“Whoa, whoa. Let’s not be too ambitious. I’d be more than happy with a single stale Tootsie Roll.”
She laughed and dug in, taking a bite of the gooey pizza and immediately feeling like she was in a food commercial. The steam still coming off of it, the way the cheese strung out in delectable little strands, the just-so crispiness of the crust. It was salty and chewy and warm and perfect. It was everything ten-year-old Wren had ever hoped it would be.
After the first bite or two, she sat and waited for the nausea and heartburn, but none came. Damn it, this place ruled.
“While we’re here,” Arthur said, pulling out his phone, “I wanted to show you something. Look at this.”
She leaned over. “What am I looking at? All I can see is an ad for sexy singles in my area.”
“What? Hold on.” He x-ed out of a full-screen pop-up. “Now look.”
“It’s…a house.”
“I think I found some new listings that might work for us. They’re a little rough around the edges, but if you just keep an open mind.”
“Arthur,” she stopped him. “I did have an open mind. And you took me to some kind of weird suburban sex dungeon.”
“It wasn’t a—” He caught himself, took a breath. “You know what? You’re totally right. I’d love to see the kind of placeyouimagine us living in.”
“Don’t get defensive, now.”
“No, I’m completely serious. I think you should pick the next place we go see. I promise to keep an open mind.”
“Really?” She cocked an eyebrow at him, trying to gauge how serious he was. Was he genuinely interested in her perspective or just trying to prove a point? “Because I’ve got some ideas.”
“It can’t have heated floors or an elevator. It has to be in our realistic price range.”
“Aw, no fun.”
“Wren, I’m serious,” he said. “We can’t stay in the apartment forever. So we’ve got to figure this out, one way or another. Preferably together.”
He kissed her on the cheek before she could say anything else, then stood. “Sorry, bathroom. Way too much Sprite. I’ll be back before the cake. Just promise me you’ll think about it?”
“OK, I will,” she said as he stood up and walked out of the room. Arthur’s head swiveled back and forth as he tried to get his bearings, before he seemingly decided on a direction and walked out of view.
She didn’t know why she’d just agreed to get involved in this process. Just to placate him, not have a fight right here in the middle of her fictitious thirtieth birthday party? Because the more she thought about it, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to buy a house, in the burbs, the city, or otherwise. No matter where they ended up it would be the same. Volunteering at the PTA, making cookies for the bake sale, having dinner parties with neighbors that ended at 8:00 p.m., a thirty-year mortgage. It was everything she was supposed to want, and yet, there was a knot of dread sitting right there in her stomach, refusing to be ignored. It was like she could predict exactly how the rest of her life would play out once they signed on the dotted line, and that terrified her. The apartment wasn’t much, but it was temporary by design. It meant that whatever came next was still unknown and full of possibility.Sitting in that uncertainty felt good, and she wasn’t quite ready to leave.
Her rumination was cut short moments later when the speakers in the Yellow room clicked on. An upbeat acoustic guitar ditty piped in, along with rhythmic clapping.
“Oh my God, it’s happening,” Wren said.
The voice of Chuck E. Cheese came in next:“We say Happy, you say birthday! Happy—”
“Birthday!” Wren shouted.
“Happy—”
“Birthday!”
She clapped along and then quickly decided this was the best moment of her life. Sure, she would tell people later on that it was finding out she was going to be a mother, but really, it would be this.
She just wished Arthur was here to enjoy it with her and that he would hurry back.
And then, in the doorway, she saw the very edge of a large, brightly colored birthday cake. The hands cradling it from underneath were large, much larger than a human’s hands should be, and they were furry. The figure carrying the cake rounded the corner, and Wren’s jaw hit the table.
It was Charles motherfucking Cheese.
The giant mouse placed the cake down on the table in front of Wren and began to dance along to the birthday song.
