I Want Sam Rosen To Give My Eulogy

It seems like Stella, the building manager, has finally found someone to let the large three-bedroom at the end of the hall. It’s been vacant for the whole summer, which was nice. The floor only has 2 other 1 bedroom apartments, so it’s been you and Mr.Callahan for the better part of 3 months. He’s a septuagenarian and hardly makes any noise, so it's been akin to having the entire 4th floor to yourself and it's been too short-lived for your taste. To say you were delighted when the last tenants moved out is an understatement. You haven’t had to vie for the elevator, wake up to any loud music, or have a sneezing fit- which aroused your suspicion of a contraband feline residing nearby. You’re sad to have it come to an end, but maybe they’ll quiet down once they move in. 

Rolling over, you wedge your face in between your pillows, successfully blocking the sound and falling back into a gentle doze. 

______

Two weeks later, you’re sitting on the rooftop deck, lounging like a dog in the sun, sipping an iced-coffee from the cafe down the street and reading a magazine when the rooftop door opens to a boisterous duo, mid-conversation. 

“Brady will do it again this year. You watch. No way he retires, he’s got too much left in him. Guy’s an animal-” they’re both tall, but the sandy haired one is loud, clearly from Boston- his R’s dropping at the end of his words, making “Year,” sound wrong to your ears, attuned for New York City. 

“I’m not doubting him, man. He’s just getting up there,” they sit at the table next to you, clad in swim-suits, clearly about to use the pool- the paint is chipped and worn, but the water is crystal blue and chlorinated enough that even the unwashed masses of the city can’t sully it. The small pool is your favorite perk of the aged building.

Hiding your eyes behind your sunglasses, you size them up. They're young, likely in their twenties and they're both fit as hell, thick and muscled. Not a bad sight, but you'd hate to leer, so you go back to your magazine, only half paying attention to the chatter next to you as it moves from sport to sport before they finally walk towards the water.

It's cold, you know it's freezing, which is why you’ve chosen to tan and not float around in the water. One of the kids in the building had an accident in it last weekend; it had to be drained and cleaned and it hasn't had the time to warm up yet. It seemed almost silly to refill it now, since there's barely two weeks left of summer, but who are you to complain?

“Jesus Christ!” You can’t really hold back the laughter even though you try, so a choked snort makes its way out despite your best efforts. The sandy haired one is only in the water up to his knees and the darker haired one hasn’t even started his descent down the pool steps yet, and you don’t want to be the creep eavesdropping and gawking, so you pull your magazine up a little higher over your face to hide. 

“You could have warned us! It’s fuckin’ ice cold,” he retreats up the steps and sits back in his chair on the deck. “I’m Kevin, I just moved here. This is Brady.” Kevin sticks his hand out to shake, and you drop Cosmopolitan onto the wire table in front of you to meet his grip. 

His handshake is strong and warm. “Here, New York, or here, this building?” you ask after giving him your name. Brady leans in after Kevin, hand outstretched, so you shake his too. 

“This building. I’ve been in New York a couple-a years now. But we just moved to this building a few weeks ago. We’re down on 4; us and our buddy Jimmy.” You nod and tell him you’re on 4 too, but then his phone rings and it’s Jimmy and he has pizza. They invite you down to eat, but you decline, wanting to soak up as much summer as possible before the weather turns biting and fall’s crisp air rolls into the city. 

“Nice to meet you! We’ll see you around. Don’t be a stranger!” They wave jovially as they continue through the rooftop door. They seem nice enough. Saving your magazine from the condensation sweating down your coffee cup, you pick up where you left off - “How to Find a Normal Dude on a Dating App,” and wonder how they can possibly pass the same garbage off as something new each month.

______

It’s 2 o’ clock in the morning, according to the glance you give at your way-too-bright phone, and you hear the scraping of a key in your lock. It’s scary because your building is generally safe, and you can count on one hand the number of people who have a copy of your key- Stella the building manager, your elderly neighbor Mr. Callahan, and one ex who you ended it with over 6 months ago. The latter is the only one that makes sense since you know Stella leaves by 8pm each evening and Mr. Callahan is in bed shortly after his early-bird dinner at 4pm. 

If it is someone with malicious intent, they’re certainly not trying to sneak in, they’re cursing loudly and wrenching the knob that refuses to turn. The console table next to your front door houses your keyring, equipped with a small can of mace, so you grab it before checking the peephole. 

“Kevin are you fucking kidding me?” You unlock the door and yank it open to Kevin’s sleepy face on the other side. His eyes are droopy and his smile is lopsided. 

“Heyyyy, what are you doing at our house?!” You’ve seen Kevin around often since meeting him and Brady at the pool a few weeks ago. He’s always coming to or from the gym, or grabbing take-out, or the bar- which is probably the case right now. Kevin is good people, so you can’t find yourself getting too mad at the disturbance. 

Pocketing your keys in your robe, you join him in the hallway. “This isn’t your house, you dweeb. It’s mine,” he looks slightly confused before spinning around in the hall at his surroundings. 

“I see the problem now,” you’re not sure that he actually sees much of anything, since he looks a little worse for the wear right now, but he looks down to the floor before smiling back up at you, “your doormat should have tipped me off… we definitely never bought a doormat.”

He’s wobbly at best, so you grab him by the elbow and steer him towards his door. “Your boys home? Who’s going to tuck you in, bud? Make sure you have some water and get to bed okay?” Kevin is having a hard time with his keys, so you take the tangled ring and try a few before giving up and knocking loudly. 

“Hey!! I have something that belongs to you!” Kevin giggles and rests his forehead against the wall next to the door. 

The locks on the other side make a metallic jerking noise before the door is yanked open. You assume it’s the elusive 3rd roommate, Jimmy, since it’s certainly not Brady. Kevin has mentioned him in passing, but your paths haven’t crossed yet in the few weeks since they’ve moved in. 

He sighs and steps out into the hallway to get a look at Kevin. “You’re kidding me. How did you even make it home?”

“He didn’t,” you interject, “well… he made it to the building and then he tried to get into my apartment. Damn near maced him. He scared the crap out of me.” Jimmy seems to notice you for the first time. 

He looks a little sheepish when he responds, “I’m so sorry, he’s harmless really. Just drank a bit too much, I’m sorry he woke you up. We’re still pretty new to the building, he must have been confused.”

You smile, “It’s okay. I live down the hall and we met a few weeks ago. Good for him actually… it’s bear mace, so...” Kevin is still leaning heavy against the wall when you look over at him. 

“Oh, yeah- Brady mentioned you, I think. (y/n)?” Jimmy leans against the door jamb, arms crossed, and smiles- warm, like it’s not an inconvenience for you to be knocking on his door dragging an inebriated friend home to be taken care of. 

“That’s me…” you pause, not really wanting to get into a conversation at this time of night, the siren song of your soft bed and warm covers calling you back, “Do you think you can give him some water? Maybe some aspirin and make sure he gets to bed?”

Jimmy nods slowly as you talk, before the words seem to land and he nods more vigorously. “Oh, yeah of course… I am sorry, though- again. Thanks for getting him home, I got him from here,” he pulls Kevin over the threshold of the apartment, but doesn’t follow him down the hallway yet. 

“I’m Jimmy, by the way- nice to meet you and thanks again for not pepper spraying Kev.” You step one foot backwards, still looking in Jimmy’s direction. 

“Anytime, Jim. Make sure he survives the night.”

Jimmy smiles and salutes, “You got it. See you around, (y/n)” with one last wave, he closes the door and you finally head back to bed, knocking out as soon as you hit the pillow. 

______

Sunday morning you sleep in until 10, you feel like you’ve earned it after your night was interrupted however, Sundays are also for cleaning, so while your coffee is brewing, you pick a playlist on your phone and turn it on, loud enough that you can hear it throughout your apartment, but low enough to not bother Mr.Callahan through the thin walls. 

You’re halfway through cleaning out your fridge, dumping expired items into the garbage pail and making a grocery list for things to replenish, when there’s a sharp knock on your door. It’s not like you’re expecting company, so you glance at the mirror in the bathroom to make sure you’re decent before checking the peephole and opening the door to Jimmy. 

“Good morning,” you’re cheery, invigorated by the 2 cups of coffee you’ve downed so far and the adrenaline from being productive pumping through your veins.  

He has a brown paper bag in his hand, and he smiles, a small blush high on his cheekbones, and you can tell he’s much more reserved than Kevin, who is gregarious, loud, and boisterous each and every time you’ve bumped him since the very first day you met. 

“Uh, hey. Good morning. Hope I’m not bothering you-” he pauses and looks for permission to continue. You didn’t notice last night, half asleep and bleary, but he has the same accent as Kevin and you peg him as a Bostonian as well. 

Shaking your head you assure him, “Not at all. It’s daytime, that’s typically when visitors are expected. Let Kevin know, I don’t think he’s heard.” You smile and he huffs out a small chuckle.

He hands the paper bag over to you. “Just wanted to thank you again for being so cool about last night. Kev had a rough week and he felt like shit this morning when he realized what happened. He’s still sleeping it off, but just a little peace offering.”

The bag has the logo of the cafe down the street, where you frequently grab coffees and breakfast when you’re running late for work. “I just grabbed some bagels and a bacon, egg, and cheese. Heard that’s the way to a New Yorker’s heart…” he stops awkwardly as you unroll the top of the bag, and peer inside, “You’re not a vegan or anything are you… I didn’t even think about that. Hope it’s oka-”

“It’s great, Jimmy. Did you want to come in? There’s a ton of food here and I just made a fresh pot of coffee.” You step to the side and hold the door open, giving him a clear path into the house. 

He smiles again, it lifts up higher on one side of his mouth. “One cup can’t hurt I guess,” he steps in past you, nose leading him to the coffee pot on the counter. 

______

Jimmy stays for a few hours, he’s easy to talk to, quieter than Kevin, but you can immediately tell he’s got a sharp wit and it comes out the longer he sits in your kitchen, hat backwards and refilling his cup whenever it gets low. You start off talking about Kevin over your bagels and coffee, before devolving into how they know each other (distant cousins who grew up in Boston- you were right about the accent), and then he’s happy to talk about back home, opening up a little and telling you all the best spots in town, “I’m a local, so you know they’re good. You can’t go off google, that’s not authentic,” and defending ‘Dunks’ against all other coffee in the known world. 

“An extra extra? What the hell is that?” You’re topping off his coffee, grabbing the sugar canister off the counter and putting it on the table in front of him. 

“Extra cream, extra sugar. Why, what do you call it here?” 

“Fucking disgusting?” You laugh at your own joke, adding milk to your coffee, “Light and sweet I guess? Tell me something else in Boston.” His posture is relaxed as he leans back in his chair and starts talking about the Harvard Library, of all things. 

You’re happy with how Jimmy opens up sitting in your kitchen on a Sunday morning- chore list forgotten with both of your dishes sitting in the sink. You haven’t felt self conscious for one second even though you’re in your pajamas, hair in a sloppy bun on your head as you compare childhoods in the largest cities on the eastern seaboard. 

The conversation has turned to Game of Thrones, and he’s putting up a pretty good argument for you to start binging it, “I swear it’s like a movie every week. The production value is incredible,” when there’s a knock on your door. 

“More people have knocked on this damned door in the last 12 hours than have in the last 3 years. Sorry Jim, one sec- let me see who that is.” It’s equal parts surprising and unsurprising when you see Kevin on the other side of the peephole. The easy choice is to let him in, turn back around, and walk him to the kitchen as he stammers out his apologies, trailing behind you. 

“Jimmy apologizes better. He brought food,” You take your seat across from Jimmy at your small kitchen table again, as Kevin looks visibly shocked to see Jimmy there, one eyebrow making its way up in question. Jimmy immediately turns bright red when he meets Kevin’s eye. 

He makes himself at home, leaning against your counter and opening up the paper bag before selecting a bagel. “Butter in the fridge?” you nod and he helps himself. “I was wondering where you went, bro. I’ve been up for hours and you haven’t answered one text. I was about to head to the gym to look for you.”

Picking his phone up, Jimmy grits his teeth, “Ah, sorry. Time got away from me. I was supposed to be training, but I stopped by to apologize- for your dumb ass by the way- and we got to talking, I didn’t check my phone.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Kevin tells him it’s no big around the bitten off hunk of bagel wedged in his cheek. “You got plans today, (y/n)?” He chews heartily before you shake your head no, and Kevin lists off about five things that he wants to do, clearly no longer plagued by a hangover. Jimmy meets your eye and you shrug.