Page 38 of The Roommate Situation

“You okay?” she asks, with a soft smile and kind eyes as she moves her finger along his arm, tapping, searching for a vein.

Rory nods but he’s trembling.

“Hey, look at me,” I tell him. He does. “You got this. You’re so brave, little dude.”

“Okay, here we go,” the nurse tells him. I squeeze his hand and feel his body tensing and another hiss leaving his lips, but he does it.

“It’s in,” the nurse says. “Worst part is over. You did really well, sweetie.” She tapes it on the inside of his elbow and tosses everything in the trash.

Rory closes his eyes for a minute, his hand tight around mine. It’s several more moments before he relaxes and looks at me.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice soft. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me, too,” I say.

It’s a while later that the doctor and the anesthesiologist come by to talk to him, and a while after that before the nurse comes by again and tells me it’s time for me to head out to the waiting room and that they’ll let me know when Rory is awake and ready to go home.

I nod and stand, pressing a kiss to his forehead before I walk away. I’ve been texting Rory’s mom this whole time, letting her know he’s been doing fine. I update her once I’m back in the waiting room, and she thanks me profusely for the millionth time for looking out for her baby boy.

Rory is finished not long after that and I can’t help chuckling when I drive around to pick him up, and he’s so loopy that nothing he’s saying makes sense. He repeats himself half a dozen times, saying something about cats and rainbows before moving on to one word.

“Food,” he says. Then repeats it when I ask him where he wants to eat.

“I can make you something,” I say. “Or I can pick something up after I drop you off at home.”

He licks his lips and then hiccups loudly, and I chuckle again.

“Ow,” he groans. Then hiccups again.

Since he hasn’t answered my question yet, I ask again. He looks at me like he isn’t sure who I am, blinking several times as he stares. “I’m hungry. And thirsty.”

“I know,” I tell him. “What do you want?”

He looks like he’s considering it, then says, “Food,” again. “I’m hungry. And tired. They never give you enough time to sleep after those procedures, you know? They’re practically slapping you awake and yelling at you to get the fuck up and get dressed already. Not nice.” He yawns. “I’m tired.”

“Twenty more minutes. You can sleep now if you want.”

“Oh, good,” he says, resting his head back against the seat. “Cuz I’m tired.”

I look over a few minutes later to see him asleep, his mouth hanging open and a small bit of drool sliding down his chin.

When I park the car in the apartment parking lot twenty minutes later, he’s still passed out, so I climb out and go around to his side. I open the door and scoop him up, holding him to me and closing the door with my hip before carrying him inside. I struggle a bit, trying to figure out how to get inside with him in my arms, but manage somehow. I make my way through the living area and to my bedroom and lay him in my bed before sliding his coat and shoes off, and tucking him in.

I make some chili while he sleeps, and when he wakes he’s a bit more lucid and more than ready to eat. We snuggle up on the sofa and watch a documentary on Amazon Prime titledSecrets of the Octopus.

“You feeling okay?” I ask him, breathing in his scent and feeling his curls tickling my chin. He nods.

“Fine, just a little sleepy still.”

He makes it through the documentary before he’s nodding off on my shoulder, and I help him to bed.

Lying next to him that night I card my fingers through his curls as he snores softly, his nasal strip in place, kitty cat mask over his eyes, and his glasses on the nightstand next to him.

I can’t help thinking how much better my life has been since I met him, since he moved in with me. How lucky I have been to have known him, that he’s willing to share any part of his life with me, that he wants to be with me in any capacity at all, because I know he doesn’t have to be.

I can’t help thinking about what it does to me to have him sharing my bed, waking up next to him every morning, seeing that smile. I can’t help thinking that I don’t want to ever wake up to anything but his small body curled up against mine and his curls tickling my face. I don’t ever want to wake up and not see those glasses on the nightstand or him wrapped in one of my T-shirts.

I don’t know how long it’s supposed to take to fall in love with someone, because I’ve never been in love before. But I think, maybe when you find the right person, it takes hardly any time at all.

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