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UNCLAIMED BAGGAGE

I notice a small, black wheeled suitcase sitting on Timmy’s bed, its presence oddly out of place in his and Matty’s cramped, shared bedroom.

“Why is this suitcase here? Going somewhere?” I ask, half-joking, half-curious.

He pauses, frowns slightly, and then just shrugs. “Oh, it’s my friend’s from when she visited. She left it here. I keep asking her to pick it up, but she won’t.”

“So, some girl stayed with you and her suitcase is on your bed? That seems… a bit weird.”

Timmy laughs it off, brushing away my concern with a flick of his hand. “Yeah, well, it’s the only place to really put it. This apartment is too small, you can see that. It’s no big deal.”

He gestures around, and to be fair, the apartment is cluttered—almost comically full of random things.

I’m actually surprised and impressed by the constant variety of items Timmy keeps pulling out of his jam-packed closet to show me.. Hats, clothing, random home decor items. He’s like one of those magicians that keeps pulling an endless string of brightly colored handkerchiefs out of his sleeve .

Still, something about the suitcase bothers me. Where did this friend of his sleep? How long did she stay? Why is her stuff still here? He shrugs it off, but I can’t shake the weird feeling creeping over me. I press my lips together, but don’t say anything more.

“She’s like my evil twin,” he says after a moment, grinning. “I call her ‘The Worst’, because if you turned me into a girl and magnified all my bad qualities, you’d get her.”

I don't really know what to say, so I keep quiet.

“She’s actually super annoying,” he adds with a smirk. “But I kicked her out, so she’s gone now. Thank god. I’m glad she’s out of my hair. She’s so annoying to be around after more than five minutes.”

It’s a weird way to talk about a friend, but I don’t respond.

I try to laugh along instead, but the whole thing feels off. And I’ve noticed her nickname, ‘Worst’, popping up on his phone more than a few times. He doesn’t answer, but she’s the only person who really seems to call him other than his boss.

Before I can dwell on it too much, Timmy pulls me back into the moment.

“Here’s the mattress—well, two technically—I’m going to lend you,” he says. “These ones underneath the top one. It’s brand new, like I said, from one of the condos we were renovating.”

“Oh wow, thank you. Are you really sure?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m not giving it to you. Just lending it.”

“Oh okay. Well, thank you so much!” It’s really nice of him. I try to focus on his generosity, how kind it is of him to help me out.

As we load the mattress onto his truck, he expertly throws it on top and ratchets it down, securing it. Which is one of those really hot handyman types of things a guy can do.

But as we drive back to my apartment building, I can’t help but think how large of a gesture this is for someone I’ve literally only started seeing a day ago. It’s thoughtful, sure… but also I don’t know—a little much. It’s something I’d have real trouble moving by myself, and I can’t help but feel it’s another way he’s becoming embedded in my life very quickly.

“It feels like you’re moving in here or something!” I joke nervously as he unties the straps holding it to the vehicle and we load the mattress onto a cart at my apartment building.

“No, no, not yet,” he laughs. “Although, I mean, I’d love to spend night after night with you. I figure you can buy a base to go under this, and then this can be the main bed we stay in when I’m over here with you.”

My heart skips a beat. There’s something flattering about how much he wants to be around me—but again, it’s a lot.

“Oh, okay!” I say. “That makes sense. Thank you for helping me get all set up. I was a bit overwhelmed when I arrived. You’ve helped me a lot.”

“No problem at all. It’s fun helping you pick things out,” he beams.

He wanders around the apartment, checking out some of my stuff. He points at my roller skates. “The famous skates from the video you sent!”

I nod. “Yep, those are the ones.”

He picks up two dolls that look like me. “What are these ?”

I laugh. “Long story. These are my creepy Margaux dolls. I helped bail someone out of jail, a mad scientist type. And afterward, he saw these at a Goodwill and thought they looked so much like me he bought like five and sent them all to me.”

Timmy cracks up laughing. “That’s hilarious, oh my god. I’m going to take one with me if that’s okay with you. It can live in the truck.”

I shrug. “Okay! Just don’t do any voodoo on it.”

“I promise I won’t.” His voice changes to a mock-serious tone. “But listen—no letting any other guys sleep on these mattresses, though, okay? Only me.”

I laugh, trying to shake off the weird feeling that’s creeping up again. “Okay, I guess I’m stuck with you then.”

Timmy narrows his eyes at me, a playful but intense look in them.

I quickly add, “I’m happily stuck with you,” to smooth over the moment .

He smirks back, clearly pleased. “Good. Just how I want it to be.”

I smile, but the way he says it… something makes me feel like I’ve just made a deal, but I have no idea what the terms are.