In the end, it was the closet space that decided things.
Strange, perhaps, that such a momentous decision (or what turned out to be such a momentous decision) was made entirely on the basis of closet space, but history is full of big moments that hinged on small choices. And both Erin and Janice wanted a lot of closet space.
They were sitting in a Chinese restaurant, with the Kung Pao Chicken pushed up precariously against the edge of the table to make room for the rate estimates and the parking costs and the change-of-address forms and the various and sundry bits and pieces of paper that accompanied the decision to get an apartment together. Both of them were laughing a lot.
"--and I'm not going to Crescent Heights! I'm sorry, but that woman had paisley everywhere! God, it was like living inside a giant microbe!"
"Well, I do think they redecorate..."
"I don't think you can redecorate past paisley! I think it seeps into your consciousness, and before you know it, there's suddenly this maddened urge to put up paisley drapes, to re-upholster your sofa, and then you start painting those weird swirly things on your face and talk about how the Paisley People are coming and we have to prepare the human sacrifices! I don't want to live like that, Janice. I don't."
Janice was beet-red, gasping with laughter. She'd utterly lost it somewhere around the words 'Paisley People', and it took her several seconds to calm back down. "OK," she finally gasped out. "So Crescent Heights is out. Any objections to Morningside Views?"
Erin smirked. "Apart from the fact that everyone there was a lesbian?"
Janice batted her on the shoulder. "Hush! This is the twenty-first century, now; you know, political correctness and all that? Besides, we don't know that everyone there was a lesbian..."
Erin gave her a look of calculated disbelief. "The landlady was checking out my ass."
Janice rolled her eyes skyward. "If this turns into another discussion about how inadequate your ass is, I swear that I will--"
"Easy for you to say," Erin grumbled. "You've got a great ass. But no, I'm serious. Everyone in that building was a lesbian! We walked past...what, three apartments, and we saw two female couples? There was another one in the lobby, too. I mean, I'm not opposed, but it was just odd. It's not like Minneapolis is San Francisco or something."
"Actually, I read an article in City Pages, and--"
"We are?"
"Yep. We're like the San Francisco of the Midwest."
"Ooh, that should be a new city motto. 'Minneapolis: San Francisco of the Midwest!' Or how about 'Minneapolis: Like Saint Paul, But With Gays!'" Janice had picked a bad time to take a drink of her pop, and spent another few moments coughing.
"So that's a 'no' on Morningside Views, then?"
"I didn't say that!" Erin responded. "I mean, OK, sure...everyone there is a lesbian. But I don't think that's actually part of the rental agreement, is it? 'Renters agree to boink each other.' I think we can live there without being gay...and that place had more closet space than God. Plus, it had a nice vibe. Comfortable."
"Not like that place in St. Louis Park...what was it called? Palace Apartments?"
"Something like that. The place with the landlord who looked like he was auditioning for the community theater production of 'Silence of the Lambs'. Brrr..."
*****
Erin's arms were numb, her feet were sore, she had three long scratches from where the edge of a bookshelf caught her, and her shirt felt like it was glued to her body with sweat. "OK," she muttered to herself, "now I know why Janice hates moving..." Especially in summer. Ick. People who thought Minnesota was always cold should try living there. She scratched at yet another mosquito bite (obtained while in the driveway of her parents' house, telling them yet again that she loved them, and that she just needed her own space now that she was out of college, and that of course she'd call them, and that it was only ten miles, and that she'd stop by every week, and that she'd give them the new phone number as soon as she got it...it was a wonder she wasn't drained dry.) Still, she'd gotten plenty of help from Kev--pretty nice of him, especially since they'd only been dating for a month. And she had to admit, he looked excessively hunky in the little tank top he was wearing...
First things first, she decided. Shower, then sleep--the bed was set up, and as far as she was concerned, everything else could wait until she was awake, alert, and air-conditioned (the apartment had air-conditioning! she exulted silently. No more sweating the summer away!)
After a quick shower in lukewarm water (there'd be plenty of time to figure out how to make it hotter, she muttered to herself), she bid a sleepy farewell to Janice, who was still unpacking, slipped off her robe, and collapsed onto the bed. By the time she was under the covers, she was already asleep.
*****
They were at an amusement park, but it wasn't one she recognized. She'd been there, though. She knew she had. Several times. It was one of their favorite places to go together. Ever since they'd become a couple.
She couldn't remember when they'd become a couple. They were just there, holding hands, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. They strolled down the midway together, and she saw a game with a stuffed whale as the prize. She recognized the whale from when she was five...she'd lost it on a trip to the family cabin, up north, but somehow the amusement park had gotten it, and now she had to win it.
"Janice," she said, "can you win me that stuffed whale?"
Janice said, "You know that all the games here are rigged."
"But you know all the tricks."
Janice smiled, in that knowing way, and walked over to the man at the prize counter. He explained the rules of the game, but she didn't follow them. They seemed so complicated to her, but Janice just nodded. She picked up the ring with the cross on the end, and threw it at the other ring with the cross on the end, and they hooked together, and the man gave her the stuffed whale, and she'd never been so happy, here at the amusement park with Janice...
