27. Emerson
TWENTY-SEVEN
EMERSON
Bobo and I’ve gotten into a good routine in the three weeks since Bryce left for LA. Fortunately, if I leave my hearing aid on, I can usually hear Bobo a few seconds before I see him, so the apartment never feels that empty.
On a cool fall day, the first of my official tenured role, I walk into my department building with Bobo in tow and into the hallway with professors’ offices. It’s eerily quiet. As soon as I step into my now permanent office, my coworkers yell, “Surprise!”
Alarmed, Bobo emits a single loud bark. He’s popular with my officemates, and they all crowd around to pet him. I can’t help but wonder how much did my hiring hinge on my work, and how much hinged on getting to see Bobo regularly?
Will hands me a cupcake. A whole box of them sit on my desk. Professors and office staff gather around.
“Congratulations on joining the department,” Will says. “Permanently.”
“You’ve earned it.” Sheena peels the wrapper back on a cupcake. “We’re lucky to have you. ”
“I’m excited. It feels right being here.” I scan the room. “I’m honored to be a part of such a prestigious team.”
“So, where are you going to live?” Will asks.
“Any luck on extending the apartment?” Sheena adds.
“I’m planning to stay,” I say.
Bobo abandons the orgy of hands touching him and gallops over, smashing his head against my leg.
A warm feeling fills my chest at the thought of Bryce.
“It’s a great apartment,” I say. “I’m excited to keep living there, although it’s feeling kind of empty right now.”
“When does Bryce get back again?” Sheena asks.
“Three months.” I kneel down, and Bobo gives my beard a giant lick. “Well, technically two months and one week.”
“But who’s counting?” Sheena smiles and takes a bite of her treat.
It’s weird. A few months ago, I’d never met this person, and now my life feels extremely empty without him. All these things I used to do on my own with no problem—now that Bryce isn’t there, it just doesn’t feel the same. I never thought I’d be one of those romantic people, but here I am. I shrug.
“He’ll be home right in time for the holidays,” Will says.
“That’s right. Maybe I’ll do some decorating.”
“So, what will you do to pass the time?” Will procures a cupcake with purple flowers iced around the perimeter.
“Bobo and I have dinner together, and we go on walks.” I cradle Bobo’s giant face. “So many walks, right, boy?”
I let out a sigh.
“What is it?” Sheena asks.
Sheena is busy running the department and keeping tabs on her family.
I haven’t wanted to bother her outside of school.
I didn’t want to admit to my colleagues that I didn’t have any other friends here.
That was kind of a bleak thought. While I love spending time with Bryce and Bobo, I don’t want to be one of those people who just has a boyfriend and no one else.
That would drive Bryce and I apart, or to murder-suicide.
In a city of millions of people, a lack of friends feels more acute.
“I’m just hoping to expand my social circle.” I attempt to make it sound less pathetic than it is. Does it work? Judging by everyone’s pity looks, not so much.
“Emerson, I’m sorry, you know—” Sheena begins, but I interrupt her.
“You’re busy. And we’re not in grad school anymore. You’ve got a family.”
“Well, you have me,” Will says.
“You’re my TA. You’re going to flee the nest quite soon.”
“Emerson, how did you meet Bryce?” Will carefully takes the cupcake from its wrapper.
“Through very odd circumstances.”
“You got to know him by putting yourself out there. That’s really all you have to do. Just keep putting yourself out there, and you’ll make friends.”
“You’re right.”
“Bobo, no!” I pull him away from the cupcakes and put them on the top shelf of a tall bookcase. “Believe me, buddy, I want you to have these cupcakes as much as you do. I just don’t want to clean up the mess that will happen if you eat them.”
After the celebration and schmoozing, Bobo and I take a leisurely walk home.
It’s chilly out with fall in full bloom.
Trees are changing color. And sure, we have autumn back in Indiana, but it’s nothing like here.
There really is no place like New York City in the fall.
The changing leaves against the buildings—everything feels just so much older and classic, frozen in time.
There’s a palpable excitement; people know that they’re existing in the best time of year.
We stop at the takeout window of a local pizza place. With Bryce away, I don’t really cook as much as I should, but I plan to prepare meals for him when he’s back. I’m already looking at recipes and menu planning.
We trudge up the stoop and enter the building, but before we even make it past the mail area, I hear someone call out Bobo’s name.
Bobo barks back.
“Do you have a friend in there?”
Suddenly, the door to an apartment opens, and a tall, bald man sticks his head through the door.
“Oh, hello,” he says.
“Hi,” I say.
“Bobo,” the mystery person inside squawks.
“I guess Bobo has a friend in there.”
Bobo starts barking and pushes his way inside. I follow him into the apartment and find the voice belongs to a parrot. So that’s who was squawking at Bryce and me that night after the opera.
“She senses Bobo in the hallway. He has a very unique gait,” says the man.
Bobo barks back.
“Should I be worried about him trying to eat her?” I ask.
“He hasn’t yet.”
A familiar melody wafts through the apartment, as does the scent of delicious, fresh-baked pizza. I adjust my hearing aid, and the music becomes crisper. All my senses come alive.
“Is that … Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony?”
“Good ear,” he says. “It’s my favorite. It’s dramatic storytelling at its finest. From the depths of sorrow to the height of exuberance.”
“His use of the orchestra elevates the rich textures of the notes. Is this the Leonard Bernstein/New York Philharmonic 1974 performance?”
“It’s Herbert von Karajan conducting the Berlin Philharmonic. Bernstein’s conducting is too brash for my style. Von Karajan’s conducting is smoother, more refined.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard this version.” We listen in silence, and he’s watching me to get my reaction.
“Excuse me. I have to check on my pizza.” He steps away. My nose greedily follows him and the delicious scent to the kitchen, ten times more savory than the quick pizza I picked up. My stomach growls in agreement. “Are you making your own pizza?”
“Yes, I have an indoor pizza oven. I prefer homemade. I don’t like going out … for pizza,” he says. “Would you like to join me?”
He asks it almost sarcastically, since Bobo and I have practically moved in at this point.
I glance down at the pathetic slice in the white paper bag.
“I can save this for tomorrow.” I place it on a small table near the door. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? I’m Emerson. I live on the sixth floor.”
“Horton. Are you Bryce’s new roommate?”
“Bryce!” yells the parrot. She’s almost a foot tall, and her body sways back and forth as she speaks.
“I haven’t seen him around the building lately,” says Horton.
“He’s in LA for work for about two more months.”
“Bryce!” the parrot yells again. “Fuck you, Bryce! Fuck you!”
“Don’t mind Camilla. She also misses Bryce.” Horton pets her head as she stares down on us from her perch.
“I’m surprised Bryce likes her company.”
“Bryce and her mostly tell each other to fuck off, but it’s all in good fun.”
“It’s good to meet you.” I shake Horton’s hand. He has pale skin and kind eyes that hint at a deeper story. “And yes, I am Bryce’s roommate. Well, I was. Now we’re dating. I mean, we’re still living together, but more than roommates.”
“Ah. I see. I didn’t think Bryce would be into classical music aficionados. Good for him.” He smiles, amused. “I can’t eat this whole pizza by myself. If you two would like to join me. Bobo can have my crust. I get organic flour delivered. It shouldn’t upset his stomach.”
Bobo taps his paws on the floor, eagerly awaiting any kind of food. He really has a one-track mind.
“We’d love to,” I say. My stomach is as excited as my dog’s. “I might have a bottle of wine upstairs we could share.”
“I have a Barolo I was going to crack open.”
Barolo is infinitely classier than the five-dollar bottle I picked up from the drug store.
“Thank you so much.”
“It’s good to have company. Eating meals together is a custom since the dawn of time. We should embrace it. The word ‘company’ comes from the Latin meaning ‘with bread.’”
I love that he isn’t afraid to nerd out. This will be the first time I’m not eating in front of my computer screen alone since Bryce left.
“Why don’t you two go to the table?” Horton shuffles back to the kitchen.
Back in the main living room, I take a beat to look around.
It reminds me of one of those New York City apartments that someone has been living in for at least thirty years, if not more.
The layout is identical to ours—Bryce explained all the units are the same—but it somehow seems so different.
Every square inch of the walls is covered with pictures and gorgeous artwork.
The bookcases are bursting with books. Old books.
Two record players. Old maps. Photographs of gorgeous beaches and European cities.
There’s so much culture and memory bursting out of here.
I’m surprised it can all fit into a single apartment.
In the corner of the room, next to the couch, I spot piles of delivery boxes from Amazon, UPS, FedEx, as well as old bags with the Instacart logo.
I don’t see any signs of a roommate or partner. I get the feeling that all this stuff is very meticulously placed by Horton.
“So, it’s just you in here?” I ask when he returns. Bobo rests on his couch. Horton tosses him a crust.
“Me and Camilla. Just how I like it,” he says. He slices the pizza into sixths and hands me a plate with a slice. It’s the best thing I’ve had in my mouth since Bryce’s dick. Maybe better? I won’t tell him that.
“Wow. This is amazing,” I say between bites. I fight my urge to scarf it down.
“How’s the weather today?” Horton asks me. He cuts his pizza with a fork and knife.
“It’s a beautiful day. You should really get out there—New York in the fall is really something,” I tell him.
“Nah, I enjoy it from my window,” he says. He pours us each a glass of wine. “Do you play Scrabble? I have a vintage set from the sixties.”
“I’d be down for a game. I haven’t played in a minute.”
Horton lifts his glass. “To new friends.”
I clink with my first New York friend. “To new friends.”