Page 39 of Flying

“I’ve carried you home a few times now, figured it was fitting to revisit the old group anthem.”

I was right. It is “We Are Young” by Fun featuring Janelle Monáe. The phrase ‘we are young’ was sing-song exclaimed for every silly, extreme, or unexpected idea. With twin smiles we’re shouting to set the world on fire, and the irony of it isn’t lost on me that not many months later that year setting things on fire would be literal. A catalyst for every change I’ve been through in the last decade.

I pull up to my assigned parking spot at the apartment, and then we’re sitting and waiting. I know he’s expecting me to lead the way, but I’m frozen in place. The longer I wait, the more nervous Ibecome. I just have to move. So I scramble out of the seatbelt, nearly hitting myself in the face with the metal latch plate on the strap.

Getting out of the car, he stretches and declares, “The first thing I’ll need is to shower. I hate the feeling after sitting on a plane.”

“One hundred percent, me too. It’s the recycled air, or how inefficiently they clean, or just having someone breathe on me for a few hours while I’m trying to watch a cheesy movie and forget that we’re hurtling through the air in a tin can. It doesn’t even make logical sense that we are able to fly in something so large and heavy honestly.”

I realize I’m rambling, but he’s just smiling and nodding along. Walking up to my door together, I’m nervous to have someone in my personal space. I put the key in the lock and immediately begin to apologize.

“I did my best, but I’m sure there will be something I forgot. I’m not the neatest, but I really, really try.”

Scratching against the door picks up, the beige painted wood is suffering under Pete’s claws. “Calm down, pup, it’s Mommy!”

The door opens into the apartment, nudging Pete back a few steps before he stretches long like a downward dog pose with paws forward and his head bowed. Lowering down to him, I give him a few scratches on his head thanking him for being a good boy while I was out. Sniffing, Pete starts to make an unhappy face; his longest, sharp, canine tooth exposed from the side of his curled lip. There is no snarl or posture change implying he’s looking to attack, but I know by now this motion implies uncertainty. Pete’s assessing if he needs to protect me. Thankfully, after giving a slight warning growl, Pete continues to sniff at River and switches to wiggling his hips and tail.

“Better give the man what he wants. Pete is asking for you to scratch his booty, and if you ignore him he’ll hate you. He’s testing his approval of you coming back. Generally, what he says goes around here.” I wink at Pete.

River joins me on the floor, shrugging the backpack off his shoulder and placing it on his duffle, shutting the door behind us.

I knew this place was small. Now that Pete, River, and I are squished together on the floor of the entryway slash kitchenette slash living space, it’s downright claustrophobic.

Pointing to the only other door in the place, I say, “Feel free to use anything you need to wash off the plane feeling. Clean towels are in a basket, you’ll see them.”

Once the bathroom door clicks shut I climb onto my daybed-slash-couch to listen to a guided meditation in hopes of calming down before he’s back in the room. Relaxing would be a lot easier if I wasn’t already drenched in his pine scent, that only grows stronger as he showers.Note to self: read his soap bottle and switch so you can drown in it.

Before I can fully shut off my mind, I pop up wide eyed. No. I can’t possibly be that stupid about housekeeping. I put everything away yesterday. Right?

I didn’t just wash it and leave it on the shelf there, like a giant invitation to…I don’t even know what. Think about me masturbating? Tease me for it, in the most non-sexual way? Think it’s an invitation to something more. I should check that everything is in the lock box.

Feeling under the bed frame, I realize it’s not there.Shit. That means it’s under the sink.

Laying back down I tell myself: hands light on your belly, follow the coaching, breathe in, breathe out. This particular track is listed as ‘heart opener: a journey to your true desires.’ Instead of hearing what they are asking, I’m thinking about the man in my shower.

All morning while he was on the plane the girls’ group chat was sharing things River would never know to point out about himself.

Group Chat: Bad Bitches [Stef Santos Manolo, Lily Long, Delia Shane, Nessa Rabin]

Delia:

River living upstairs isn’t just because he wants to work on the cottage. He’s literally always at the bar, cleaning, fixing, brewing beer or moonshine. He’s been letting me do the books a little more lately since I’m thinking about starting my own makeup and styling company, but he’s doing pretty well for a small town. He’s always in the black.

John’s kind of a dick.

Lily:

John? Ya mean Mr. Hendrix?

Stef:

Kind of?

Delia:

Kind of. He’s getting better with River since revenue is up. It was uphill.

Nessa:

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