Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
brUNO
Ilie beside her staring up at the tiny lights draped across the ceiling.
I’ve never paid much attention to my physical environment.
It’s utilitarian: a chair to sit in, a table to eat at, and an expanse of water to keep the world away.
Clearly for Kelsey, her environment is a source of pleasure and identity, and I love it.
“Your place is so you, overflowing with life and fun. It even smells like you.”
“Are you trying to say it smells like maraschino cherries?”
I kiss her ear and then her cheek.
What would I put in my environment if I was trying to make it mine? I can’t think of anything. It’s never occurred to me before, but my environment is essentially about avoidance and escape.
“So I suppose you think you’re going to sleep over.”
“I do have my overnight bag.”
“That’s pretty confident, mister. What were you going to do if I said no?”
“It wouldn’t take much to go back to the yacht. Or I’d take a room somewhere. I used to do that when I had late functions.”
She gives me the evil eye. “With a robot-dress girlfriend?”
“How can you blame me? I didn’t know that there were wallpaper-and-champagne-bubble-dress girlfriends to be had.”
“Once you’ve had a wallpaper-and-champagne-bubble-dress girlfriend, you can’t go back. It’s a known thing.”
“Is that a yes, then? Do you and your roommates have rules about guests?”
She props her head up on her elbow. “We’re fine as long as you don’t drink Sienna’s oat milk or run around in your underwear or start thinking you live here. Or leave bodies lying around of guys you’ve bashed with baseball bats or whatnot.”
I kiss the top of her head.
She grins. “So we’re doing this.”
I say, “We are.”
She plops her head down and stares at the ceiling happily. “Yay. And I don’t mean that sarcastically.”
She really is a fucking marvel. We are doing this. Right here, it comes to me that I don’t really know what exactly this is, or more like I don’t know how to do it. I’m not relationship material. My interior design scheme for my home is a giant moat.
“Hey.” She turns back to me. “Is something wrong?”
“What?”
Kelsey traces my lower lip with the warm pad of her finger. “You’re not the only one who can observe others. You look like you just had a tragic thought. Like maybe you’re realizing that time is in fact an artificial construct.”
She’s propped on her elbow, reading me with those hazel eyes that contain so many potential colors.
“I’ve never had a template for what this is supposed to look like.
My mother was gone so early. My father was a piece of shit.
Most of my relationship guidance came from teachers and drill sergeants whose main goal was to get us to behave.
And make us sorry when we didn’t. The main lesson there was to hide as much as you could. It’s not natural for me to be open.”
“You are being open right now.”
“Just telling you I’m not good at being open counts as being open?”
“Of course it does.”
“That seems like a bit of a cheat,” I say.
“Not to me. And anyway, do you think I’m a model of mental health and sanity?” She reaches up and puts two fingers gently over my mouth. “Here’s the thing—nobody’s a model of mental health and sanity. I think the point is hanging in there and trying your best. We’ll figure it out, right?”
I grab her finger and kiss it. We’ll figure it out.
“I had decent enough role models,” she adds. “My parents are still pretty much in love. Well, as far as I know. When I knew them.”
I slide a strand of hair between two fingers. There’s nothing to say. Her family is a warm circle she’s standing on the outside of, face pressed to the glass.
“But hey, I’ve got my problem areas, don’t you worry. I promise to trot them out and you’ll be like, what am I doing with this crazy person? Is it too late for a refund?”
“I’d never say that.”
“Just wait until I show you my Smurf doll collection or introduce you to my scary karaoke persona.”
I wrestle her over so that I’m on top and I kiss her. “Bring it on.”
Kelsey’s roommates are both on the couch when we come out, a bowl of popcorn between them, some show frozen mid-frame.
Kelsey points at each of us in succession. “Bruno, Sienna, Lola.”
Sienna’s lips part. “The robot-dress guy appears!”
“The robot-dress guy?” I turn to Kelsey.
Her face is beet red. “I sent pictures.”
“I can’t believe I ever put you in that dress,” I say.
“Bruno, it’s nice to meet you,” Lola says.
Sienna points at me. “You’re going to be good to our girl? Because she’s been through a shit-ton.”
“Working on it,” I say.
Kelsey plops down on the couch and grabs the bowl of popcorn, and I sit down next to her and nod at the TV. “Is that mincemeat pie lady?”
“Yeah!” Sienna holds up her hands. “It’s a bake sale! Quantity over quality!”
“Raisins for the win!” Lola says.
We eat the popcorn and argue about mincemeat pie lady and then watch the rest of the episode like we’ve done it hundreds of times.