Deep down, I know that my type A ways drive her just as crazy as her chaos drives me crazy, so learning to live together again will be a challenge. One thing that I am definitely up for if it means I don't have to live alone.
And you should have seen the look on my mother's face when we told her B was going to be moving in with me. You would have thought I told her Barnes & Noble was having a two-for-one sale on self-help books. She would not stop telling us how lucky we are to have each other and how she wishes she would have had the opportunity to live with her sister again.
I actually believe her when she says that. My mother and her sister would leave their husbands in a heartbeat and live off-grid on a hobby farm together if the opportunity presented itself. B and I have always idolized them, and I guess you could say that they are a big part of why we are so close.
Walking around the box of yarn, I wrap my sister in a big hug, squeezing her until she begs me to let her go. I plant a big kiss on her forehead and free her from my bear hug. I put my hands on her shoulders and look her in the eyes. "I love you, B. And I'm really glad you're here. We'll find room for all your shit, even if it means we have to stack boxes to the ceiling." Which is saying a lot, given that these are ten-foot ceilings. Her smirk lets me know that I am forgiven and we can continue on with the unpacking.
Pepin trots over with a plush toy in his mouth and squeezes his way between B’s legs, trying to get her attention. With a smile now on her face, she reaches down and grabs his toy. She’s about to throw it when I stop her.
“No, wait. He doesn’t want to play fetch. He just wants to show it to you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he just wants you to be proud of him and tell him how cool his toy is.”
A little chuckle escapes, and I barely hear her mumble as I walk into the other room, “Sounds like someone else I know.”
“I heard that!”
After what feltlike thousands of trips up and down the stairs, since the old building doesn't have an elevator, we finally got everything out of the trailer. I give myself permission to take a break and plop my butt down on the couch. B comes in a moment later with two seltzers in her hand. She sits down on the couch next to me, cracks one for herself, and hands the other to me. I hate the watermelon flavor, but I'm so exhausted that I am not about to get up and walk to the fridge to grab a new flavor.
"So, how's this going to work? Are we on a rotating schedule for who gets to bring hot dates home? Or is it a first come, first serve type of thing?"
Leave it to B to be the first one to bring up sex. Like the rest of her personality, her sexuality is wild and free. Though she has never had a serious long-term relationship, she has had her fair share of hookups and even the occasional situationship.
I used to live vicariously through her when I was in my relationships. Lucky for me, she's an open book and spares no dirty details about her sex life, and it's only going to get more interesting with her new job.
B got hired by Daniel Perez, an art curator for celebrity clients. His job requires him to travel all over the country and even internationally to collect art. They met at a nightclub here in the city when B was visiting me last fall. She had the balls to climb up a railing to the bottle service booths just to tell him she loved his jacket.
Apparently, this jacket was part of some rare collection that used art graphics from the 70s. I honestly would have thought it came from the half-price bin at a thrift store had B not told me it was worth over $4,000. She knew exactly what it was, and he was impressed. He then invited her up to his booth, and they spent the rest of the evening talking about rare art and fashion, which are all things I know nothing about.
At the end of the night, he gave her his business card and told her to call him if she was ever looking for a job. She took him up on his offer this spring when she graduated. Now, she’s his personal assistant and will get to travel all over with him.
She has already told me she plans to hook up with a new person on each trip. When I asked her what her boss would think of that, she just said, “Daniel is a self-proclaimed glut, so he’ll be getting more dick than me.” The confused expression on my face had her explaining that glut meant ‘gay slut’. When in Rome, I guess.
The only response I have for her is an uncomfortable laugh because, if I’m being honest, I haven’t even thought about having another man back in the apartment that I used to live in with Jay.
“Lou, you need to get back out there ASAP! I’m serious; we need to get a dick in you before it gets old and dusty.”
“Excuse you! It’s only been a couple months.”
“Tooooo long.” She sets her drink down on thecoffee table without a coaster and bends over till her head is between my knees. “Yep, exactly what I feared. The cobwebs are already taking over.”
Slapping her head away, I yell, “Okay! We need to set some ground rules. Starting with personal space and off-limits topics, including my vagina.”
Her laugh makes me roll my eyes and eventually join in. We both know that there is no such thing as off-limit topics with us.
I reach out and put a coaster under her drink.
“And aren’t you the one who always tells women that they don’t need a relationship to be happy?”
“Who said anything about a relationship?”
I’ve always been a long-term relationship girl, so I don’t have experience in the casual one-night stand department. Luckily, I have a live-in expert.
“Don’t you ever worry about STIs?”
“I mean, sure, but that’s what condoms and Ruthie are for?”
