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I stutter, wondering why the hell she’s bringing this up.
“Oh, come on. Like… yours are like oranges, and hers are like… melons,” she says, demonstrating the size with her hands.
“Oh, yeah? What are yours?” I say, getting up.
She looks down at her chest and pokes at her tits.
“Well, mine are clementines, but I’m knocked up, which means soon they’ll be those plastic bags of milk we get at the convenience store.”
We laugh at the comparison, and then I head to my room.
I sit at my desk and pull out my notebook and pencils. Even though I’ve been drawing all day, I like to come home and unwind by drawing with my pencils in my notebook. Simple things that I think of on my own only for me.
My parents were archaeologists. They were always jetting from one country to the other, leaving me with my uncle, who I’m pretty sure didn’t know I was there half the time. I got used to being alone. And being left alone.
I did visit my grandfather a lot. He introduced me to art. We used to go to art museums in Toronto. It was fun. One day we were walking down the street, and I saw a tattoo shop. Some tattoos they’d done were hanging on the window, mesmerizing me. It was the first time I realized what I wanted to do with my life.
When I graduated high school, I went to art school in Vancouver and never left. I had a fantastic time meeting like-minded people who loved art as much as I did. That’s where I met Sarah, my other neighbour, who introduced me to Daisy. Well, technically, Daisy and I knew each other in Toronto. She’d been my friend since elementary school. We lost touch after high school because my parents finally took me on one of their trips. When I got back, she was going to another school, and now, after her divorce, she is my roommate.
Recently the conversation of what to do when Daisy has the baby was brought up. It’s a pretty big apartment, so we can have her. It’d just be about convincing Daisy that she still needs us. She doesn’t have anyone to do this with but has difficulty asking for help.
We have time, though, to figure this out.
I look out the window of my room to the street below. Erin’s talking to the U-Haul guys while other guys bring in her stuff. It’s mostly cardboard boxes, then a lamp and a mattress. It’s dark now, and the street lamps illuminate her like a halo.
My heart beats faster when she looks up at me from the street and waves. I wave back and sigh. I want to see her again and smell whatever that scent is. Vanilla, maybe? Whatever it is, it’s intoxicating. My fascination with this woman is beyond anything I’ve felt for anyone. I’ve never felt anything like this before.
I look back down at the street, but she isn’t there. She’s probably carrying another box up to her new apartment.
I wonder for a moment if I could gather up the guts to ask Erin out. Insecurity gnaws at me as I think of her rejecting me. She just moved countries and jobs, so she may not be in the mood. And I’m not sure I can have a one-night stand with her. Something tells me that I’m done for the second I touch her.
I don’t know. Maybe I can try. What’s the worst that can happen?
Oh, god. Don’t say that.
Chapter 2: Erin
I’mleaningagainstthedoor frame when Danny comes down the hall towards me. He’s grumpy and seems in a foul mood, so I give him my best smile to try and cheer him up.
It doesn’t work, but I still smile to be polite.
I explain to the landlord that I tried my key, but it wouldn’t go in. Turns out he didn’t give me the right key. So he gives me my key, and I start furnishing my apartment.
My life has taken quite a turn in the last few months. I went from being in a relationship, my parents were in the country, work was going well, and my research on environmental and natural resources was going well.
Then out of nowhere, my girlfriend of five months breaks up with me, my parents leave on some cruise, and I get fired from my part-time job. At least I still had my research.
One day I was browsing the internet, and an opportunity in Vancouver presented itself, and I took it. I needed a fresh start anyway, and now instead of getting a part-time job, I can work for the university.
I put my bag on the floor and look at the empty apartment before me.
Fresh start. Yeah, this is going to be good.
The movers start putting my stuff from the U-Haul into my apartment. They lugged my bed frame in pieces, the mattress, tables and drawers, as well as a bunch of boxes of clothes and books. It’s sad as I sit in the middle of ten boxes that my entire life can fit into a small truck.
It makes sense, though. I’ve spent most of my life in school, researching and reading. I’m not a knick-knack person, but I’m 32. I should’ve more stuff than this.
I take a deep breath, stop moping around, turn on some music, and start unpacking my life. I first tackle the hundreds of books I have. I don’t have shelves yet, so I stack the books in towers on the floor under some large windows. After I’ve emptied out those boxes, I clean the drawers and put my clothes inside.
