Happenstance(93)

There are ticket stubs from our first concert together. Ed Sheeran in Forest Hills. I don’t remember a lot about the show because I was too busy watching our girl sing along with her best friend, Shayna. Me and the guys basically took turns bringing them drinks and standing in the endless line for merchandise. That was well over three years ago—and one of the best nights of my life. Our life.

That’s the night she got drunk and told us living apart wasn’t working anymore.

When we started this relationship, the plan was to keep separate residences. Elise could see us separately during the week, followed with a group date on the weekends. It’s so laughable now to think we could control this. Tidy the four of us up into a schedule.

We’re not containable.

Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing having Elise to myself on those solo dates. I even got her to a few Mets games. But returning her home the next morning was awful. Accepting it would be several days before seeing her again. Knowing she was spending the night in Banks’s or Tobias’s bed without me never seemed right. The evening of the Ed Sheeran concert, we all finally admitted to feeling to same way. Solo dates were still an option, but the majority of the time, it needed to be all of us. These men I consider my brothers now. And our Elise.

We bought a house together, not too far from my old place in Queens. Elise spent two years at Baruch earning her associate’s degree in journalism, before being accepted to Columbia where she got her bachelor’s. She’s taking her time deciding which news outlet she wants to work for. After her legendary expose in the Times four years ago, she can have her pick.

But trust me, we’ll be keeping a close eye on whoever ends up as her managing editor.

Along with anyone else who comes within ten feet of the center of our universe. Speaking of whom, she’s no longer dancing with her father, because the song is over. Tobias claims her with a kiss on the forehead, swaying her into the next dance.

It’s amazing how much the Brit has changed over the years. He’s relaxed in his own skin. Quicker to laughter. Our boarding passes to London are another item in my scrapbook. He overcame his fear of returning home last year. Having us along for the ride helped. Now, he is the top investor in a series of high-end sashimi restaurants throughout Queens. I can’t be the only one who wants decent sashimi in this borough, he once said. Apparently, he was right.

I have a whole separate scrapbook dedicated to ticket stubs for the Flare. Tobias, Elise and I have attended so many matches, I’ve lost count. We sit in the family box alongside Banks’s mother, who hasn’t missed a game in four years. They added another championship banner to the rafters of the stadium recently—and the night of the ceremony, somehow, we just knew. It was time to propose to Elise.

She wanted to wait until she got her degree to plan the commitment ceremony. Not going to lie, there were some days I thought I would die without having some kind of vow exchange between us. Not because I feared I would lose them without it. More from a need to express out loud how much they mean to me.

Speaking of Banks’s mother, she’s dancing with her son right now. She must feel me observing them from my spot at the bar, because she raises a hand and waves. I give an exaggerated tug of my bow tie, pretending that it’s cutting off my oxygen and she laughs, before going back to her conversation with Banks.

I look around the room at everyone in attendance. My parents are here. My brother and Candace—also known as our former neighbors. Elise’s parents. Shayna. Tobias’s therapist and his parents. An entire rugby team. Some of Elise’s classmates. People that have accepted our unorthodox relationship, despite some skepticism in the beginning.

Especially from Elise’s parents. The weekend we met them for the first time takes up an entire five pages in my scrapbook.

The napkin her mother wept into when we broke the news.

A transcript of her father’s phone call to the police.

The label off the bottle of whiskey he drank when the police informed him no laws were being broken.

A picture of their faces when Tobias told Elise’s parents how he made his fortune.

A shard of the plate that Elise’s father threw at Tobias’s head.

That was an interesting weekend, to say the least, but it ended in Elise’s parents being overjoyed for their daughter. Finally believing her claim that she’d never been happier. The final picture in that weekend’s section of the scrapbook is the six of us posing in front of our new house, a SOLD sign swinging in the breeze to our left. Since then, I’ve added a guest room onto the back of the house, so they feel welcome to come visit as much as they want from California.

Yeah, it’s hard to believe how far we’ve come with Elise’s parents in the last four years—and no one can say it isn’t still awkward when we all retire to the same room at the end of the night—but we’ve grown to love and respect each other.

Enough for Elise’s parents to attend our commitment ceremony today on the shores of Rockaway Beach.

The song ends. Elise kisses Tobias, their mouths lingering together for a moment in a way that makes my heart flip over. And then, like I knew she would, she searches me out for my turn to dance with her. Memories come flooding back from that first night we danced, at the gala. It seems like a hundred years ago, but somehow it also feels like it happened yesterday. Take up your space, she told me that night.