Page 52 of The Invisible Roommate

A heat crept up Gerard’s neck. “She likes music?”

She nodded. “Big into music. Loves it. Wants to do it when she grows up.”

“Cool.” Gerard kept his head down, rummaging in his fanny pack for exact change. The music playing in the store grew moderately stronger. “Christian rock?” he asked hopefully.

“Naw. Pop music? She’s got a set of pipes. Plays the guitar, too.”

“Cool.” He felt like a buffoon for repeating himself, but he was getting the impression she was hinting at knowing his true identity, so he asked the necessary question. “Do you listen to pop music with her?”

“Me? Naw. I don’t like that loud stuff. Music should be about rejoicin’ not partyin’. That’s just my humble opinion.” She performed the sign of the cross, kissed the tips of her fingers, and then directed them toward the roof.

He heaved a sigh of relief. “You and me both.” He handed over the cash before she even read out the total. The fanny pack around his waist was growing light faster than he’d expected, but he supposed that was bound to happen when he hadn’t budgeted for an invisible roommate.

“I wish more youngins shared our thinkin’ on music,” she said with a wink. “Need a bag?”

“No, thanks, but, uh, can I see the sketch of the scientist?” Bringing Emory up with anybody on the island was a bad move. If he courted too much attention, people might come sniffing around. Since Jeanie seemed to have a previously vested interest, he saw no harm.

“’Course!” She disappeared into the back room where she loudly shuffled through papers.

When she returned and he saw the sketch on a dirty piece of loose-leaf paper, he deflated. No wonder the police didn’t take this and hang it around town on WANTED posters. The drawing resembled a human, and it was better than the average child could come up with, but the proportions were unsettlingly off. Emory’s forehead was the size of his neck. His hair looked like the bottom half of a mop. On one side, he seemed to be missing a pupil. The sketch was the equivalent of a factory-defect Mr. Potato Head if the holes were all drilled an inch or two off-center and the pieces got plugged in anyway.

“Uncanny, ain’t it?” Jeanie asked, clearly fishing for a compliment.

Gerard nodded politely. “I’ve never seen him, but wow, a guy who looked like that would be hard to miss if he were still on the island.” Seriously, if he ran into a man who resembled the one in her drawing, he’d run screaming in the opposite direction. The visage was pure nightmare fuel.

“Keep an eye out,” she said. “And come back if you need to order anythin’.”

24Emory

The sun was out, which meant that Emory should’ve been sleeping.

Giving in to Gerard’s kind offer of sharing the bed had been a mistake. At some point right before sunrise, he’d stirred and discovered Gerard’s muscular arm draped over him, and he’d never felt more goddamn secure in his entire life, which was the tragedy of all tragedies because when he awoke next, Gerard was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t even stuck around for breakfast as usual, which soured Emory’s own appetite.

By late morning, he was well rested yet restless. He couldn’t go out. All he could do was pace the apartment and wrestle with himself over what he wanted.

In his head, he wanted to stay safe until he could calcify his discovery and rub it in the faces of his former classmates. In his heart, he wanted to be visible, so Gerard could see him. Maybe then, without words, Gerard would understand the growing emotions Emory felt for him, even though he couldn’t fathom them being reciprocated.

Eventually, Gerard arrived with an armful of gifts. One at a time, he set down two take-out coffees, a bag of fragrant baked goods, a long stringed instrument Emory had never seen before, and what appeared to be some colorful telephones. “Good morning,” Gerard chirped.

This was not what Emory had been expecting. “What’s all this stuff?”

Gerard passed Emory a still-hot coffee cup before plating him a scone. “Fuel, a mountain dulcimer, and a new way for us to keep in touch.” From the drawer in the kitchen, Gerard produced a pair of scissors, which he used to cut into the plastic on the toys before handing one to Emory.

“What do we need walkie-talkies for?”

“This way, if either of us ever gets held up or needs help again, since we don’t have phones, we can select a channel and use these,” Gerard said. “Package says they have up to a three-mile range. We’ll have to test them out.”

The previous night and that morning, all he’d wanted to do was reach out to Gerard to make sure everything was okay. Now they had a way to do that. One simple present exhibited so much care that quieted all his worries. All except the worry that he might be falling in love with his roommate, which was preposterous on every level.

“Thank you,” Emory said, after taking a bite of his cheddar-and-bacon scone and unfolding the walkie-talkie directions. He was so comfortable with Gerard now that he completely forgot his rule about eating and drinking in front of him. Upon first sip, the supersweet coffee made his teeth sting. “Why does this taste like soap?”

“Oh, sorry, that one’s mine.” Gerard swapped the cup Emory was holding for his. “Yumi at Bay Brew bought pumpkin spice syrup in bulk for the season and nobody is ordering it.”

“Did she pour all of it in there?” Emory asked, his tongue left with a filmy coating on it.

“I made the mistake of agreeing to try it the day she got it, and now she doesn’t even wait for me to order. She sees me and goes, ‘The usual, coming right up!’” he said.

“Is ‘the usual’ tooth decay?” Emory asked. “That single sip is going to give me a sugar high, which might be just what I need this morning.”