Brick By Brick (Sequel)

Unpacking

I bounded toward the sidewalk in athletic leggings, a hoodie, and my best sneakers. A sharp breeze whipped between buildings, refusing to let go of winter. The midday sun was barely visible through grey clouds. I flipped my hood up and walked with purpose all the way down the stairs and into the tunnels. The subway smelled as it always did; bodily fluids and lost hope. And, as always, I ran up the stairs after exiting, gulping up air like a fresh glass of water.

I followed Foster's obscure instructions to "converge on the second floor of the parking garage...somewhere." I wandered in circles until I saw Jenny's borrowed SUV appear with a mattress tied on top.

I sauntered up to the driver's door. "You ready?" I asked as he stepped out of the car.

He glared curiously through his shaggy hair. "Are you?"

I shrugged, hands in my hoodie pockets. "Yeah. That's what I'm here for, right?"

He shrugged in agreement. "This car does not quite contain the entirety of my possessions. However, it does hold all the essentials."

"Makes sense. So should we go up and check out the place first? You know, to evaluate the space and figure out how we want to organize your stuff?"

"That sounds like a satisfactory plan."

"We should take some small things on the way up. Don't want to waste a trip."

"Intelligent idea." The crooked smile graced his face as he opened the hatch. I grabbed a duffel bag and he grabbed a small box. "You seem much more in tune to this area of expertise than myself."

I shrugged, inventing a vague response. "I've moved around a few times, lived out of a backpack for awhile. No biggie."

His eyebrows raised. I slipped up. I had voluntarily revealed something about myself. Don't freak out. This is how you make friends.

"What prompted the necessity to 'live out of a backpack'?" he inquired.

I tossed his question into the nearest trash can without even looking at it. "No reason."

He knew it wasn't the truth, but he didn't press me because at least he got to peek at one of my pages.

We made it up to his apartment, unlocked it with his shiny new key, and pushed inside. It was a decent sized studio apartment with a kitchen to the left, a bathroom and closet to the right, and a nice, large window in the middle. I set the duffel by the door and wandered to the window. "Wow. You've got a pretty good view."

"I do agree," he said, suddenly standing beside me.

I absorbed his new view of the Manhattan skyline alongside him. I realized after a moment that he had shifted to look at me instead of the city. I sucked in a sharp breath. "So," I said a bit too loudly, pivoting to scan the apartment, "do you have any idea what you want to do? You know, with your stuff?"

He transitioned out of his stupid trance, but allowed the full awareness of what had just happened to settle in the air around us. "I suppose we should place the mattress against the wall furthest from the kitchen. Obviously the pots and pans should reside in the kitchen, toiletries in the restroom and clothing items in the closet. Otherwise, I say we improvise as we go."

"Sure, sounds good."

First we got everything that would live outside of the main room, like the kitchen supplies, clothes, and bathroom stuff. Everything was placed near where it should go, because Foster decided we need to bring everything up first.

Next, we brought up the shelves - which, amazingly, fit perfectly in the space between the kitchen opening and window - a box of books, a bag of sheets and blankets, and a guitar.