Page 2 of Roommating

Marcia points at me with what I’ve come to recognize over the last seven months as mock annoyance. “They’re probably spares, she said.Ikea is generous that way, she said.”

“Fine. You win! They’re not spares, and Ikea is the worst.”

We burst into laughter.

Rocket barks, a piece of paper dropping from his mouth with wet and mutilated cartoon images of the Ikea instructions man pointing unhelpfully at black arrows and slabs of wood.

Since we’ve long passed our threshold for playing carpenter, we decide to shelve (pun intended) the project to revisit at an undetermined time in the future. An hour later, we’re at the white circular table in our small dine-in kitchen sharing an extra-cheese pizza.

I take a bite of my second slice. “Is it me or does pizza taste better after hours of grueling labornotbuilding a bookshelf?”

“Mm-hmm.” Marcia dabs at her mostly uneaten first slice with a napkin, letting it soak up the grease.

“Is everything all right?” I ask.

She’s been uncharacteristically quiet since putting in the order with Unregular Pizza using the Slice app I downloaded on her phone.

“Yes. I’m sorry. Just… thinking. But I’m glad you like the pizza. Brenda from the gym recommended the place.” She cuts into a slice using her knife and fork and takes a bite, looking a bit like a child forced to eat his broccoli.

“Are you upset about the furniture? I might have oversold my skills. We should have paid someone in the building to do it.” Rocketbrushes against my leg under the table wanting food. I gently push him away.

She lowers her fork to her plate, the metal causing a clinking sound as it hits the ceramic. “I actually know someone who might be able to help us. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him.”

Him?Since I’ve lived here, I don’t think a single man has gotten beyond the threshold of our apartment. After letting boys and partying affect my schoolwork when I first moved to the city, dating has now taken a back seat to pursuing my dream of becoming a librarian… like so far back, it’s in another car. But Marcia’s husband died ten years ago, and since she’s retired from teaching, she has plenty of time on her hands. Maybe she’s ready to date. “Tell me more abouthim!” I lean forward on my elbows.

“It’s Adam.”

My eyes widen while my arms drop to my sides. “Adam as in your grandson, Adam?” I don’t know much about him except that her son kept them apart for the last decade. There are several pictures of Adam in the living room and her bedroom, including from his bar mitzvah more than ten years ago, but nothing more recent. “What did he want?”

“He’s going through a tough time professionally. He just got laid off from his last position.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Marcia must catch the note of sarcasm in my voice because she levels her eyes at me. “He apologized for letting his father come between us and insisted he does not share his views. He wants us to have a relationship.”

“Well, that’s great!” As if it weren’t hard enough for Marcia to come out to her friends and family as bisexual in her sixties, her ownson couldn’t handle it and basically ejected her from his life, further punishing her by removing access to Adam.

She smiles timidly. “Rather than jumping right into yet another job, he’s decided to take a short break to figure out what he really wants to do next. Since graduating from UPenn, he’s been through several jobs trying to find the right fit. His father and stepmother refuse to pay for his ‘vacation from life,’ so I’m thinking about inviting him to stay with me for a little while. With us.” She clarifies, “On the couch. If it’s okay with you.”

My mouth falls open, but I quickly snap it shut. Marcia’s still speaking, and I want to hear her out.

“I hate to put you in an awkward position, but I’ll make sure he stays out of your way. And it’s not forever. It’s just… I don’t know him very well. My own grandson.” Marcia’s features collectively droop in barefaced sadness.

My heart splinters a little. “It’s fine! This is your apartment. You can invite anyone you want to stay over.” I mean every word, though I’m sure I’ll have more feelings on the matter once I have time to digest it.

Rocket lets out three barks as if expressing his agreement. Then again, Rocket is almost always barking unless he’s asleep or having his belly or ears rubbed. “Seriously. This seems like a great opportunity for you two to bond. I’m all for it,” I say. I can’t really blame Adam for allowing his father to keep him from Marcia when he was a boy. And I fully support him making up for lost time as a man.

Marcia blows out a breath of relief. “Thank you!”

I watch as she grabs her slice of pizza with both hands and bites into it with gusto. Thrilled to see her spirits back up, my mind wanders to my own late grandma, Nana Lena. We spent every day together for most of my life, and although we were close when I wassuper little… well, let’s just say teenage Sabrina wouldn’t win any granddaughter-of-the-year awards. I regret wasting so many opportunities to bond with her now that she’s gone. I regret a lot when it comes to her. Even though I’ve never met Adam, I don’t want him to have those same regrets with Marcia.

After dinner, Marcia goes to her room to call Adam, and when she returns, she’s beaming. He’s accepted her offer to move in temporarily and will be here on Wednesday. She retires for the night, and I stay in the living room to watch an episode ofSelling Sunset. It occurs to me that once Adam moves in, I might have to watch all my shows on my laptop since the couch out here will now be his bed.

I toss the gray chunky-knit throw blanket off my lap and walk over to the leaning white ladder shelf set against the opposite wall. It’s decorated with plants, glass figurines and other tchotchkes, and picture frames, including one of a teenage Adam in a navy-blue suit, powder-blue yarmulke over his brown hair and white prayer shawl draped across his narrow shoulders. The poor kid’s got metal braces and a serious T-zone situation going on, but his light blue eyes pop against his outfit. He shares that feature with his grandma. The first time I saw it, I told Marcia he was adorable. In truth, he was about as adorable as the cast ofStranger Thingsafter the first season, but I expect he’s probably grown out of his awkward stage by now.

I return to the couch and search for “Adam Haber” on Instagram, scrolling through the results until I find what I guess is the right one. On his feed are some photos of the Philadelphia skyline, a few lake and hiking pics, a beer bottle against a setting sun, but none of him. He’s in a few tagged photos, but they’re either profile shots, taken from behind, or his face is hidden by sunglasses. I close out of Instagram assuming I’ll find out soon enough.

While washing my face and brushing my teeth before bed, Itidy up the vanity to make room for Adam’s stuff. I’m thrilled for Marcia to bond with her grandson, and if greatness runs in the family, maybe we’ll become friends, but there’s also a slight pinch of anxiety in my gut. Besides losing access to the couch and flat screen and sharing a bathroom with a dude, my dynamic with Marcia is bound to change. Will she have as much time for me now that her estranged grandson is back in her life? But I push aside these selfish thoughts. I’ve had Marcia to myself for almost seven months, but she’s not my grandmother. I won’t stand in the way of Adam bonding with his.

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