by Jessica Marx
“Thanks, Mom. I promise, you have nothing to worry about,” I assure her and lightly kiss her on the head.
“Why would your mother worry?” my stepfather asks as he enters the room.
“I didn’t hear you come in, Joe,” Mom says, brightening just a little. “Eve has some exciting news.”
“Really? What’s up, Eve?” my dad asks.
I beam at him. “I got an apartment! I’m moving to Manhattan—Hell’s Kitchen!”
“That’s great,” he starts cautiously, “but how are you going to afford that?”
I summon up a little mettle and reply, “Ryan and I will be roommates.” My smile never falters.
“Ryan?” My father scrunches his nose. He frowns. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
“And why not?” I asked, throwing a hand on my hip.
“I know he’s my son but he’s still got his head in the clouds. He should be in college right now, but he’s convinced this acting thing is going to take off. I owe it to your mother not to let you go down that path. You’ve got a bright future, and I don’t want Ryan rubbing off on you… What about moving in with one of your female friends? Tara? Keira? I could see them making great roommates,” Dad proposes.
“Keira doesn’t want to live in Manhattan. Not yet, anyway. And Tara already has an apartment downtown that she shares with three other girls. I’m sure we will see each other a lot more, but there’s no room for me to live there.”
“Honestly, Eve, I can’t tell you what to do. I can only tell you what I think, and I think living with Ryan is asking for trouble,” Dad warns me in a stern voice. Then, more lovingly, he says, “But part of growing up is making your own decisions. Just know your mother and I will be here when things get rough.”
“Thanks, Dad. I think. Try and be a little more positive, though. Maybe things won’t get rough.” I smile and give him a hug.
“I guess it’s just hard to see both of you leaving on such short notice,” he replied, smiling.
“Dinner is ready now. Why don’t you set the table and you can tell us all the details while we eat?” Mom suggests.
I take out the dishes and silverware while my stepfather gets some glasses and a pitcher of water. I will definitely miss this, I think as we work together to get everything ready and sit down as a family. Ever since Joe came into my mother’s life, we’ve built something here that I never thought I’d have. My biological father left us when I was three years old, and for a long time, it was just me and mom… Leaving this behind would hurt…
We talk over dinner and I fill them in on all the details. As long as the paperwork goes through tomorrow, Ryan and I will be moving into our new apartment next weekend. My father offers to help, which is great. I don’t have too many things, and the space is small, so it shouldn’t take very long. They offer to buy me a new bed so I can leave mine here in case I want to spend a night at home. Dad also offers to help Ryan build the partition in the new apartment. I happily accept the offer.
The three of us clear the table and wash the dishes. As soon as we’re done, I head up to my room to start packing. I turn on some music and begin putting some of my photos and keepsakes into a box. Other than that, I only have my clothing. I plan on buying a small piece of furniture to put that into, since there won’t be a closet on my side of the apartment. Between the music and my enthusiasm, I have the majority of my packing done in no time.
All finished, I hop into bed. Soon, this won’t be my room anymore. I’ll be on my own, and the thought of it is as exciting as it is frightening.
I close my eyes, willing myself to sleep even as my heart races. I have to get up early tomorrow to get into the city. I have a short musical theater class tomorrow that Tara is taking with me, followed by a night shift at the bar. Satisfied that I’ve done everything I can to move things forward, the night takes me.
2
I arrive shortly before the class starts in the morning and see Tara waiting outside the Atlantic Green Room studio—or AGR, as we call it—with two cups of coffee in her hands. We’ve taken dozens of classes and workshops here together over the last few years. We’ve met many of our friends here, as well. I wave to her as I approach and she gives me a smile. As soon as I’m close enough, she hands me a cup and gives me a hug with the other arm.
“Hey, girl. How are you?” she asks.
“Very good. You?” I reply.
“Same. Nothing new. Why are you very good?”
I grin uncontrollably. “I got an apartment! We’re going to be neighbors! Well, kind of neighbors. You and I will only be a few blocks away from each other.”
“Awesome! Where did you find a roommate? Not Craigslist, right?” She narrows her eyes at me.
I wrinkled my nose. “Are you crazy? Of course not. Ryan and I are going to share an apartment,” I tell her.
“That’s great. I think,” Tara says. “As long as you guys can keep your clothes on.”
“Really?” I arch a brow. “Come on, Tara. You’ve known Ryan as long as I have. He’s my stepbrother. It’s not going to happen. We are just friends,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time. “You know that better than anyone.”
“I guess,” she says. “I just see the way the two of you are, and it’s different than the rest of us.” Tara looks at her watch. “Anyway, we better get inside. Class starts in a few minutes.”
And with that, our conversation is over.
I can’t help but think about what Tara said. Do our friends really think Ryan and I treat each other differently? I love Ryan as a friend. I love Tara as a friend. I don’t see any difference in the way I act toward them. Maybe I do or say more “girly” things with Tara, but that’s one of the advantages of having a male best friend—the perspective. Of course I’ve thought about Ryan sexually… There wasn’t a girl in a ten-block radius that hadn’t. That was just hormones. He’s my stepbrother and that’s that.
Tara and I settle in for the next couple of hours. The class is really interesting and interactive, so we have a great time. Since I have a few hours to kill before my shift starts, we decide to get some lunch and then hang out at her place so I can change and relax before work.
AGR is a short walk from Tara’s apartment, and now also from mine. I take Tara on a walk past what will be my building, and then we get some take out from a local deli and make our way to her place to eat.
Even though Tara has three roommates, no one else is home when we get there, so we have the apartment to ourselves. Their apartment is also very small, especially for four people, but it’s great anyway. Looking around, I get excited all over again knowing I will have a place of my own next week. I mean, Ryan will be there, but I know he will let me take the lead when it comes to decorating and whatnot.
While Tara and I eat, we talk about the class we just took and catch up on what’s going on with some of our other friends, and of course, the celebrity gossip. We fantasize and talk about what it will be like when we make it big. My parents might have wanted to keep Ryan’s dreaming from rubbing off on me, but they were too late…
Maybe that’s why I kept Tara around as a friend. She was hopelessly optimistic. We encourage and support each other in our craft instead of being cutthroat and backstabbing. I’m lucky to know her.
Once we get through the small talk, Tara asks about my plans for the apartment. I happily explain what I intend to do and when we will be moving in.
“How does Ryan feel about having you as a roommate?” she asks.
“Apparently, pretty good, since he agreed to it,” I reply.
“Just be careful, Eve,” she warns me again. “Ryan is super-hot. He’s also single. One drunken night alone in that apartment could change everything.”
“Seriously? How many drunken nights have we spent together already? He’s my STEPBROTHER. Step BROTHER. I think everyone needs to chill and trust that we know what we’re doing,” I mutter. I’m getting tired of justifying my friendship to everyone. I don�
��t care how hot Ryan is, or funny, or drunk. We are sharing an apartment, not a bedroom.
“Sorry, Eve. I’ll stop.” Tara sighs. “I’m just happy you’re going to be living so close. We’re going to have so much fun. Cheers,” she says, holding up her Styrofoam cup. We clink our deli cups together in celebration and all hard feelings are forgotten.
We finish our lunch and talk some more before I have to get ready to go. Tara doesn’t have to work tonight, so she is going out later with some friends. I use her bedroom to change and freshen up for a long night ahead. When I emerge, Keira is in the living room. She is one of our good friends and also one of Tara’s roommates. She is used to seeing me around—I’ve spent many nights here instead of taking the train home.
“Hey, Eve,” she greets me with a smile.
“Hey, Keira. What’s up?”
“Not much. Just living the dream,” she answers, indicating her waitress apron.
“Awesome. Me too,” I reply, smiling.
“Have fun tonight,” she replies.
“Oh, you know I will.”
I shouted a quick goodbye to Tara and left for work, descending the two flights of stairs to the front door. The bar I work at isn’t too far from here, so I walk there as the sun begins to set. I find myself thinking of Ryan again, wondering for a moment if I’m making a mistake. I know I’m not. I need to stop letting other people’s concerns bother me. I’m comfortable and happy with my decision, and that’s all that matters. A guy and a girl can be roommates. I don’t care what anyone thinks.
I walk up to the front of the bar and hear the music thumping already. It’s early still, so there isn’t a huge crowd, but I know what will be coming later. I take a deep breath and walk in.
I always think of my bartending job just like any other acting role I might take on. I’m playing a part: flirty, fun, outgoing girl slinging drinks and making wisecracks. It’s pretty much a guarantee I’m going to get hit on every night, likely several times. After so many months behind the same bar, the regulars have come to know me and tip very well. There’s also a couple of guys that I’m convinced come in here solely to try and woo me, hoping for that one time I might just take them up on their advances. Too bad for them I’m not into one-night stands, and I have no intention of ever going home with one of my customers.
I get myself set up and pour a couple of beers for the early crowd winding down from a long day at the office. Sitting on my side of the bar is one of my favorite regulars, Ken. Ken matches my wit and always makes for good company, especially in the earlier part of my shift when there’s not much to do. He works as an accountant nearby and usually stops in a couple of nights a week for a drink and some bar food.
“Hey, Ken. How are you today?” I ask, leaning over the bar slightly so he can hear me.
“Same old. Crunching numbers and counting down to five o’clock,” he replies.
“What can I get for you today? Usual?” I reach for a pilsner glass from the cooler as he answers.
“Yup, you know I like my beer to be just like you… Tan and sweet.” Ken jokes.
“That line never gets old, Ken. Even though you’ve been using it since the first time you came in.” I quip. “And the pisswater you like to drink isn’t sweet, so maybe you need to rethink your pick-up line.” I wink to let him know I’m teasing and hand him his glass.
“Thanks. Maybe one day it will work. Who knows?” Ken says, taking a sip of his beer.
I give him a chuckle. We go through pretty much this same routine every time he comes in. I don’t mind—he’s harmless.
I help the couple that came in after Ken and more people start to file in. I greet a few more of my regular guests and pleasantly help everyone at the bar. All in all, the night goes smoothly and my tips are very generous. Luckily, the crowd thins pretty early as it usually does on a weeknight, and I get to leave before midnight. In the city that never sleeps, it’s nice to be on my way to the train early enough that the sun won’t be coming up as I get to my house. Once you miss the late night train, the wait for the next takes forever. That’s just one more reason I’m looking forward to living here.
3
Since everything has been agreed to and signed, Ryan and I made plans to move in on Saturday. My bed is being delivered to the apartment and everything else I have will fit in my father’s truck. Ryan will meet us at the apartment with his own truck and help carry everything up the three flights of stairs. Our friend Tony is coming by to help, too. He was more than happy to lend a hand, especially knowing he’ll get beer and pizza in return. Everyone else seems to be busy today, but we should be able to handle it between the four of us.
The week flies by, and even after working extremely late on Friday night, I’m up and ready to go Saturday morning.
“So this is it,” Mom says over coffee in the morning.
“That’s very dramatic, Mom,” I reply.
“This is a big deal, Eve,” she says, “you went to community college and then commuted to Manhattan. You’ve never lived on your own.” She looks somber. “I know you’ll have Ryan to keep you company, but it’s not the same.”
“I know, Mom. But I won’t be far, and I will definitely be coming here for some of your cooking,” I answer with a smile.
“I hope so,” she says, smiling back.
“I’m going to miss having you here, too, but if we don’t get a move on, we will never be able to park and unload,” my father chimes in, draining his mug.
“Thanks, Dad. You always know how to make me feel loved,” I reply.
I get up and bring my dishes to the sink. Mom gets up also, and when the table is cleared, we give each other a hug.
“Sure you don’t want to come?” I ask her.
“Yes. I don’t think I’ll fit, anyway. I’ll come in a couple of days to help you unpack and settle. Call me if you need me sooner.” she adds with a smile and another hug.
“Okay, ladies. Time to go,” my father gruffs impatiently.
I embrace my mother one more time and my father and I walk out the door. The truck is packed full of boxes, so my mother was right—she wouldn’t have fit, anyway. Traffic is light this time of day, so the drive in is easy. We make some small talk and my father lectures me on all the safety rules he thinks I need to know.
We go through the tunnel and I direct him to my new building. We pull up in front, and of course, there is no parking. We drive around in circles for what feels like hours before we find a spot a short distance away. When it’s time to unload, he will just double park—at least, that’s what I think I hear him grumbling under his breath.
As we walk up to the building, I see my father eyeing the surrounding area. I know he is sizing it up for his own judgment and to share with my mother when he gets home. He lets me lead the way up the stairs to the entrance.
“Follow me,” I say, starting up the first flight of stairs inside the building.
“Good thing you’re in shape, Eve,” he says as he climbs the stairs behind me. “I can’t imagine doing this every day. How many flights up are you again?”
“Just three,” I answer. “Almost there.”
We arrive at the landing on the third floor and I see the door to the apartment is ajar. Ryan must have started early. I push it open, and right on the other side are Ryan and Tony. Even though it’s chilly outside, it’s hot in here. Both of them are shirtless and my stepfather isn’t even trying to hide the look of disapproval on his face.
They appear to be finishing the divider wall they must have started this morning. Tony is tall and lanky and is almost unnoticeable with Ryan next to him. The sweat on Ryan’s skin is making his chiseled chest glisten in the damp light. Every muscle is accentuated and bulging from exertion. I swallow, hard. It’s not like I’ve never seen Ryan without a shirt on, but the way he just made me feel when I walked in the door was definitely more than friendly.
“Hey, Eve! Hi, Mr. Thompson,” Tony says, offering his hand to my father.
/> “Hi,” my father answers, staring at Tony with his brow creased.
“This is Tony, Dad,” I interrupt. “You met at a couple of performances.” They shake hands, but I can tell Dad is more focused on Ryan.
“Thanks for helping out dad,” Ryan says cheerfully, also extending his hand.
“Don’t mention it,” Dad answers warily.
“We got here really early this morning, so we went ahead and started building the wall,” Ryan explains, proudly pointing at their handiwork.
“Great,” Dad answers, “It looks like you did a half decent job of it.”
“This looks awesome!” I say, trying to displace some of the tension in the room. “Do I have to paint it?” I’m not looking forward to that project.
“You do,” Tony answers, holding up a roller, “but we’re just about done, so you can start. Just throw a quick coat up and another later, and we are good to go.”
“When is your bed being delivered, Eve?” my father asks.
“Later this afternoon,” I reply, sure of why he is asking.
“Good. Let’s get to painting, then,” he suggests as he takes off his coat. “I assume there will be a door here?”
“Of course,” Ryan jumps in. “They didn’t have the size we needed today, so we’ll check somewhere else tomorrow.” I think the look on my father’s face and his line of questions is putting everyone on edge. Maybe accepting his help wasn’t the best idea.
“I will go out and find a door later today,” Dad offers.
“Thanks, Mr. Thompson, that would be helpful,” Tony replies, looking as uneasy as everyone else now.
Tony plays some music on his iPod and we all get to work. My father loses himself in the paint project and I start cleaning. I take some supplies and begin in the kitchen. We are all happily going about our business individually, some light conversation going on amid it all. When I finally emerge from the small, but now spotless kitchen, I can tell the discomfort has lifted a bit and everyone is getting along. I know my stepfather likes his son, but I understand why he is hesitant about our decision to live together. I might not have been his biological daughter, but he was very protective…
