. 1.

         “Don’t– Don’t worry about it! It’s on the house, you seemed very excited for it and that tip was a very nice thought,” Vivien said quickly, her pale face red as a tomato and her green eyes wide with hope.

         “Wow! Thank you so much but I shouldn’t.”

         “I insist!” 

         Maverick took the pudding with a last ‘thank you’ falling from his lips. He waved Viviane goodbye and excited the store. He punched the air after walking a couple steps away from the shop windows in victory.

…

         “Maverick where the fuck are you? Osmond is literally here, and he looks like a kicked puppy because you are not,” Adrian’s voice traveled like a rough whisper through the phone.

         “Relax, I am almost there. I am in the lobby,” Maverick said, the phone resting between his cheek and shoulder while smiling at the guard sitting behind the desk at the dorm’s lobby. The old man offered a smile back, used to seeing Maverick here almost every day, while double checking that his ID was still in the drawer from last night. The guard buzzed him in, and he ran across the hallway to reach the elevator. When he got in, he was struck by the anxious feeling of seeing Osmond. That weird jittery rush that flows through your veins in anticipation for something you look forward to. Maverick wanted everything to go according to the plan, but there he was, late for the surprise birthday party that he had planned for his best friend. Plus, forgetting the most important part, the pudding. It’s okay, you are here, and he is going to love you and forgive you for being an airhead, he thought.

         Maverick walked towards Osmond’s door. His best friend hadn’t taken down the Christmas decorations he had covered the door with. The warm yellow fairy lights around the doorframe were on and the glitter of the cardboard icicles “dripping” from the top would glimmer with the lights. There were also four pictures of different guys, each one with a candy cane border to fit the theme. The film picture of Osmond smiling widely, making his hazel eyes disappear and his brown hair messy with sleep while sitting criss-crossed on the floor in ridiculous Christmas pajamas, was staring at him. It looked magical and homey making Maverick calm down. Letting a heavy breath out, he raised his fist to knock on the door. It should be unlocked, like always, but he just wished to be greeted by Osmond.

         The voices inside remained at the same volume and the rustling of steps approaching the door only grew louder. Maverick could recognize who it was.

         “Mav!” Osmond said as soon as he opened the door, his smile just as wide as the photograph on his door. “You made it! I was wondering where you were.”

         “’You made it?’ I planned this whole thing! I just had to make a last-minute pit stop to get your banana pudding,” Maverick said with a chuckle. Osmond's smile softened. “From Magnolia?” He asked while grabbing the pudding with his bony hands.

         “Of course, your favorite,” Maverick answered.

         “Thank you, Mav,” Osmond said while taking the container out of the plastic bag. “Who is Vivien?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

         Maverick saw the cashier’s name followed by a phone number written in silver marker. “Look, a man has to do what he has to do, just take the pudding inside,” he said while gently pushing Osmond inside his dorm.

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