Nick slipped the key in the deadbolt of his storefront abode, careful not to drop the blue plastic bag looped over the wrist of his right hand. As the bolt clicked over, he pushed the door open with his left elbow and carefully spun through the doorway. As he stepped through, a loud, chiming version of what he recognized as the theme song to the old Alfred Hitchcock TV show blared through the room. It was undoubtedly used in the store's past to alert the former proprietors of incoming customers, but it made Nick wonder what kind of shop used to occupy the storefront. At this point, it was just unneeded noise as far as he was concerned.
He strode through the room, straight to the back counter where he set the plastic bags. He flexed his wrist and fingers before reaching into one of the bags and removing a bunch of asparagus and a head of broccoli. If someone would have told him a month ago that he would willingly be buying such greenery, he'd have laughed. But living on his own had opened him up to new things. And that included getting his daily dose of veggies. He walked the produce to the left end of the counter where the small, white mini fridge sat caddy corner where the counter met the wall. He removed a bottle of water from the fridge, and placed the vegetables inside. Taking a drink of water, he pulled a large, glass bowl that was sitting atop the fridge and brought it down towards the rest of his groceries. Empting the plastic bags, he filled the bowl with apples, oranges, and bananas, before sliding it back down the counter.
Nick sighed as he collected the empty bags. He realized it was probably time to invest in one of those large, reusable canvas bags like Jess always used to use on their trips to the market. Just that day he had received dirty looks from some rather judgmental 'greener than thou' types that frequented the kale stand. Nick hated those types. In fact, he didn't much like any of the 'types' he came across at the market. But it was located along the short walk between the bar and his new home, so the convenience factor couldn't be ignored. And if he were honest with himself, he kept going back for another, simpler reason. Somewhere deep inside, he held out some small hope that one day he might just run into Jess. Shaking his head, he shoved the bags into a drawer in the counter, and turned to face his apartment.
It had been nearly two weeks since he's moved out of the loft. More importantly, it had been nearly two weeks since he'd seen or spoken to Jess. He shook the thought from his head and took another drink before grabbing an apple from the bowl and rinsing it off in the deep, commercial sink in the middle of the counter. He shook the excess water from the piece of fruit, then ran it across the front of his grey hoodie, finishing the job. As he took a bite, he fished his phone from his pocket to check the time. It was nearing 6 pm. Probably about another hour or so before he would start readying his dinner.
Nick took a deep breath as he stepped toward the center of the room. Over time, he had carved something resembling a proper apartment out of Schmidt's belongings. On the far left of the apartment, Nick had neatly arranged and stacked all of the stuff he felt he had no use for. The piano, a pair of black, leather swivel chairs, a red… couchy-type… thing, and several pieces of almost certainly overpriced artwork. At the center of the room was a long, grey couch, bookended by two small, silver end tables. Upon each end table was a short, horizontally shaded lamp, far too chic for Nick's taste.
Nick moved over to the couch and sat down, setting his water on the wooden coffee table in front of him. He looked intently at the water for a moment before sighing, reaching into the drawer of the coffee table, and removing a coaster. He slipped the coaster under the water and then reached under the coffee table to retrieve his laptop, which he opened and sat on the table. He powered up the computer, took another bite of his apple, and leaned back on the couch. As Nick rested his eyes and waited for his computer to wake up, he thought back on the past few weeks.
Too embarrassed to ask Schmidt for the code to the security system, Nick had instead started to work exclusively during the day. The tips weren't as good, but the lack of income was fairly offset by Nick's lack of spending. Even though Jess made more money than Nick, and even though she insisted on keeping their spending as even as possible, he had tried to treat her as often as she would let him. And there is just no way around it: not having a girlfriend was cheaper than having one. But Nick had kept to the day shift for another reason, too. He had, surprisingly, found himself in a bit of a routine. He had, even more surprisingly, found that he liked having a bit of a routine. The lack of blinds in his new home made sleeping in nearly impossible, and the fact that he had to worry about being locked out every night meant he had a built in curfew as well. For the first time in his life, Nick had structure. Not the kind he could easily subvert, either. Sure, he had classes to attend in college, but when he didn't feel like it, he simply didn't go. Even working at the bar, his schedule was so flexible that one could hardly view it as structure. All the other day to day responsibilities in his adult life had been cushioned by the presence of Schmidt, and later, Winston and Jess. If Nick was a little short on rent or a utility, one of his friends was there to get his back. If he forgot to get food on a given day, they were more than willing to share.
For the first time as an adult, Nick was 100% on his own. Responsible for himself. But responsible for only himself. And that was the key. When he was young, he had been forced into the role of 'man of the house', his responsibilities affecting the welfare of others. Others he loved. And as he grew up, he so resented that brand of premature responsibility, that he subconsciously railed against it his whole adult life. But now, Nick was finding a little responsibility was actually satisfying. Something he wanted to do, not something that was merely forced upon him.
Before Nick could examine his thoughts further, that old Alfred Hitchcock song chimed through the room. He looked up to see a surprised looking Winston walking through the door. He looked up at the sound of the music, removed the sunglasses from his face, and shot Nick a questioning look.
"I dunno, man. It must've been a Halloween shop or something," Nick said, standing up.
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess that sort of makes sense." Winston slipped his glasses into the front pocket of his red polo shirt as he looked around the room. "Place is looking pretty good man."
"I know, right?" Nick smiled. "Took hours, but it's starting to look like an actual domicile."
"Domicile?"
"I'm sorry," Nick said, rubbing his head. "I think it's being around all of Schmidt's stuff. I dunno, it's rubbing off on me somehow. It's like osmosis or something."
"That's… horrifying."
"You have no idea. He has so many lamps. What does anyone need with all these lamps?" Nick said, pointing to the corner of the room where he had piled about a dozen lamps of various sized and shapes.
"I have no idea, but it can't be for any reason we'd want to dwell on."
"Good point. You want a beer or something?" Nick said as he stepped to the back of the room and headed towards the fridge.
"I guess I got a few minutes," Winston answered, following.
"Actually, I was probably going to whip up some dinner here in a bit. Interested?" Nick asked, peering into the fridge.
"No, I think I'm…. wait, what?"
"I was about to make some dinner. Nothing fancy, probably just some roasted broccoli and a chicken breast or something.
"I think I'm all set, thanks. Since when do you cook?"
"What do you mean? I've always cooked."
"If it takes less than three minutes and one stir in the microwave, it's not cooking, Nick."
"I dunno," Nick said, shutting the door to the fridge. "I've been driving less to save on gas money, so I've been doing most of my shopping at the farmer's market. And their frozen food section leaves much to be desired."
"You don't say."
"Yeah, but hey. I've lost six pounds in the last 10 days, so I must be doing something right!"
"You lost six pounds?" Winston asked, confused.
"Yeah, turns out swapping pizza rolls for broccoli makes a fella drop the LBs," Nick said folding his arms. "Sorry, looks like I'm actually out of beer. I can grab you a water or something. Or we could run down to the bar if you want."
"Know what? I think I'm good," Winston said, looking around. "What do you cook on?"
"Oh, well at first, I just put everything in the microwave," Nick said, crouching down to open a cabinet below the sink. "Had a book of recipes and everything. But all the food came out all rubbery and flavorless, so I picked up one of these at the goodwill down the street."
With that, Nick set a small, round convection oven on the counter near the refrigerator. He shrugged as he ran his finger over the oven before plugging it into the wall.
"Only cost me $34," he smiled. "All the food kind of comes out tasting kind of the same, but at least I don't feel like I'm eating erasers."
"Bonus."
"Keeps my costs down, gives me something to do."
"Nice," Winston nodded as a small smile crept across his face.
"Sure you don't want to stay for a bite?"
"No, but thanks, man. I actually just stopped by to pick up the rent. Figured you'd rather deal with me than your 'landlord'," Winston said, making air quotes with his fingers. "Besides, I got an early, early day tomorrow. It's my first day of training. Yeah, Coach is going to be getting me up before the crack to get me started. A little pre-training before the real training at the academy starts in a couple weeks."
"That's awesome man. How is Coach?" Nick asked as he moved across the room to one of the end tables by the couch.
"Coach is good, man. The school year just ended, so he's booking more hours at the gym. But he's offered to work with me in the mornings, so…" Winston said, waiting for Nick's inevitable follow up.
"And the others? How, uh, how are they?" Nick said, looking down.
"Hmm. How… are… they." Winston repeated, knowingly. He tapped his finger to his chin as he tried to gauge Nick's anticipation on a scale of 1-10. Deciding a 14 seemed accurate, Winston dropped his hands and looked Nick in the eye.
"'They' are doing okay, I guess. Better than 'They' were doing a few weeks ago, that's for sure. 'They' are getting out more, spending less time in 'Their' room. Not sure what 'They' plan to do all summer, but if you're wildly curious, you could… you know… ask her. I mean, 'They'."
"I'm glad everyone is doing so well," Nick said as he removed his checkbook and a pen from the end table. He bent over and scribbled on the check book quickly before straightening up and carefully tearing the check out. "Here you go," he said somberly.
"But really," Winston said, taking the check. "You could just ask 'They' how 'They' are doing. Give 'They' a call. Maybe…I don't know…stop by and visit… 'They'."
"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Nick said, shortly.
"Okay, okay," Winston said raising his hands. "Just saying."
"Well, thanks."
"Hey, since when do you use checks? I was expecting the usual sandwich bag full of quarters and loose singles."
"Oh, it's been a little while," Nick said thoughtfully, taking a deep breath.
"Chicago Bears checks, eh?" Winston smiled. "Man, can you believe they let just Julius Peppers walk like that?"
"Terrible decision!"
"Terrible. I know Allen's a good player. And he could be a decent replacement. But…"
"Why mess with a good thing?"
"Exactly."
"They're going to live to regret that one, 100%," Nick answered. After a moment, Nick's mood started to shift and he started herding Winston towards the door. "100%."
"Yeah…" Winston said, moving towards the door. "Yeah, I can see that."
As Nick pushed open the door, he flinched as the song again blasted through the room. His shoulders slumped as he gestured for Winston to pass by.
"Thanks for stopping by, man. Next time, you'll have to bring Coach or Schmidt. Stay for a beer or two."
"Yeah, that'd be good," Winston said as he moved past Nick and slipped his glasses back on. Before he walked towards his car, Winston stopped and turned back to Nick. "She misses you. It's obvious as hell, man. She's trying, but… she misses you."
Nick tugged on his ear before giving Winston a quick nod. Winston nodded back and, feeling satisfied that he'd conveyed his point, turned and walked back to his car. Nick's eyes followed part of the way as he slowly let the glass door close in front of him. He rested his forehead on the door momentarily before locking the deadbolt and turning back into the room. His fingers spun the checkbook in his left hand as he walked over to the couch. As he collapsed into the soft fabric, he lifted the small booklet before his eyes for a moment, examining the Chicago Bears logo. Nick let his head fall backwards, shutting his eyes as he allowed a memory he normally would've avoided to enter his mind.
It was months ago, in the loft. The day the checks arrived in the mail from the bank. The ordeal with his father's 'inheritance', along with his rather rash and unwise spending spree, had landed he and Jess in their most intense argument to date. But, an argument that had only served to strengthen their resolve, and push them forward as a couple.
That day, he had paced in his room as he waited for Jess to arrive home from work. Hearing the loft door open and her keys hit the adjacent table, he gave himself a look in the mirror. He passed his fingers through his hair before checking the front pocket of his navy blue button down to ensure his surprise was where it should be. As Jess turned into Nick's room, knowing exactly where he'd be, he turned to face her, trying to hide his apprehension.
"Hey there," she beamed as she entered the room.
"Hey yourself," he returned, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his own face as he took her in. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail apart from her ever-present bangs. She wore a simple green dress, knee length with short sleeves. His eyes instinctively shot head to toe, where her bare legs led to a pair of matching green flats.
"And what are you smiling about?" she asked as she approached, wrapping her arms around his neck before planting a hurried kiss on his lips. Nick felt the satisfaction flow through her slight frame as she stepped back and exhaled, not releasing her hands that had joined behind his neck. And he relished the fact that he had, in some way, caused that satisfaction.
"Oh, nothing," he answered in evasive fashion.
"Nothing?" she asked, cocking her head to the side suspiciously.
"What? I just like your dress. Is it new?"
"This old thing?" she answered, looking down and quickly shaking her head as she looked from her left shoulder to her right. "You've seen this a million times before."
"Jess, I don't think I've ever seen you wear the same dress twice."
"Nick!"
"Serious, Jess. I don't know how you…"
"Don't worry about it."
"I mean it. Where do you keep all these dresses? I've seen your closet. It's not that big."
"Don't worry about it," she said again before quickly lifting her head and kissing him again, ending any potential for further debate. This time, she let the kiss last for a few moments before breaking away.
"I'm sorry, what were we talking about?" Nick asked.
"I was about to ask you if you had something in your pocket, or if you were just happy to see me?"
"We'll, I guess I'm always happy to see you, but…" Nick trailed off.
"Nick, I'm kidding," Jess said, finally releasing her hands from behind his neck and taking a step back. "Your pocket," she finished, pointing at his chest.
"Oh, right," Nick said, looking down.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just… I have something for you."
"Ooh, a present?"
"Well…"
"You know I love surprises."
"Jess, can I… can we…" Nick said, still looking down. Jess looked at him, concerned, and waited for him to get where he needed to go. After a few moments of insecurity, he reached into his pocket, and handed the piece of paper to Jess. "Just… here."
"What's this?" Jess said, mostly to herself, as she took the piece of paper from Nick. As she studied it, Nick watched on as her expression changed from concern, to confusion, to surprise. She looked up at him, and smiled. "Nick! Is this…"
"Yeah, the checks came today. You know, from the bank. And I wanted my first check to be to you, Jess. For the bills you paid, for the money you bribed Winston with. For… well… for everything."
Jess reached out and put her left hand on Nick's shoulder. She slid her hand down his arm until she found his right hand and took a hold of it.
"Thank you," she nodded, giving his hand a squeeze.
"Yeah, well. It's what's right," Nick said, squeezing back. "I wasn't ever going to let you take on my burdens. I never would. Even if… you know… you basically robbed me."
"Yeah," Jess said, grimacing. "Yeah, it's kind of a thing I have. I meddle, I fix. I… I need to work on it."
"Well, we both got things to work on I guess."
"I guess…"
They stood in silence for a while, looking at each other. Jess brought Nick's hand up to her chest and held it for a moment. She then lifted it to her mouth, kissed it gently, and let it drop.
"So, how does it feel to have your fist checking account?" Jess asked eagerly.
"Oh, it's not my first checking account."
"Oh?"
"No, no. I had one in high school. Lasted on into college. Until…"
"Until what?" Jess asked.
"Well, until I was offered a credit card from some kid on the south green."
"How's that?"
"Yeah, they had these booths set up all over campus freshman year offering credit cards. Turns out 28% interest rates aren't such a great deal."
"I see."
"Who knew?"
"Well…"
"I know, I know. I should've paid more attention in my personal finance class junior year."
"You took a personal finance class?"
"Yeah. But don't worry, I almost never went."
"Gotcha."
"And when I did go, I spent most of the time staring at Casey Palmer's legs. Not paying attention to Mr. Whatshisname."
"You don't remember the teacher's name?" Jess asked, smirking.
"No, not really."
"But you remember this little chippy with the legs? What was it? Casey…"
"Casey Palmer."
"But of course."
"Well, she had great legs," Nick said, playfully.
"Mmm hmm."
"Especially on Fridays. See, that's when she used to wear her cheerleading outfit."
"Easy now."
"Our colors were blue and white. She wore it well," he shrugged.
"Hey Nick?"
"Yeah Jess?"
"Don't push it."
"I dunno, Jess. I kind of like getting you a little worked up."
"And why is that?" Jess said, stepping towards him.
"Well, because that usually ends with me getting a little worked up."
"And?"
"And we both know where that goes."
"That we do," Jess said with a smile. She reached past Nick's shoulder and slammed the door to his room shut and embracing him in one motion. With no further invitation needed, Nick lifted her off her feet, and started to carry her towards his bed.
Back in his storefront apartment, Nick's head snapped forward, his trip down memory lane coming to an abrupt and forceful end. He sat up and wiped his forehead with his arm. He frowned as he pulled his arm away, noticing the pool of sweat that had transferred from his brow to sleeve of his hoodie. Giving his head a shake, he leaned over the coffee table and adjusted the screen to his laptop. He took a deep breath, and started typing.
Yeah, so this one took a while to get going on. And then it sort of got long. But I thank you for making it through, and I hope you enjoyed it. As always (can't say it enough) thanks for taking the time.
