Mom: Emo, me? Ha! I’m the first to support my children on whatever their career choices are. I’m all for you leaving the nest so I can get my life back.
Josh: You say that but you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone
Seema: Mom never tells us how much she misses us, but I did catch her putting away your clothes when you were in training Josh.
Josh: Knew it! Mom you promised not to fiddle around with my stuff
Mom: I was only putting your washed clothes in their place.
Josh: Mom you promised not to come into my room
Mira: Don’t worry, Mom knows that you watch pron.
Me: Ewww, can we not have this conversation? Or at least not in front of Mom.
Mom: I’d rather you not hide anything from me. And it’s not that I don’t know about your smutty books, either
Me: Wait what?
Mom: You do realize you share your Kindle with me?
Me: What? No I don’t!
I scramble up from the bed to snatch my laptop from my bag.
Mom: Relax. Of course you don’t share your Kindle with me. Just kidding.
Me: MOM!
Mom: Sorry, couldn’t resist. But you think I don’t know that all four of my kids are now sexually active and—
Mira: Okay bye
Seema: *face palm emoji* I’m gone, too.
Josh: *hand waving emoji*
Me: Bye, Mom.
I log out of the chat, then drop my phone on the side table. My family can be crazy, but I do miss them and their sense of humor. When we’re together, we’re always kidding each other and our group chats are often hilarious. It never fails to perk me up. I glance at the other side of the bed. The pillow is slightly indented. I lower my nose to it and sniff. The faint trace of detergent reaches me. Even though I’d been dreaming of JJ, I’d been so sure Isaac was in bed with me, but that doesn’t smell like him. Where is Isaac anyway?
I swing my legs off of the bed, pull on a pair of yoga pants, T-shirt and socks, then creep down the steps. When I hit the landing of the ground floor, I hear voices. I head toward them, past the kitchen where the lights are ablaze, past the dimly lit conservatory and the living room, and into the study. I pause at the entrance, then rub my eyes.What the—? Am I still dreaming?Maybe I’m stuck inside one of those dreams where you think you woke up and started doing regular things, only to wake up a bit later and realize you’d been sleeping.
I find JJ and Isaac seated at a side table. The same one where I’d noticed the open game of chess. They’re seated across from each other, an ashtray on the side. Both have a cigar stuck between their lips. As I watch, JJ pulls out the cigar and lifts his head. The tendons of his gorgeous neck tighten, then he blows out a perfect smoke ring. He clamps the cigar between his lips again as he considers the chess pieces in front of him.
Isaac moves a piece. He must capture one of JJ’s because he fist pumps. "Yes! Got you!"
"Only because I let you," JJ growls. His eyebrows draw down and he focuses on the board.
Isaac shoves the hair back from his face. The gesture is so familiar, a ball of emotion clogs my throat. How many times have I watched him do that when he’s focused on playing a video game or cleaning his brushes? Or sometimes, when he looks through the viewfinder of his camera and asks me to push the hair off of his forehead so it doesn’t interfere with his shot.
Isaac lowers the cigar from between his lips, then takes a long drink from his tumbler of whiskey. He wipes the back of his hand across his lips. "Goddamn, JJ, this whiskey gets better with every mouthful."
"It’s the best there is," JJ says simply. He moves a piece on the board, taking out one of Isaac's pieces this time.
"Fuck," Isaac swears.
"I’ve got a lot of life in me, boy." JJ smirks.