bed in the poolhouse, staring at the ceiling, unable to turn off my brain. I knew it was the nerves and adrenaline of being in this new place, starting this new job. I had nothing to be nervous about. I knew that. I’d aced my first day and Cary and I got along.
I just had all this restless energy left over, that my jog didn’t seem to dissipate.
One of the things I loved about my apartment building, and was kinda missing right now, was the rooftop. It was accessible from the sixth floor, right above mine, and I sometimes went up there at night just to listen to the sounds of the city and look at the stars.
But there were stars here, too.
I got up, pulling my sleep shorts and tank top back on. I didn’t bother with the bra this time. It was the middle of the night. I looked around for my Metallica hoodie, and when I couldn’t find it, I realized maybe I’d left it in Cary’s living room.
After Bill Burr, he’d gone back to work in the studio. I’d watched a bit of another comedy special, almost dozed off, then dragged myself off to bed. I’d slept for a bit, then woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep.
I dug another hoodie out of the closet, pulled it on and went out into the backyard in bare feet. I put up my hood and dug my hands into my pockets. It was cool but not cold. The golden lanterns around the pool and gardens had gone out and the yard was dark.
It was a clear night and when I looked up, I saw stars smattered across the sky. They were dim, and maybe it was my imagination but it seemed like I could see more stars here than from my apartment downtown. Maybe just because it seemed so much darker in this quiet residential neighborhood, even though I was in the middle of the city.
I laid myself out on a lounge chair by the pool, and looked up at the stars. Way better view than the poolhouse ceiling. I tried to clear my mind and count the stars. After a while, I realized I kept losing track and had to start over, which meant I was probably close to falling asleep.
I almost got up to drag myself back to bed, but I didn’t.
Then I heard a noise. I jerked, wondering if I’d fallen asleep. I sat up and looked around in the dark.
Cary was standing at the French doors in the living room, inside, and I heard the click as he locked them for the night. He looked out, seemed to look across at the poolhouse, which was dark. He didn’t see me out here in the darkness. He turned away from the windows.
I got up to show myself, to go ask him if he wanted to join me, maybe. But then I hesitated. What time was it?
Come look at the stars with me.
It seemed silly. Intrusive. It was the dead of night and he’d already spent most of his day and his evening with me. Surely he was sick of me by now, and wanted some sleep.
I watched him walk back through the living room. It was dark, except for the light in the studio that was bleeding in, dimly, through the foyer beyond. And for some reason, I drifted toward the doors.
He stopped as he passed between the couch and the coffee table, and I stopped, several feet away from the doors.
He reached to pick something up off the table. Something small. He turned it over in his hand and seemed to study it carefully. I couldn’t really see his expression or his eyes, just his face in dim silhouette.
He put whatever it was back down on the table, gently.
I wasn’t sure why I was standing there, watching him. But I didn’t move. I barely breathed, like he might hear me or something.
He turned and looked at the end of the couch, right where I’d sat while we watched comedy on his big screen a few hours ago. He reached to pick something up off the couch.
My Metallica hoodie.
A warm prickle went through me when I realized what it was—like he was touching me.
He held it in his hands, like he was feeling the soft fabric, gently. Then he lifted it slowly. He held it to his face, maybe inhaling the scent. Then he lowered it and just held it, standing there a long moment.