Let's Waste Time

On Wednesday night, 81 with the black door, or Chris, came over at exactly six PM. I was ready for him this time and had thankfully finished work when I was supposed to. He brought Chinese food with him. We set it up on the coffee table before the TV, and he handed me a beer. We didn’t waste time with small talk because Lord of the Rings was serious business. We got the movie started before ever speaking a word.

“So tell me about yourself,” he said, picking at his box with chopsticks.

“Like what?”

“Like growing up in Napa and stuff. Tell me about your family.” This was actually harder to explain than the boyfriend situation.

“Um—we’re not really that close. I was only close to my dad, and he died a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I shrugged.

“That’s life, I guess.”

“So you have a thing for Bob Marley?” he asked, nodding toward the poster above the TV. “I’m noticing a theme here.” I laughed.

“That would be my dad again. He loved music. Was going through a Bob Marley phase when my older brother and I were born. So his name is actually Zig. He hates it. He was going through a classical phase when my sister was born. So he named her Luna. And then my youngest brother is just named Brian. So I think my mom kind of stepped in by that point. But to be fair, Marley is fairly average compared to Zig and Luna.” He smiled.

“That’s pretty cool, actually. My family was never very creative with names. Just Christopher and Rachel. We even had a cat named George.”

“Honestly, it was my dad who was the creative one. Not my mom. If it were up to her, we’d all be Brians and Rachels. Not that there’s anything wrong with those names. Just that my mom has the personality of a stale piece of white bread.”

“You must take after your dad then.” I understood that it was meant as a compliment.

“Well, he’s not my biological dad anyway. That’s kind of why I’m not close to my family. I was the only one who wasn’t actually his.”

“Oh—Well, still. You said you were close. So he must have made an impact.” I nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh yeah, for sure. My family was kind of shitty to me for not having the same dad as everyone else. I mean—the circumstances surrounding my birth were kind of shady, so they singled me out. But my dad never wanted me to feel excluded. So he tried to include me and ended up spending more time with me than the others. Which just made them hate me even more.”

“That sounds—really shitty, actually.” I shrugged again.

“It’s whatever.” I laughed half-heartedly as if that would make it sound like it didn’t bother me. It did, of course. But it wasn’t something I wanted to go into detail about.

“Have you ever met your biological dad then?” he wondered.

“Well, no—he kind of raped my mom, Chris.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s alright.”

“I mean—it makes sense now. But that’s still not a good reason to treat you like shit.” I didn’t say anything. Instead, I dug around my rice container, hoping he’d change the subject soon. It was my fault for bringing it up. But it was one of those things that sometimes spilled out of my mouth to make things awkward and uncomfortable.

“What about you?” I decided to ask. “Any weirdos in your family tree?” He laughed, and the tension drained from the room.

“Just me. Never done anything awful but a raging disappointment with every breath. You know the drill. Basic suburban white family with two kids, a family dog, a cat named George, and a divorce. When the son quits college, it’s to get back at his parents because there’s no other reason a guy would leave college. The usual cliché.”

“That’s not really why you left school, right?” He scoffed.

“Hell no. I went to school to play baseball. I wasn’t cut out for accounting. Couldn’t keep my grades up. But my parents look for any excuse to fight each other. So they attribute my failure to their marital problems.”

“That sounds like basically every teen movie in the nineties.” He laughed.

“Told you. Couldn’t get more boringly basic if we had a dog named Spot. I do have an uncle who was a conman, though. That’s a fun story to tell at barbecues.”

“Please tell me you didn’t have a dog named Spot.” He smiled and took a sip of his beer.

“The dog’s name is actually Moneypenny. MP for short,” he admitted.

“That’s good. I was hoping you were more original than that.”

“Oh, I am. I’m the weirdo in the family, remember?”

“So you named your dog after a James Bond character?”

“I thought it was cool. I was like sixteen.”

“I think you might be a bit of a nerd, 81.” He looked at me as if I’d said something unheard of. But so dramatically that it was obvious he was just being a goober.

“Tell me it’s not true?” I laughed and shook my head. I’d misjudged him. Under that jocky exterior, he was a big dork who named his pets after fictional characters and bought Harry Potter keychains.

“I had a cat named Jem once. From Jem and the Holograms. I was really into it when I was a kid.” He laughed and stuck his empty pink plate onto the table. Then he stretched his legs out, taking up more space than my couch was used to.

“I think you might be a bit of a nerd, 81a,” he finally said.

“No shit.” He reached for his beer again. The smile was easy.

“So, do you have any other pets? Or just the fish?” He nodded toward the bookcase pushed up beside the large window. My goldfish swam around in his aquarium, reflecting the light from the streetlamps outside the window.

“Just the fish. His name is Ultra Pepe,” I told him.

“That’s an amazing name for a fish.”

“I thought so too. He’s honestly the best roommate I’ve ever had. Small and silent. Never questions my life choices. Doesn’t mind if I come home late or leave things on the floor. Shorter attention span than me.”

“The best kind of roommate to have.”

“Do you have a roommate?” He shook his head and rested his arm on the back of the couch. He tapped the bottle against the sofa like a nervous twitch.

“Just MP. He lives with my dad, though. I want to get a bigger place before I bring him home.” I nodded.

“Dogs are good roommates too. Not everyone can be as lucky as me with Ultra Pepe, but dogs are a close second.”

“Definitely top five.”

After the movie, I cleaned up the mess we’d made on the table. Chris decided to take the leftover rice, and I took the noodles. We handed them out between us by the front door.

“I have to work on Friday, and I have a game on Saturday,” he told me as we tried to balance boxes. He towered above me, so I had to crane my neck to see his face. “But I’m free on Sunday if you want to watch the next one.”

“Yeah, sure. I work weekdays and every other Saturday. Just let me cover dinner this time since you did the last two times. Anything you like in particular?”

“I’m not picky. But I’m an herbivore. Surprise me.”

“Well, technically, you’re an omnivore, but you’re not vegan, I’m guessing. I’ve seen you eat cheese.”

“Not vegan. Just no meat, if that’s cool.”

“That’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

“Good deal. See you on Sunday.”

“Bye.” He nodded with another one of those ‘Teen heartthrob on the CW’ smiles and then disappeared out the door.