Reece fills the coffee maker with water and adds coffee grinds from a marble canister on the counter before he answers.
“Welcome to my world.” He gestures toward Blue with his hand. “His OCD gets in an uproar and he starts to sort everything by size or shape or color or who the hell knows what. A few weeks ago it was the towels.”
“We had one white towel and sixteen gray ones,” Blue explains, shaking his head as if it’s absurdity.
“What’s wrong with one white towel?” I’m almost afraid to hear the answer.
“It’s just...unbalanced.”
Reece and I exchange a glance. He leans against the counter and shakes his head as Blue continues explaining.
“Everything was a fucking mess in the cabinets. The glasses were mixed with the coffee mugs, the salad bowls were mixed up with the ice cream bowls. The tall glasses were in the front, the short ones in the back. Why can’t you just put things back where they belong?”
His roommate shrugs. “Because it doesn’t bother me, bro. I’ve got more important shit on my mind than to worry about stacking things by color and shape. We have a maid, tell her to do it.”
“Does it really bother you that much, Blue?” I ask.
He looks at me with apology in his eyes. Like a little boy caught doing something he didn’t want anyone to see. “Not all the time. But I wanted things to be nice for you. Mismatched mugs make us look fucked up. I’m not fucked up anymore.”
“She knows we’re not a resort, man. She doesn’t give a shit about mugs.” He turns to me. “Do you?”
“No... of course not. But I can understand why he wants things to be nice.”
He’s trying to impress me, that’s all. He used to have nothing, now he has things and he wants it all nice. I don’t see any harm in that. And I absolutely hate when I have a mismatched number of socks. Where do the missing socks go? And why do they never resurface? It’s no big deal if Blue feels that way about other household items.
“I’ll help you put all this away,” I say. “Then we can have breakfast. I’m starving.”
He chews the inside of his lip and glances at all the items spread out over the counter. A moment ago he seemed so determined to tackle this self-imposed task, but now he appears overwhelmed.
“I’m going to go have a smoke first,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
I nod and watch him go out into the backyard through the French doors in the adjoining dining room.
“Does he do this a lot?” I ask Reece.
“Not really. It’s been worse since he stopped smoking weed. I think that used to calm him down.”
“It’s good that he quit, though. I’m proud of him.”
“I am too. It’s a bad scene when he uses and I’ve battled with him over it for years. I think he’s just got some anxiety issues and without the drugs to calm it down, he gets a little batshit.”
“He’s okay, though, right?” I start to put the glasses back in the cabinet, hoping I’m putting them back the way Blue wants them.
Reece sips his coffee. “Seriously? He’s brilliant. He’s better than he’s ever been. The new material he’s been writing kicks ass. And he’s actually living life now. He wants you and his daughter to be part of his life. That’s a big thing for him, to let people get close. I think he just needs to find some balance and figure out how to deal with stress without using drugs and alcohol to fix all his problems.”
“Maybe he should be on some meds for anxiety? I used to take Xanax when I was younger when my boss was a total bitch to me and stressing me out all day. It helped.”
He looks skeptical. “I don’t think he should take anything like that. He has addictive tendencies.”
“Oh.” I’m grateful his friend knows so much about him. Things I have no way of knowing. “I didn’t think of that. I’m glad he’s got you to look out for him. It means a lot.”
“We look out for each other. He’s not just my roomie and bandmate, he’s family.” He grabs a stack of bowls and places them in one of the cabinets. “That makes you family now, too, since it’s pretty obvious he’s keeping you around if you let him.”
That’s music to my ears. “I’m definitely sticking around no matter what.”
Blue comes back into the room at that exact moment. “You two talking about my fucked-up obsessions?”
“No,” I say with a smile. I touch his shoulder and crane my head up to kiss his cheek. “We’re talking about how amazing you are.” I hold up two matching black stoneware mugs. “Look. They match.”
Coffee, bagels, and donuts have always been Blue’s and my usual breakfast together. Not just because it’s cheap, easy to get, and yummy. But also because we haven’t spent many mornings together. And when we did, there were very few times we had a kitchen available to us.
Suffice to say, I didn’t know Blue liked to cook, or that he’s any good at it. But he is.
Sorting of dishes and glasses aside, he’s a master in the kitchen. I watch him with a mix of pride and amusement from the table where Reece and I sit as Blue cracks eggs perfectly with one hand, whips up pancake batter from scratch, and fries sausage and ham. He puts a plate piled high in front of me that could easily rival what I’d get at a popular pancake house—complete with whipped butter and sliced strawberries.
I blink at it, wondering how on earth I can possibly eat all this.
“I had no idea you could cook.”
“This is what happens when you’re high all night, have nothing to do, and get the munchies,” Reece says.
Blue puts a plate of food in front of Reece and laughs. “That’s sad but true. I cooked, and Reece and whoever else was crashing at our place would eat everything I made. I’d watch those cooking shows on TV for hours.” He sits next to me and winks at me. “You’re finally seeing all my hidden talents.”
Reece nods and swallows. “I’d rather not hear your hidden talents again tonight, man. I could hear you guys all the way from my wing.”
My face heats with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry....”
Blue laughs. “Don’t be sorry, he’s just jealous. And payback’s a bitch. How many times have I had to listen to your chicks yowling like cats all night?” He points his fork at Reece, who leans back in his chair and laughs.
“Yowling?” I repeat, cutting into my second pancake, which is surprisingly delicious and fluffy, flavored with a hint of vanilla. “Please tell me I don’t yowl.” I’ll die of embarrassment if I’m considered a yowler in the bedroom.
“You are definitely not a yowler, babe.”
When I first arrived, I thought hanging out with two rock stars would be uncomfortable and noisy—like staying with two teenagers. I envisioned Reece having various girlfriends in and out of the house and his bedroom. I expected the rest of the band and their friends and fans to be partying by the pool. I guess I watched too many music videos and let my imagination go wild, because Blue and Reece act just like two regular guys.
After breakfast we video chat with Lyric, and my mother stands in the background behind Lyric, trying to get a low-key glimpse of Blue. Lyric tells us she’s been practicing her harp every day, and that my father told her he’s never heard anything so beautiful in his life.
That gives me hope. Maybe my father will learn to accept Blue and me as a couple in time.
Later, Blue takes me for a drive to show me his favorite local attractions. We cruise with the windows open, rock music blasting, our hair blowing in the wind. He holds my hand and he kisses me into a frenzy at almost every red light. I feel like we’re teenagers, enjoying young innocent love together for the first time, rather than two thirty-something-year-olds who’ve shared almost a decade of dysfunction and heartache with each other.
Maybe I’m crazy, but I think we’re finally, finally, getting our new beginning.