"I just have to live here now"

I spent the night at my sister’s place a couple nights ago because we needed to catch up and figure some things out. We lived together for three years, went separate ways after our rent went way up, and now we are moving back in together. We hadn’t really had time to talk about anything, so I went out to her place in Brooklyn to hang and crash on her couch.

The next day I went to the sporting goods store I worked at when I first moved to New York to ask for my old job back. I think they are going to hire me.

So, nothing new for me in 2023. I’m just gonna do 2021 again. I do feel like a different person than I did then. I guess that’s life. Doing the same shit over and over again and hoping you figure out a way to feel better about yourself regardless of the circumstances.

Until my sister and I hung out a couple nights ago, it hadn’t really sunk in for either of us that we’re going to be roommates again. After catching up on general life stuff and then trying to figure out what day we’re actually going to move, the cost, when we’re gonna get the truck, etc…we finally went to bed around 2:30 a.m.

“It’ll work out, dude,” she said. “This is how we’ve always done things.”

I pictured us both still living together in our 40s, both of us single, sitting on the couch as we get ready to move again.

“It’ll work out dude,” she’ll say as she kicks her feet up. “This is how we’ve always done things.”

“Totally, dude,” I’ll say as I crack open another beer. And we’ll both just sit there, wondering what happened to the time but also caring less than we ever have.

Right now, it seems like that’s the direction I’m headed in. The day after I stayed at my sister’s place, I went downtown and met with my old boss in his office to discuss me possibly working for him again.

“Remind me…did you give me notice before you left the last time?” he asked.

I said yes, because I did. I also would have said yes if I didn’t. I’m just glad he didn’t ask if I gave notice at the job I quit this past December. Because I gave none. I walked into the store one evening, gave my key to the manager and left. It felt pretty good at the time, as I already had a job lined up. Well, a gig. Short-term gig. My manager didn’t need to know that, though. I wanted the quitting to sound cool. And it doesn’t sound cool if you add, “Also, would it be okay if I came back onboard in six weeks?” So I made it sound like I was moving onto bigger and better things and walked out the door.

“Bigger and better things” was a sales job at an outdoor holiday market where I sold cozy socks and fleeces and stuff to tourists out of a booth and got drunk all day. It was fun for four weeks.  The last week was a little sad.

It was Dec. 30. Christmas was over. Tourists were mostly gone. The ones who were still wandering around were not buying gifts. But my buddy Chris and I were still blasting music, drinking Bud Light, trying to convince couples walking by how great they would look in matching onesies. Business was slow. There didn’t need to be two of us there. But Chris, who was scheduled for the late shift, had shown up to the booth with his suitcase 15 minutes after I arrived.

Chris doesn’t live in New York. He lives in Vermont, and our boss had met him at a bar in Burlington sometime in the fall and told him he’d pay for Chris to come down to the city, stay at an Airbnb, and work the booth. Also he’d be allowed to drink all day, because it helps sales if everyone’s having a good time, and at what other job is that allowed, much less encouraged? Chris said yes. This job was made for him. He’d drink all day and almost always went out afterward until at least 4 a.m. He always worked the late shift and rarely arrived at the booth before 3 p.m. So I was surprised to see him so early.

“Dude, what are you doing here?” I asked.

“I didn’t sleep at all, man,” he said. “I was out all night. Then me and Tony had to clean out the Airbnb before they kicked me out. I don’t have a place to stay, so I just have to live here now.”

He dropped his suitcase off, went and bought a cheeseburger and a chicken sandwich, came back, then ate them both and passed out in the back of the booth next to the hoodies. Two hours later he stumbled out from behind the curtain.

“Alright, man. Let’s get fucked up.”

I love Chris. But when he decided to move into the booth, I thought, “You know, I think it’s time to wrap this shit up.” A few days later our boss came by and we all packed up the booth, took everything to storage and went out one last time.

Now I’m unemployed, hoping I get a call back from the same guy who hired me for my first job in New York. He’s supposed to call me tomorrow, actually. And then a week later I’ll move back in with my sister. I’m telling myself that yeah, 2021 kind of sucked, but what if I do 2021 over again in 2023? Will it maybe not suck as much? That makes sense, right? Right?