it all. Deciding I wanted to find a place for us and then Tom coming back with an availability before lunch—but I had to act today—was wild. All day long, I just kept saying yes. Yes, science chair. Yes, a yearlong STEAM cohort thing. Yes, an apartment in JP. Yes—"
"What STEAM thing is this? You didn't mention that," I interrupted.
He shook his head. "I'll tell you about it later. It's all good news, I promise, but I have to call Tom tonight. I'll cry ugly, snotty tears if we don't get this place. I've already planned an Earth Day party there next spring."
"Take care of business, babe," I said. "Then I'm taking you home with me. It doesn't matter who hears the pull-out bed squeaking tonight."
Jory snorted as he tapped his phone. "I'll remind you it's a school night and I'm going to crash real soon."
"Then I'll give you the little spoon treatment instead. Either way, I'm winning."
Part V
Summer
9
Jory
"I can't believe this is it," Mallori said. She grabbed a fleece blanket from one of Max's laundry baskets and folded it in half, and then folded it again and again until it formed a small rectangle. "I'm going to miss you guys so much."
Moving day was finally here. School was out, I had a couple of weeks before the STEAM collaborative kicked into gear, and we had a bunch of friends coming to help us cart our things to our shiny new Jamaica Plain apartment. The one that was not subterranean, not shared with an anal-retentive demon, and not filled with small children.
"I wouldn't spend too much time with that blanket," Max said as he piled a rainbow of running shoes into another laundry basket. It seemed boxes were not his preference. "I can't tell you the last time it was washed and it's seen a thing or two." He watched as she ran her hands over the nubby fabric. "By a thing or two, I mean penises."
I snorted out a laugh as Mallori dropped the blanket to Max's pull-out bed. We liked to snuggle under that blanket while we watched television. It came in handy when the kids came bounding down the basement stairs without warning.
"Oh my," she grumbled.
"Don't worry," I said to her. "I washed it last week."
Max glanced up from his shoes to shoot a wink in my direction. "Last week was a good time."
"I might not miss this part," Mallori said under her breath. "Will you guys come visit? Promise me you'll visit."
"Of course," I replied as I rolled my ties into neat coils.
"Yeah," Max agreed. "Why wouldn't we leave our sunny new apartment with non-dungeon-y bathrooms and all that unnecessary privacy to come here and get psychoanalyzed for an hour? Don't know about you, Jory, but I can't think of a single reason."
Mallori shook her head but Max didn't notice. He'd moved on to packing the shirts hanging in his closet.
"I know, I know," she said. "You want your space. You deserve that. I get it."
"We will miss you too." I caught her eye from the opposite side of the room and nodded as reassuringly as I could manage. "I mean it, Mal."
No exaggeration there. I'd lived much of the past two months in the garden apartment—as I preferred to call it—and with that came more time with Mallori. I still wasn't comfortable in anyone's home but my own, though this place had come to feel like a place where I belonged. It was also a serious upgrade from my apartment with Claude. I hated paying for something I didn't use, but life was less stressful when I woke up beside Max.
Even if I woke up to the sounds of children screeching at each other over control of the television remote at six o'clock on a Saturday morning.
Even with my things scattered across two apartments, two cars, and my classroom.
Even when all of this upheaval and transition was hell on my anxiety.
"The kids are going to miss you too," she continued.
"The kids are going to miss cockblocking me," Max muttered from the closet.
Mallori rolled her eyes at that and crossed the room, an empty box in hand. "Jory, what am I going to do without you?"
"You're probably going to have to talk to your husband again," Max said. "You remember him, right?"
"When did you get so mouthy?"
He pointed at me. "It's all his fault."
True facts. No sense disputing this.
Mallori circled the room and surveyed our work, her arms folded over her torso as she nodded at