Apartment in Downtown Wilmington, N.C.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Posted by Kelly M.

May 2024

Perfect place to go with best friend after a parent has died. Easy off-street parking for the car her mom left her that still smells like her mom did at the end – orange blossom perfume to cover up the smoke from the joints friend’s mom and friend would drive around with (for the pain). Friend would buy the weed, roll the joints in that delicate, careful way she has with things, and the two of them would laugh about their covert mother-daughter drug deals. Bathroom is modern and well-appointed. Plenty of hot water and pressure for the hours friend spends scalding her body and the hair she just cut boy-short (looks so different, but amazing on her). Two blocks away from coffee shop that makes strong cappuccinos, which are necessary after drive and also since pretty sure caffeine is the only thing keeping friend going, because she moves like she’s wearing one of those lead aprons for X-Rays. Coffee shop also has assortment of fresh baked goods friend has a bite or two of before pushing away, shedding crumbs on the breakfast table. Breakfast table is nice, maybe stone? Easy to clean. Couch is small, but perfect for sitting hip-to-hip with friend and binging Buffy. TV is good, picture with plenty of clarity to see Sarah Michelle Gellar’s flawless face (always want to ask friend, who is straight, if she’s not at least just a little attracted to SMG? But not the right time) and that commercial for dog food we can’t watch, because friend’s mother was a veterinarian. Friend and friend’s mom used to hate-watch The Dog Whisperer together, friend’s mom shouting back at Cesar Milan about all the ways he was screwing up while friend laughed. Appreciate boxes of tissues placed strategically around apartment. Good for grabbing and bringing when unsure what to do for friend when sobs jerk out of her. Mattresses are soft and comfortable – lack of sleep not at all because of bed, but due to friend’s snoring (likely a result of congestion from crying). WiFi is fast when Googling “Can someone die of grief/being very very sad?” and getting concerning articles about studies on elephants. Plastic cups in kitchen are very big, just right for mixing ginger ale and whiskeys the next morning, because friend says she wants to drink – and there’s room for heavy pours after intense first day and intense night of elephant mourning research and those times got up to put a finger beneath friend’s nose just to be sure, to feel the gentle puff of life, then fearing would wake/disturb her. Cute fish pattern on cups, their big lips make friend laugh a little and pucker her lips too and for a moment she seems like she could become maybe not entirely what she was before, but something near. Cups are also sturdy so do not break when friend suddenly throws one down and screams, “This isn’t fucking fair,” and “I don’t want to be here!” Beach is only about a fifteen-minute drive. Nice beach, good for coaxing friend out of the ball she’s made of herself in the passenger seat and down to the water’s edge, where the waves drift around the ankles neither of us bothered shaving, swishing at the fine growth of hair, as our feet slowly sink into the sand. I let myself take my friend’s hand for the first time ever and I try to charge mine with something like healing, as I squint up into the sky that is blue blue blue forever and with my heart say to it, Please, help me know what I should do.

Host, Ryan, is very communicative, and allowed us to stay for an extra three days. Would highly recommend.

Wendy Elizabeth Wallace (she/they) is a queer disabled writer. She grew up in Buffalo, New York, and has landed in Connecticut by way of Pennsylvania, Berlin, Heidelberg, and Indiana. They are the editor-in-chief of Peatsmoke Journal and the co-manager of social media and marketing for Split Lip Magazine. Their work has appeared  in The Rumpus, ZYZZYVA, Pithead Chapel, SmokeLong Quarterly, Brevity, and elsewhere. Find her on Twitter @WendyEWallace1or at wendywallacewriter.com.