John O'Donnell

Someone was knocking at the door. I teeter out of bed, walk downstairs, and meet the Fed Ex guy.

"Sign here, please." He hands me a pen.

I try to sign, but for some reason I write "M" even though my name is "Jenny." I keep going, and the letters are still coming out wrong. What is wrong with me?? The Fed Ex guy is going to think I'm a fraud. One more time. At least get the last name right. "T-A-M" I spell in my head. "J" spills forth on the line. Hold up. The last time this happened -

Knok-knock-knock. That's right. I'm still fucking in bed. Let me get up for real now. I zip downstairs, and lo and behold, it is Mr. Fed Ex. I sign like a pro, take the box, and jam inside. What could it be?

I tear open the tab, and inside a layer of bubble plastic is a black backpack. Strange. I never ordered one. I turn the flap over to make sure that my name is on the addressee part. Cool, I could use a backpack. I stuff a couple of stray books into it and feel like a college kid. Back to sleep.

Knock-knock. What now?

I'm beginning to regret living in a duplex. I stagger down to the door, and meet a grinning John.

"Get the backpack I sent ya?"

"Yes." I walk inside.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Do you like it?"

"Sure."

"Are you gonna use it?"

"Mm hmm."

"Aren't you going to ask me where I got it?"

"Where did you get it?"

"I won it from Nest Egg."

Great, I win a backpack I never signed up for and now have to babysit John for a day.

"What do you want to do?"

"I dunno." He kicks his shoes off. "Arcade?" He knows I hate the arcade.

Sigh. What am I going to do with you, John? John, whose mom left the minute he turned eighteen. John, who invites himself over every other day.

"Let's go." I grab my keys.

We cruise Hollywood, stop for tacos, and do my errands.

"Why do we always do what you want to do?" He talks over a bundle of laundry.

"Because it's always about me." I smile.

"Fine." He's actually a sweet guy. I wonder if I'll meet anyone like him in New York.

"Still going to New York?"

"Yup," I say with extra confidence.

"I don't think New York's the town for you."

"I'm not going there because it's the town for me. I'm going there for work."

"There are plenty of jobs here."

"Not that pay a grand a week."

"Iono." His face turns sour. "Watch you come back after two weeks 'John, I can't take the weather!'"

I know you don't want me to go. That's why I haven't told you that I got the apartment in SoHo. We fold the rest of my laundry, and toss it into the basket. "Hey, can you transfer everything from my computer onto my laptop?"

"Sure. What's wrong with your desktop?"

"It's about had it." I lie. While waiting for the files to upload, he shows me the latest Seinfeld clips. I pretend to laugh.

Ba-boop. The documents are done uploading, and he closes the window. "Okay, I guess I'll go home. See ya."

"Bye, John." He closes the door.

I have a dream. I'm in New York, realizing that I'm gone forever and didn't even say 'bye.' I lie there awake. Why am I so bothered?

Knock-knock. I open the door.

"Got any sugar?" John smirks. It's so normal to see John. I make him tea, only half listening to his jokes. He knows I'm not there but pretends not to notice. As we sip on tea, I imagine him not there.

Snap. "Hel-loo?"

Huh? "I was thinking of Mani- sorry."

"Is she and baby okay?"

"Yea."

"You miss her, don't you?"

I nod. A wave of sadness rushes over me, and I almost burst out with "I'm leaving in two weeks." But I don't. I just stare.

"Let's go," I hop up and we head out the door. We stop at Target for boxes. Little does John know. I treat for Chinese take-out, and he seems to be in an especially good mood. I can't figure out if he's that way because I'm sad.

At my house, he watches Adult Swim while I do the dishes.

"Why do you only do that when I'm here?"

It's true. I always feel the need to do something when he's around.

"No clue." I turn my back to him. Ouch ouch ouch.

I've decided. I think I'm going to have to wait. Not on NY, but on telling John. I'm going to let the door answer next time. I'm sorry, John.