“I have to get back to the apartment,” Spencer said with newfound determination.
“No. He’s not there.”
Spencer’s body went cold.
“He’s at a party in Pilsen.”
“How do you know that?” Spencer asked.
“I looked him up on Instagram, saw pictures of him at a party, and I recognized the couch he was sitting on.” Ryan glanced back at the door to make sure they were alone. “I had sex on it last spring.”
“You remember a couch you had sex on six months ago?”
“It was a nice couch. Overstuffed pillows, gray tweed. I asked the guy where he got it after we both came.”
“That sounds like the gayest sex ever.” Spencer paused for a moment, and then looked up the picture of Patrick on his Instagram and checked out the couch. “Damn, that does look like a comfortable couch.”
“It’s from Pottery Barn, way out of my price range. If I owned a couch that nice, I wouldn’t fuck random guys on it, but that’s just me.”
Spencer was about to put away his phone, but looked at the picture one more time to admire Patrick’s smile. Something else caught his eye.
“What is it?” Ryan asked.
“Patrick is dressed as a bottle of mustard. Holy shit! I’m ketchup. Ketchup and mustard! We’re a couples costume!” Spencer never thought in his life he’d be excited by this. Couples costumes were the bane of Halloween’s existence, worthy of the world’s biggest eye roll. But the idea of being in one with Patrick sounded like the greatest idea ever.
“It’s fate, my friend.” Ryan clapped him on the shoulder. “Now get your ass over there and don’t fuck it up.”
11
Patrick
Patrick was the saddest bottle of mustard anyone had ever seen. He slumped on the couch in an apartment far too nice for any twentysomething. He rested his chin on his boxy costume in a hang-dog expression that would even make Eeyore fromWinnie the Poohsay buck up.
“Do you want something to drink, partner?” Jessie fromToy Story, otherwise known as Libby, sidled up to him and peeked inside his red Solo cup. It was full.
“I’m good.”
“You’ve barely had anything.”
“It’s strong. I’m nursing.” Patrick shrugged as best he could in his cumbersome outfit. It was the only costume left at the store that wasn’t some form of lingerie. The font and faded yellow coloring screamed 1978. He had been on the fence about attending Halloween festivities until Libby threatened to break down his apartment door and drag him out.
The strap that held the nozzle part on his head scratched against his neck, and the yellow velvety fabric of the actual bottle was a sweat lodge. He looked more like a lemon that had sat on the shelf too long.
The weight of his full Solo cup weighed in his hand. He wasn’t in the mood to get drunk tonight, wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. Fall was ending, and he was alone. This morning, he had spoken with his landlord, who agreed to let him break his lease in thirty days. Tomorrow, he began the hunt for a new apartment. He was not looking forward to November at all.
“Do you mind if we sit here?” A guy dressed as Ernie from Sesame Street pointed to the rest of the couch. Bert stood behind him. Except for the striped sweaters, they looked nothing at all like their characters.
“All yours.”
Bert and Ernie took the two seats to his left and giggled with each other about something that was probably only funny to them. A pang of hurt hit Patrick in the heart. He usually wasn’t one for couples costumes, but he was surrounded by him, save for Libby.
At least the couch he was sitting on was comfortable. He leaned back, rested his head on the plush cushion, and closed his eyes for a second. He let the pulsating music and smell of too many bodies in a confined space clear his mind of the one person he couldn’t stop thinking about.
Patrick thought he had fallen asleep and was now dreaming because when he opened his eyes, a ketchup bottle that looked familiar stood in front of him.
“Hey.” The ketchup bottle wore a familiar lazy smile that wasallSpencer.
Patrick bolted upright. He was very much awake.
