Page 87 of Sharkbait
Right away, I notice there’s been an adjustment to the wooden sign.
It still says “Home is Where the Pants Aren’t,” but now an additional mini-sign swings below it that reads “But Only When My New Roomie Approves.”
“I figured that would be a welcome addendum,” Mabel says from right behind me. “Does the calligraphy look okay?”
“It looks great. And thank you. Not just for the sign. Or for keeping your clothes on, which is definitely appreciated. But for opening your home like this, Mabel. It’s really… I’m just so…”
Against my wishes, my eyes well up with tears.
I put my bags down and let them flow.
“Aw. Don’t cry, girlfriend.” She gives me a hug, then pulls back and gently wipes my cheeks. “What’s mine is yours! I couldn’t be happier to bunk with you, biotch! And don’t you worry about curbing my style, either. I’ll still find plenty of Mabel Unleashed time when you’re out of the house.”
She smacks me on the butt.
Hard.
“Oh! Here’s your key, baby!”
She reaches into her skort pocket and pulls out a small bronze key attached to a starfish keychain.
She’s too much.
In the best possible way.
“You probably won’t ever need this—I mostly use the code on the electronic keypad—it’s T-I-T-Z by the way, or 8489 if you prefer thinking in numbers—but giving you a physical key felt more romantic. Not that we’re going to be romantic with each other! I just wanted you to feel welcome. That’s all.”
“That’s super sweet, Mabes. Thank you.”
“Go on!” she says. “Punch in titz! By the way, we can absolutely change that to something you prefer later. It used to be bugz, but that felt too on-the-nose.”
“Titz will be just fine.”
I punch in the code, push the door open, and take in the small space.
Mabel really is an angel.
An openhearted, skort-wearing, bug-loving angel.
There is a big hand-drawn sign taped across the living room that reads “Rock on, Roommate!”
On the kitchen island is a big wicker basket with brightly colored balloons tied to the handle. I walk closer to it and find two bottles of my favorite pinot noir resting inside, along with bubble bath, takeout menus for seemingly every restaurant in the greater Philadelphia area, and a framed photo of her, Calliope, and me.
“Mabel, this is incredibly sweet.”
“Don’t mention it! When I was a little kid, my mom worked for this company called Welcome Wagon. When someone bought a new house, the Welcome Wagon would show up with a basket full of goodies to welcome them to the ’hood. And since you are moving intomylittle hood, I thought you deserved some swag!” Come on, let’s dump those bags in your room!”
At that point, Ralph scoots in the front door, balancing too many things. “Look who I found!”
James walks in behind him, looking amazing as always. He’s wearing that light gray Henley he wore the night we met. The set of bar keys that are always hanging from the belt loop of his low-slung jeans softly jangle as he comes closer.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey. I wasn’t expecting you. I mean, I’m happy to see you. I just wasn’t... expecting you.”
He gives a small shrug. “Thought maybe you could use some help settling in.”
“Oooooh. There’s such crackly poppily energy between you two!” Mabel says. “Have you guys consummated your relationship yet or what?”
