Misery seizes me at the thought of him walking out the door. "No, don't go."
Seth's face lights up with hope. "Can I stay for a few days so we can try to work this out?"
"A few days?" I say in disbelief. "You don't have to go back home for work?"
He finishes the rest of his water in one long gulp, like he's spent the earlier part of the day crossing Death Valley.
"I took some time off," he explains. "I had a lot of vacation time banked."
Knowing Seth's work ethic, he hasn't taken a vacation day in years. And then I remember something else.
"I thought you were saving up for money for when you go back to school? Did you spend that money to come up here?"
Seth brushes aside this concern with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about that. I got a good deal on a plane ticket."
He spent part of his savings to come see me. This is all so surreal. In a minute, my alarm clock is going to ring and wake me from this dream.
"And I can sleep on the floor," he says firmly. "Or go stay with Trey. I need to spend some time with him while I'm here."
I look at him sitting there, all flawed and vulnerable and sexy. No one is perfect. Isn't that what I've been telling him? No one is perfect, but maybe two people can be perfect for each other.
I rise from the chair and cross the room, feeling Seth's eyes following me as I stride down the long hallway. Once I'm at the front door, I lift his backpack, which is quite heavy, and carry it to him. I set it at his feet with a thud.
"You’re staying with me. Welcome to Brooklyn."
* * *
Seth sayshe doesn't want me to change any of my plans for him so we spend the afternoon at the Williamsburg flea market and have a late lunch/early dinner at a little Peruvian restaurant that I love. Then we come home to wash the city sweat and grime off of us before going out again for the evening. I'm taking him to my local haunt so we can drink a beer, and I can beat him at pool again.
Seth disappears into the bathroom for his shower, and after a minute I hear the faucet turn on, just like old times. Once again, I'm picturing what's going on in there, with the soap and the water and Seth's body, but this time it's even more intimate. This ismybathroom in the privacy of my apartment. Dad and Renata aren't down the hall. There's not much to stop me from joining him and doing the work of his wash cloth except the fact that we still haven't resolved what's going on between us.
There's a jingle of keys at the door, and Marly scurries in, carrying a tiny plastic pot with undoubtedly some kind of seedling inside it. She doesn't greet me, but that's not unusual. Marly is much more adept at socializing with plant life than with humans.
She works nine to five at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens, and now that I'm catering, we keep very different hours. If I'm lucky, I can go days without seeing her.
"Hey, Marly," I say, setting down the New Yorker magazine I haven't been reading while I listen to Seth shower. "I need to talk to you for a minute."
"Okay.” She rearranges the pots on the sill so she can squeeze this one into the line-up.
I want to shout that there's no room left, but yelling at Marly is like shouting in a foreign language at a child. It would only frighten and confuse her, but wouldn't have the desired effect of stopping her from bringing more plants into the house.
"I have a friend visiting from out of town. He's going to stay for a few days."
She looks up at me briefly through her thick framed glasses, then nods briskly.
"No problem."
She presses a finger into the soil of every plant on the sill to test their moisture levels. Apparently satisfied, she forgoes the watering can and walks to the kitchen to retrieve the spray bottle. She's misting a hanging plant when Seth emerges from the bathroom in my striped towel holding a stick of men's deodorant. Crap. I'm busted.
"Seth," I say quickly, "This is my roommate, Marly."
"Oh, sorry, I didn't know anyone else was here," he says, taking a step backwards. "Hey, Marly."
When Seth emerges from a shower with a bare chest and wet slicked back hair, it's seriously like Poseidon has entered the room. Water is still glistening on his shoulders and the towel is low enough to see the delicate trail of hair leading into it. My first reaction is to wrap myself around him like a koala on a tree, which I refrain from doing, but Marly looks positively petrified. Her chin drops as she takes in every inch of him, her pale cheeks flushing with pink spots. She mumbles something unintelligible, then disappears into her bedroom, taking the spray bottle with her.
"Did I scare her?" he whispers, looking concerned.
"It's fine. She's just shy."
