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This breakfast moment affects me in a strange melancholic way.
I’ve never had a family. My roommates were orphan kids like me in a group home, then soldiers. Roey is my best friend and the closest to what would be an older brother. I had a girlfriend for a brief time which wasn’t anything to write home about.
Lu is now my friend and feels like the morning sunshine after the coldest night. And God, do I want to wake up in that sunshine every day!
Everything feels surreal. The view of the Manhattan skyline glistening in the sun. The scent of burnt toast and strong coffee. Lu and her paint smudges. Her chatter and the flirty, “Let’s hang out. We can watch a movie one night.”
I want another day like this, with awful grits and wonderful Lu. Yes, I want a movie night with her. I’m not used to people wanting me around in this easy unconditional way.
Friends are a rarity. When you grow up knowing even your parents didn’t want you, you appreciate genuine interest.
Lu is genuine.
And this might be my favorite morning of all time.
13
JACE
It’s shopping time.For the first time in a long time, I’m shopping for a present. For a girl. In a home improvement store.
A set of shelves—check. A set of small drawers on wheels—check. A handful of artists’ basics that I Googled online—mixing palettes, palette knives, rags.
Next, I stop at a decor store and buy a designer wood art supply cabinet and a stackable folding bookshelf. Thank god for a rental truck I borrowed from Roey.
Traffic is a given in Brooklyn, even at two in the afternoon. I get stuck on BQE, but Lu is worth it. I’m excited like I’ve bought myself a present I’ve been dreaming about for years.
I haul my loot to Goldsling Towers through the hallway to the elevator past the concierge who raises his brows. He likes me. I made sure of that. My glasses really do the trick. So does Pushkin with his pink leash. But I learned that our concierge, Greg, likes fine cognac. So at Roey’s advice, I got him Armenian stuff. Yeah, there’s a fine line between bribes and gifts.
“Renovating?” Greg asks on my third walk through the hallway.
Making Lu happy.
“Something like this,” I answer with a broad smile.
Up in the condo, I take off my shirt, because the condo is empty and hot as hell, and spend the next hour building a giant shelf for Lu’s paints and brushes then assemble the smaller cart and the cabinet.
I might’ve gotten carried away, I realize when I’m done, as I stand in the center of her room and look at the new furniture.
I hope this makes her happy. I want to see her smile.
Back in my room, I simmer in anticipation of seeing Lu’s reaction.
Curiosity is a bitch, and so is my obsessed mind.
Restless, I open Story Den again.
I’m not reading this for the substance. I want to see what crazy fantasies her artsy mind conjures. Besides big boys and tight wet… Yeah, those.
I decided to treat her stories like a manual. Some learn by practicing. I’m good with theory.
Spider pose.
Golden Arch.
Prince Albert’s piercing.
I Google every new term and make notes.
