Chapter 16 #3
It’s a large space, surprisingly, and has seating, but for some reason we all are more comfortable down here.
It’s the reminder that while we aren’t that different in age, Hudson aged very differently.
At one point, he went out and bought patio furniture while I don’t have matching sheets, which is a style choice. (Although I do here.)
Toby leans over the railing, looking towards the windows and my side of the building exterior. All of which are smaller.
“Is that your apartment? I don’t think I ever noticed that window” he points to the one between the spaces of our balconies. Realizing he’s never seen it, probably because he’s never been behind the shower curtain in my bathroom.
“That's just my shower window,” I say almost comically, like it’s an obvious thing, as Chan nods her agreement. “Weirdest design detail ever.”
We spend some time catching up, which is funny because it's only been a few days, but apparently a few days is enough for The Double Shot to have generated a full season of content without me.
We eventually moved to the patio furniture, and when we surrendered to it, we spent another ten minutes being annoyed at how comfortable it was.
The sun settles lower over the city, and we settle lower into the cushions, and for a while nobody says anything that requires a real answer.
Until Chandler sits up straight, reinvigorated and ready to explore.
“Let’s look around,” Chandler says, hopping to her feet with excitement
“Well, the kitchen you've seen, the living room and dining area you’ve seen, he has an office, a guest room, and—”
“The primary,” she says.
“—is fine, it's just a room, Chan.”
“Come on, I’m nosey, let’s see it,” she presses.
“She’s suspicious,” Toby corrects.
“There’s nothing to be suspicious about,” I say, standing and brushing my hands down the front pockets of my overalls.
“Down this way, there’s a bathroom, behind that door is his office, he never uses it, he seems to like standing at the counter more.
” Somehow the natural understanding of him slips out, and they don’t question it.
“That’s a guest room,” I say. Hoping the curiosity doesn’t extend to a room that should be of no interest. Even though that guest room is absolutely the primary bedroom, and I am the one inhabiting the guest room.
We cross the apartment, where everything has a place, and the temperature of the thermostat and the signature scent are in a long-term relationship.
“And here is the bedroom,” I say as I push open the door.
It's covered in bags and piles of clothes I moved over, and still have the long ordeal of hanging up in the shared closet. (Because that’s what married people do.) He has some suits in the walk-in, but the rest of the space will be mine, and we will say just like everyone does on any HGTV house-hunting show, that I have ‘too much stuff’ and ‘need all the space for my shoes.’
“He doesn't leave a toothbrush out,” Toby says from the bathroom. A large ensuite with a tub and separate shower, and two sinks set into a marble different than anywhere else in the apartment. “The counter is immaculate except for your bowls of stuff.”
“And? His toaster has also never even seen the light of day.” Chandler scampers in to join him, as her reflection in the mirror catches mine.
The collected crystal dishes from thrift stores is now how I keep my toiletries, including makeup, and all the perfume samples I’ve collected.
A game of perfume roulette every morning when I dig my hand into the bowl and pray to the Bloomingdale gods to bless me with something that doesn’t smell like baby powder.
“There’s nothing on his side of the double sink,” Toby looks back at me, now the more skeptical of the two. “Most couples, when they cohabitate, show an increase in counter clutter.”
“Who is operating this thing,” Chandler asks as she leans closer to him and taps him right in the middle of his forehead.
“Hardy-har-har, very funny,” Toby replies.
“He’s just, very private,” I say. “About the bathroom. It’s a thing.”
“Tell me more about this thing.” Chandler’s head cocks to the side, trying to get more info out of me, on either side of the double entendre.
“A tidiness thing, you know how he is.”
“I knew how he was at The Double Shot,” Toby says. “I have a half a year’s worth of data on how he takes his coffee, I don’t actually know him at all, not besides a phone call to your wedding.”
“He also hasn’t been in lately,” Chandler says, and she looks at me and her face is doing the opposite of playing innocent. (Of course.)
“He’s probably just—” I start.
“Changes in routine following a significant life event are expected,” Toby says. “But the pattern break preceded the wedding by days. Which suggests the variable wasn't the marriage.” Chandler rolls her eyes, even though I know she secretly loves to watch his brain work.
“We’ve been busy,” I say.
“I’m sure you have.” Chandler pulls her teeth under her lip playfully as she arches an eyebrow in my direction.