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Mina: Good!!!!
Is that too many exclamation marks? Too late, I’ve already sent it.
Celia: Want me to call you? Timothy said you’re alone.
Mina: I’m okay. I’m going to watch some TV.
Celia: Have fun. Call if you need me.
I find the remote and flick it on. Apps fill the screen, and oh my god, is that Maude? They’re an expensive porn streaming service, but the production company is run by women and they’re progressive as hell. Top shelf stuff from the little clips I’ve seen floating around the internet.
I sit up on the couch, glancing around. Nic’s not here, but I’m not sure when he’s coming back. Timothy’s on his way but stopping for food.
Screw it. I want to see what this is about since it’s out of my price range. I click on the icon and it starts mid-doggy style. It hits me I am very likely picking this up where Timothy stopped it after he came. It sends an excited little flutter to my core.
This is good quality, though. The lighting, the acting. There’s so much tenderness between the actors. The handsome man pulls out and they shift on the white leather sofa until she’s sitting, legs spread wide apart, while he kneels to—
Wait a minute.
I glance down at the sofa. Glance back at the TV.
That’s the sofa I’m sitting on.
I can see the railing of the stairwell behind it. The lamp is the same.
The edibles cannot be low dose. This is porn-ception.
It’s weirding me out, so I go back and pick another porno at random. A couple is making out in a pool. I relax again because this is good and my body might be turning to rubber anyway. Or a polymer. Either way, my sofa isn’t on TV, which means I’m not on TV.
The man lifts the woman onto the ledge of the pool to eat her out. A doorbell rings. I look over at my front door for a second. Did I order a pizza? I pause and go to the door. No pizza. Damn. I want pizza.
I start the porno up again and the couple turn their heads because the doorbell was in the porno and yeah, I almost fell for it a second time. The camera changes, looking into the house where a hot man is walking through the doors, and—
THAT’S MY SOFA!
Is this an out-of-body experience? Celia needs to label her fucking Tupperware.
I back it up a few frames and hit pause.
The dining table is the same. The art on the wall is the same.
This is so weird. It’s like…this screen is playing out my fantasies in my head. Am I dreaming? I stare at my hand for a minute, then at the screen. No, that can’t be right, because my fantasies are all Timothy and neither man on screen is Timothy. And my hand looks like my hand…but also not like my hand.
What if there were two Timothies?
I can’t move while I think about it, but eventually, I decide the world could not handle two Timothies, I could not handle two Timothies and thank god there is only one.
I pick another porno. Then another. Every one of them is shot in this house. I barely look at my phone as I type out and send a quick text.
Mina: YOU LIVE IN A PORNO SET? HOT BUT HOW?
I die when I see who replies to my text.
Celia: Wrong number sweetie, and yes, Timothy does live in a house where a dozen pornos were shot. Don’t worry, it was professionally cleaned before he moved in.
I hide my phone from myself under the couch, convinced Celia Foley knows every dirty thing I want to do to her son and would be mad because none of it involves cake.
Then I spend an unknown quantity of time playing a stoned Spot the Difference. My eyes only zero in on the lamp. It’s the same, but I double-check it at least twenty times. Just in case.
