I walked around the apartment, surveying the mess she had made that morning—clothes strewn across the floor, covers bunched at the bottom of the bed, the uncapped tube of toothpaste in the bathroom sink. It had taken a few weeks for the two of us to stop being self-conscious around each other, and now that we could be ourselves, the things I had originally viewed as somewhat cute and endearing had quickly become annoying. The bar of soap she always left at the bottom of the shower so that it became soft and mushy; unrinsed dishes left in the sink so that the food hardened and was tough to wash away; the way she never plugged in her phone until the battery died; the way a roll of toilet paper lasted only a day or two whereas I could make a single roll last for months. That isn’t an exaggeration. I understand that she’s expected to use much more than I do, but if I require a single sheet or two to wipe my own ass, then why did she need half the roll when she peed? Much later, once our level of comfort had grown even more, to the point that we each peed with the door open, I’d watch her with nothing short of amazement. When she finished tinkling she’d take a delicate, albeit misleading grasp of the exposed sheet, and with the force of starting a lawnmower, she’d yank it hard in a backhanded swipe that sent the roll a-spinning. After a good two or three pulls, she’d then ball it all up into a tissue-y mass and wipe twice before dispensing of the entire wad, ninety percent of which (and I’d be willing to wager my life on this) was still dry.

I cleaned Carolyn’s mess and checked my phone. No missed calls or texts. I called her again. It still didn’t ring and I left another message, then walked upstairs to Gene’s. He was clean-shaven, wearing khaki slacks and a starched, white button-down beneath a dark blazer.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I have a date in an hour, kiddo.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“What the hell do you think, I dress like this just to sit alone and read?”

“How did you get a date?”

“How does anyone get a date?”

“Fair enough. Where did you meet her?”

“At Sam’s on New Year’s Eve. Even kissed her at midnight. Hell, I might even get lucky,” he said and nudged me.

I scratched my head. “I feel as though I’m missing something.”

“I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you’re missing a lot of things.”

“Touché. So why are you dressed now if it’s not for another hour?”

“Wanted to make sure I looked good. What do you think?”

I eyed him from head to toe. “I’d sleep with you.”