Page 45 of Run, Run, Roommates
I put the wreath back, and then sit down and talk to my brother. I tell him all about my life in the past year. About William, and Bea, and mostly Brin. I talk about Brin so much, if there is an afterlife my brother is looking down on me and saying, “Jesus, man, I get it, you love her.”
On the trip back to Manhattan, I text Drew.
Marco
I went to Joe’s grave today and saw the wreath you left. Thank you for doing that.
I get a text back immediately.
Drew
MARCO OMG HI
How are you?
I think of you so much at Christmas time. And Joe, of course.
Me
I think of him a lot too.
We text updates about our lives—Drew sends me a picture of him and his boyfriend and their dog—and then he invites me to his house for dinner tonight. I hesitate for a moment, but then Drew sends me three more texts.
Drew
Just bring yourself. It’s totally casual.
Do you remember that year Joe went tinsel crazy? It was gold strands EVERYWHERE and we found them for months and months afterward.
I’m so glad you reached out. I hope there’s a shiny thing in your life somewhere that’s Joe’s style.
That makes me smile, especially from his use of the word shiny. Not only does it make me think of the scavenger hunt, but it’s the perfect word to describe Brin. I also think about the decorations up in William’s penthouse. Joe would have loved them. Just like Brin did.
I text Drew back that I’ll be there, and ask if I can bring a friend. He says yes. Then I gaze out the window of the train.
Since Joe’s death, I hadn’t wanted to decorate for Christmas, especially not with a tree. His death was too raw. But now, after this holiday scavenger hunt and Brin’s unbridled enthusiasm, maybe I’m ready for some of it in my life again.
And I know where I can steal some Christmas magic.
24
Brin
The chain is on our door. The chain is never on our door. We live in a safe building with a nice little community feel—unlike some of my apartments in the past.
“Brin?” Marco’s voice calls from inside. My stomach does a flip of excitement at hearing his voice after everything we’ve been through the past few days.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I reply. Marco was gone when I woke up this morning, and hadn’t returned by the time I’d left for babysitting. I worried about him, going out to Long Island by himself. I hope it was cathartic for him.
But right now, I think all the sex in the past two days wore me out. And Noah was hyped up on Christmas excitement, and for someone who didn’t work her regular job yesterday or today, I am exhausted.
“Hang on, I’ll get the chain.”
I close the door and Marco removes the security chain. Then the door swings open and . . .
“Oh. My. God.”
Our apartment sparkles. I recognize the decorations as having come from Billy Bob’s apartment, and I can’t believe Marco took them. There’s real evergreen boughs draped over the windows in the living room, and a wreath with ribbon and pearly strands sits on the coffee table AND OH MY GOD THERE’S A CHRISTMAS TREE.
