7. Seth
Seth
On Thursday morning, I pull up to my old place. Andrew’s standing on the front step, arms crossed, tapping a foot, like he’s been waiting for hours.
“Hey Andy! Looking fresh—”
“It’s Andrew, Seth,” he says, glaring at me. Then he eyes me, top to bottom, and scrunches his nose. “I thought you re-opened.”
“Yeah, we did. A few months—”
“Are you not getting paid?”
I snort. “What?”
“Did you find those pants on Craigslist?”
I look down at my vintage Ralph Lauren carpenter jeans, before glancing at his beige chinos from Walmart or something.
I plaster on a smile. “Yeah, you like ‘em?”
I follow him inside and as soon as we walk over the threshold, the sour smell from the carpet invades my nose.
The walls are still plain white, still impersonal.
The fake plants on the windows sills and the floor lamp in the living room looks like they haven’t been dusted since I moved out.
We stop in the kitchen—also all white, except for the small, yellowed pine dining table—and I sigh inwardly.
“One box?” I say. “That’s it?”
“Yeah?”
I nod, glancing at him. “Don’t you work downtown?”
He raises his eyebrows, shrugging. “So?”
I scratch behind my ear. “You didn’t think to bring this one box by the studio for me?”
“Do I look like DoorDash?”
“I mean, no, but—”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Well,” I reply with a shrug. “You know I don’t have a car. I just thought—”
“Oh, so that thing you rolled up in, is not a car?” he says, raising his eyebrows even higher, crossing his arms.
I press my lips together, walking over to the box and freeze, my eyes widening.
“Did you open it?” I rush out.
“No!” he snaps. “I have no interest in that sort of thing, Seth. And honestly? I think it’s a little tasteless to put that label on it. Anal toys? Really? You couldn’t have written something a little more discreet? What if the new tenant found it? What would I say? What—”
“Look, Andy,” I turn around, facing him. “Can you please just tell me what it is about me that you can’t get over. ‘Cause I feel like we could’ve been—”
“Well, first off, my name’s not Andy,” he glares at me. “And honestly? I think what you’re doing is a little tasteless, too. Most of us don’t parade around our sexuality like it was the Pride festival every day.”
I frown. “What?”
“And just because you dress like a dude,” he air-quotes. “Doesn’t mean you’re straight. You’re still a queer, and the fact that you walk around showing off hickeys from other men like it’s a badge of honor is simply repulsive,” he spits. It’s like I opened a can of worms.
I swallow, nodding before I grab the box. “Okay.”
“Just make up your damn mind, Seth!” He throws his arms out. “Either you’re gay, or you’re not. Stop baiting either side!”
Oh, so that’s the problem? I’m not gay enough? What a strange twist of irony.
“Okay,” I mumble as I walk past him. “Bye, Andrew.”
My pulse’s hammering in my ears as I throw the box in the passenger seat, and jump in behind the wheel. I take a few breaths, trying to shake the feeling off. My neck’s hot and I close my eyes, rubbing my forehead with my fingertips.
I’m not good with conflicts. I usually stay clear of them, and I wasn’t prepared for this today.
I’ve given him the benefit of the doubt every time he’s been shitty towards me. I tried to adapt, to not be too much, or too loud. I stopped bringing guys to the house.
I never left my stuff anywhere. I always did the dishes right away. I even folded his laundry sometimes. That’s what good roommates do, right? Never even got so much as a thank you for it.
I think he was relieved when I told him I was moving out. It was basically the first time I’ve seen him crack a smile.
I drop the box off at home before I go down to the studio.
I park the pickup in the garage, where Kit’s crouched in front of his bike, as per usual.
I give him an up-nod as I put the car keys on the table, and walk into the shop through the back door.
Kaden walks in through the front door at the same time.
“Yo!” he says as he walks up to the coffee table. He moves the tattoo binders aside, and puts a wrapped-up baking pan on it.
“Sup?” I say, as I fill a balloon with helium and tie it up with a string.
“Mom said hi,” he says. “Asked when you’ll come over so she can feed you.”
I snort a laugh and fill another balloon, tying it up with another string.
Since Diaz is leaving in a few days, I planned a little get-together for him today. Kaden fiddles with his phone and then “No One Knows” by Queens of the Stone Age is streaming through the speakers. He walks over to me and helps with the rest of the balloons and then we make it over to the couches.
“What’s up, Sunshine?” he says, crossing his ankle over the other knee.
“What?” I turn to face him.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re pouting.”
“No, I’m not.”
He just stares at me.
I sigh, scratching my eyebrow. “I was at Andy’s this morning.”
Kaden clicks his tongue. “What’d he do now?”
“Nothing,” I say. “I just picked up a box.”
“A box? As in one?”
“Yeah,” I say, dragging my hands down my thighs and spreading my legs a little wider.
Kaden frowns, biting a piece of gum between his teeth. “You borrowed Kit’s pickup for one box?”
“Yeah.” I gesture vaguely. “He made it sound like it was more.”
“Doesn’t he work, like, two blocks over?”
I shrug.
“So, why didn’t he drop it off here?”
I shoot him a look. “He’s not working at DoorDash.”
Kaden scoffs, shaking his head as he unwraps the baking pan, revealing a carrot cake. “So, what did he say to you?”
“Nothing.” I shrug, glancing away.
“Dude.”
“What?” I turn to face him again.
“Tell me what he said.”
“Why do you think he said anything?”
“Because you’re pouting.”
“I’m n—”
“You think you can lie to me?” he frowns.
I lie to you every day. “It was nothing. He’s not my biggest fan, is all,” I say.
“Yeah. Because he’s an insufferable asshole.”
“Ey,” Diaz says, dropping down on the couch across from us. “That how you talk about me when I’m not around?”
“I’ve said worse things to your face,” Kaden deadpans.
“True.” Diaz nods, swiping a hand over his chin. “So, who’s the asshole?”
“Seth’s ex-roommate.”
“What’d he do now, Ojitos?”
“Nothing,” I say, because Diaz hates Andrew even more than Kaden does and I don’t feel like defending him today.
Diaz narrows his eyes at me for a beat but then he obviously decides to drop it as he cuts in on the cake—not even waiting until everyone’s here, and that’s so classic him I snort a laugh.
“What?” he says, leaning back.
“You’ve got frosting on your chin,” Kaden frowns.
“I’m saving it for later.”
“Disgusting, but okay.”
The back door opens and Kit walks in, dropping down beside Diaz, and cuts a piece for himself. Not saying anything to anyone.
I used to hate that. I never knew what he thought of anything—of me—and it made me anxious. He always just glanced at what I did—sketches, or practice skins in the beginning—before he hummed and walked off.
I was on edge for a month before Kaden told me that a quiet Kit is a happy Kit. It’s when he starts scowling and whisper-shouting that you know shit’s gone sideways.
“Alisha made this?” Diaz says, and cuts himself another piece of the carrot cake. Frosting still on his chin.
“She did,” Kaden says.
“That woman.” Diaz shakes his head with a small smile. “Can’t believe you turned into such a mamón with a mother like that.”
“Shut your face,” Kaden laughs. “I feel sorry for Marisol.”
Diaz laughs as the doorbell chimes and Iggy walks in. Her black ponytail swings behind her and her chunky boots squeak with every other step she takes before she stops in front of us, hands on her hips.
“Oh, you started without me. Shocker.” She rolls her eyes, dumping her bag on the floor and shuffles down between Kit and Diaz. She kicks her knees out, forcing them to shift in their seat and close their legs.
Diaz clicks his tongue, shaking his head.
“Cry me a river, Diaz,” she says, bending forward to cut a piece for herself. “No balls are that big.” She leans back, combing her short bangs down, and takes a big bite of the cake.
“You’re all a bunch of assholes,” Diaz says. “Except you, Muneco,” he adds, nodding at me.
“Good riddance, then.” Iggy grins at him before she picks up her phone, typing something and the music cuts to some awful, squeaky voice, and Kaden and Diaz both groan loudly.
“I’ll disconnect your phone and play Alice In Chains for a week if you don’t change the music right the fuck now,” Kaden says.
“Chica, I’m leaving,” Diaz says, going for puppy-eyes and a pout. “Don’t make me remember you this way.”
Kit puts in his AirPods and starts playing Candy Crush or something on his phone like he can’t be bothered with the theatrics of the rest of us.
I don’t say anything. I don’t like her taste in music either but I freaking love when we all come together like this, and if that comes with bad music and bleeding ears, then I’ll take it.