Page 224 of Romeo

Jasper: Fine. Giant kitchen. What else?

I curled farther into the corner of the couch with a smile on my face.

Me: Library.

Jasper: Obviously.

Me: With actual shelves. Not those little floating ones that hold six books.

Jasper: Floor to ceiling?

Me: Yes.

Jasper: Ladder?

Me: Now you’re getting it.

Jasper: Fireplace?

I paused.

Me: In the library?

Jasper: Wherever you want it.

Me: Definitely.

Jasper: Anything else?

The question shouldn’t have felt intimate. We were talking about an imaginary house neither of us owned, created because Jasper was apparently bored enough on a Sunday night to interrogate me about cabinets.

Still, I looked around Granny’s living room before answering.

The house wasn’t large or impressive. Nothing matched perfectly. The wooden floors creaked in places, and the porch needed repainting every few years because Virginia weather had no respect for maintenance schedules. There were pictures everywhere, some in expensive frames and others in cheap ones that had probably come from a dollar store. Granny’s afghan hung over the back of her chair. A basket near the fireplace held toys for the grandchildren who didn’t live here but somehow always left something behind.

I knew exactly what else I wanted.

Me: A porch.

Jasper: Front or back?

Me: Both.

Jasper: Greedy.

Me: You asked.

Jasper: Rocking chairs?

Me: On the front.

Jasper: What’s on the back?

I thought about it.

Me: A table. Maybe one of those big ones that looks better after it gets beat up a little.

Jasper: For dinner?