“Are you gonna be okay? You know, with the rent and stuff?” Brenda asked me during a small break. I brushed back my hair and rolled my eyes. We’d had this talk over and over since she told me she was leaving last month.
“I always land on my feet. Don’t worry about me.” Everything in the house was hers. Except for my stereo and bed.
“You can keep the couch. Alexander doesn’t have room for it.”
“Thanks.” I’d need to pull a lot of doubles at the diner until I found a new roommate. I was grateful for anything she left here.
“Has anyone called from the flyer?”
“Nope. Which is fine, I guess. I don’t feel like painting the walls yet.” We walked into her room and stared at the mural I had made for her two years ago when we first moved in. I had used permanent markers to create the cityscape of Seattle for her, where Alexander lived, so that they could always see the same view. She hugged me tightly.
“You’re gonna do something with this someday. Promise me,” Brenda urged.
“You know I’m saving for school.”
We left the room and had more drinks, forgetting about all of our worries. I pretended for just a night I wasn’t in dire financial stress, and she pretended to not notice. It was a great last Friday night. When I finally went to my room to sleep, my mind drifted back to the night before at the diner.
Would I ever see Desi again? Was it stupid to hope so when I had more important things to worry about?
Still drunk, I stumbled over to the tall pickle jar I had under my bedside table. I pulled it out and stared at it.
Art School.
I rolled my eyes and reached for a marker on the table. I crossed out the words and added a new one above it.
Rent.
Sighing, I lay in bed, and really, really hoped that I’d see Desi again. Even if in just my dreams. After all, that’s all I had anymore. And what a surprise, to find him there, when I closed my eyes again.
