Page 41 of Pining for You

“Oh my god, I hope you got all that, Spielberg,” Izaac says to me now, while Diya continues to comfort Cash.

“You seriously couldn’t have scripted a more real moment of humanity!” she adds.

Once again, not exactly what I was looking for, but I mentally earmark it for a blooper reel.

“I’m so glad you’re all enjoying this,” Cash replies, looking thoroughly irritated with us all.

I thought he’d be in good spirits now that there is a safe distance between him and his furry friend. It’s not like him to stay down bad—he has the brain of a goldfish, and always forgets the hard stuff after about ten seconds. You could set your watch to it.

Maybe his boots are really getting to him—either way, I seriously hope this trip doesn’t backfire and dampen some of my friends’ holiday spirit.

For now, Diya is explaining how the rat population has been displaced from their natural habitat by humans.

“Okay, well, that’s really sad!” Cash says, softening. “Now I feel bad. I can’t believe we did that to them.”

“Yep, that’s why I prefer plants to people,” Diya says. “Humans are the worst. Sorry, Bosley.”

“I respectfully disagree.” I take in this totally new neighborhood, and all the ways that humans have converted this habitat into another, different holiday-ready haven. Now this is film-worthy.

For my film studies elective junior year, I wrote a paper on the many ways the North Pole has been depicted throughout cinematic history to illustrate how different directors’ visions can lead to many different imaginings of a single place. Most of the time, it’s been super magical and warm and cozy, like in Tim Allen’s The Santa Clause series. But there have been other interpretations, like the more high-tech operation of Arthur Christmas or the Alpine, old-school style of the often overlooked classic Santa Claus: The Movie. Today, as we move from one part of the borough to another, it feels like each neighborhood is a different filmmaker’s interpretation of Brooklyn.

Compared to Cobble Hill, walking along the streets of Williamsburg is like stepping into another world. There are fewer brownstones and more industrial, warehouse-style buildings. There’s a diner on the corner where we emerge, shiny and blue with red neon piped along the top. There are windows with Pride flags and a barbershop and a tattoo parlor. I try to capture the vibe with my camera.

“Okay, so it should be right over…,” Izaac says, looking at his screen, and then pointing. “… here.”

The bar has no sign, but the windows do show signs of life. Each frames a scene happening in real time on the other side of the glass: friends sitting at high-top tables, eating wings and nachos, or watching football on TV screens in the background. It kind of looks like a Super Bowl commercial. But more importantly, it looks very warm.

“Uhhh, new Coze levels unlocked,” Cash says. Now he’s collected himself and is peering in the window and smacking my arm like the rat incident never happened. Something’s definitely up with him, but I’m relieved he is back to his goldfish brain for now.

“Bruh, registering off the Coze-o-meter charts right now,” I reply.

“A literal Coze-Quake.”

“All right, you two, inside,” Izaac says, opening the door, and we comply.

I’m excited to thaw out, but also to take in the scene. My lens lands on a handful of solo diners at the bar.

“I could totally see that being you,” Diya says, coming up beside me and pointing to one girl at the end of the bar with her laptop and a composition notebook—the kind I usually use to write my scripts.

“Me?” I ask, looking up from the camera.

“Totally,” she says. “Just Bennie Bosley, sitting a bar, writing scripts and being so Brooklyn.”

A warmth spreads through my chest. I’ve been so busy trying to hold on to the moment, our last year, and all our traditions that I haven’t considered what daily life might look like in Brooklyn. Now the questions pile up. Like, can I pull off being a solo diner? Will I ever feel comfortable enough in my own company to be a solo diner? But thanks to Diya, now I see myself coming here after a morning coffee (or miso mocha) at Liz’s, meeting Cash and Izaac after their classes for some coworking and people watching, and man, I like it.

“Ohhh, can we play Connect Four?” Cash asks Izaac, pointing to a small coffee table and chairs on the opposite side of the bar. “Diya owes me a rematch.”

Rhapsody has basically canceled the two of them when it comes to their board games after some… shall we say, unsportsmanlike conduct that resulted in my adding the word defenestrate to my vocabulary.

“Oh, you want to take this rivalry on the road?” Diya asks him, rubbing her hands together.

“Why not?” Izaac says. “I’m sure it won’t take long for Diya to deliver an ass-whooping.”

“Way to support, babe,” Cash says, and kisses Izaac. That one I actually do manage to catch on camera.

When they walk away, Izaac looks at his watch.

“How much time do we have?” I ask.