EPILOGUE

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A YEAR MAKES

MIRYAM

“Don’t you dare scratch that table!”

Steed catches his end of my great-grandmother’s coffee table before it hits the floor. I blow out the breath I was holding and close my eyes.

“Tell me one more time why you didn’t hire movers!” Sheba struggles with the other end of the table.

In their defense, my great-grandfather made it for his bride with his own hands, and the thing is basically half a tree.

Ben walks in the door behind them, carrying two dining chairs. “Moving is fun! Who wants to bring strangers into this? You can’t tell me you’re not having fun.”

Sheba glares at me, but she addresses Ben. “That’s exactly what I’ve told you since the first minute I got here. People who aren’t in college hire professional movers. This is a violation of my dignity and my civil liberties.” She grunts and sets the table down in the living room. “I hope Miryam punches you again.”

“That only happened once!” Ben yells from the dining room.

“Twice!” I yell back.

“Are we moving, or are we talking?” Mr. Wright pushes a hand truck stacked with boxes through the doorway. “Matlock comes on in two hours and there will be Hell to pay if I miss it.”

“Dad, that show hasn’t been in syndication in decades. I’ll buy you the whole damn series on DVD. Then you can watch it whenever you want.” Ben stops by the kitchen and kisses me before heading back out to the truck.

His dad follows him with the now-empty hand truck. “I don’t need instant gratification like your generation. I waited four years for this episode like a normal person, and I’m not missing it.”

I pick up one of the boxes from the central dumping ground and move it to the master bedroom where it belongs. The label on the side indicates it’s full of pictures. I tear off the tape and open it. I unwrap the frame on top and find the photo of Ben and me at the bris. That was almost exactly a year ago. It still might be my favorite picture of us.

The next picture is of Ben and me, with Mr T. curled up on my shoulder. These photos have only been in a box for two weeks, but I love looking at them. The next one I unwrap is of Ben and Bubbie. He managed a feat accomplished by no one before him—he got her to use a cane. He spent hours gluing rhinestones to it so she could look like a “proper pimp.” His words, not mine. She loves it. She can’t even see it, but she loves it. She says it gives her “street cred.” I haven’t made much progress with talking Bubbie and Aunt Abagail out of their cable package. Clearly.

Ben and I bought a house together last week. I bet we looked at eighty of them before we signed a contract. He wanted something big enough to get all my furniture out of storage. I wanted something close to Bubbie and a single story so she could get around easily when she visits. We finally found the perfect one-story house six blocks from Bubbie. It’s old, it has a weird smell, and I’m certain there’s an alligator living in the broken pool in the back. It’s so perfect.

I started working at a new firm about seven months ago. I’m practicing criminal defense law now, and I love it. David and his girlfriend left our old firm about a month after I punched him in the dick. I could’ve stayed at that firm if I wanted to, but the change felt good. I heard they moved out of town, but I don’t much care. I’m way too happy with my life to waste another second thinking about them.

The next frame I unwrap is a picture I took of Ben in front of his new van. He had to hire an employee and buy a second van after getting a couple of contracts with high-rise buildings. That employee is his brother, who complains constantly about having to drive a van.

I set all the frames back inside the box and push it to the side with my foot. I hear tiny claws scratching on the master bathroom door. We locked Mr. T inside so he wouldn’t get stepped on with all the action. I’m sure he can sense Steed is here, and he wants out badly.

I rub the bottom of the door. “No can do, buddy. You have to stay in there until it’s safe to come out. I’ll make it up to you. I promise you’re going to like what I have planned.”

“Miryam?”

I hear a knock on the doorjamb behind me. Ben’s brother is standing there with Bubbie when I turn around.

“I brought your grandma.”

Bubbie looks every bit the proper pimp with her sunglasses and bedazzled cane.

“Thanks, Jacob.” I hug him and then put my arm through Bubbie’s. “Let’s get you on the couch so no one bumps into you.”

“Miri, I’m a full-grown woman with a sparkly cane. If they can’t see me, then they’re more blind than me.”

Ben walks through the living room with more chairs. “Hey, Jacob. Did you get those boxes from the old house?”

“Yeah, I’ve got the ten cases of Viagra and penis pumps you asked for!” he yells.

Ben tries to sweep Jacob’s legs while he arranges the chairs. “Would you keep your voice down? The front door is open and Miri’s grandma is here.”

Bubbie scoffs. “Don’t be shy on my account. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be your best, Ben.”

Ben punches Jacob in the arm. “Now look what you started. There’s nothing in those boxes but old concert shirts.”

Jacob punches him back. “Hey, I’m not the one who got busted for solicitation.”

“Stop working that into every conversation.”

The two brothers start arguing about each of their missteps. They do this every time. Thankfully, Ben was never charged with anything. Stephanie, however, has been under house arrest since she posted bail months ago. Her trial starts in two months. Ben never has to testify and she never has to know he’s the one who turned her in. The case against her is strong. She’s definitely going to serve some time.

Part of me hates her for using so many people, but a different part is grateful to her for bringing Ben into my life. It’s a weird mixture of feelings.

Some couples are ashamed to admit they met online. They should try falling in love with a hooker. It’s a heck of an ice breaker at parties.

“Hey! Senior cancer survivor here! Why am I the only one working?” Ben’s dad wheels in another load of boxes on the hand truck.

“Russell, come take a load off over here with me.” Bubbie pats the couch next to her.

Mr. Wright is Bubbie’s favorite. He’s the only person with a Gentile name she chooses to remember. They’re the most unlikely duo, but I guess there’s a lot of that going around.

Bubbie opens her purse and pulls out two plastic cups. She hands one to Mr. Wright. She proceeds to pull a full bottle of wine from her purse and twists off the lid. She fills each of their cups. “To being the baddest pimps on the block,” she says with her cup raised.

I’m turning off their cable if I have to physically cut the cord myself.

Steed walks in the front door, with Sheba following behind.

“Are you having a party in here without us?”

Sheba closes the door behind her. “We want to take a moving break, too.”

With Bubbie and Mr. Wright taking up the entire couch, the only place left to sit in the living room is an oversized side chair. They both take a few steps toward it and stop, looking at each other.

“You take the chair.” Steed motions to it.

Sheba scratches her arm. “No, you take the chair. You’ve worked a lot harder than I have today.”

I’m not telling them there are six chairs in the dining room a few feet away.

He puts his hand on her shoulder. “Oh, you were keeping things hard. I mean, working hard. I mean… You know what I mean.”

Sheba walks closer to the chair. I can’t wait to tease her for the extra sway in her hips.

“It’s a big chair. I bet if we try hard, we can make both fit.”

I wonder if we’ve unpacked the water hose because I’m going to turn it on these two.

The doorbell rings, saving them. I dance my way across the living room because I know who this is. “Your housewarming present is here, honey!”

“Why did you buy me a housewarming present? This is your house, too.”

“I didn’t buy it. I adopted it.” I smile huge at him. I can’t believe how much I love this man.

“Adopt, don’t shop, bro. She gets it.” Steed adjusts Sheba on his lap.

I open the door to a tiny woman with graying hair standing on the porch with a small carrier.

“Come in! Come in!” I open it wider so she can walk through. “Ben, this is Maisy with the Greater Miami Ferret Rescue.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ben.” She shakes his hand.

Ben looks distrustful, like he might be hoping there’s a bomb in the carrier instead of the fuzzy nugget pressing his face against the wire door.

I walk over and hug around his torso from the side. It’s like hugging a sequoia tree. “Honey, I got us another pet. Now Mr. T will have a friend.”

“He already has Steed,” he mumbles.

“Damn straight.” Steed taps his chest twice and points to the sky.

Maisy sets the carrier on the ground an opens the door. She pulls out a black ferret with a pink bandana. She nuzzles the animal’s nose. “Welcome to your new home, Tinkerbell.”

“Fuck no.” Ben shakes his head. “Nobody in my house is going to be named Tinkerbell. That’s not happening.”

I roll my eyes. Men. “That’s a cute name for her.”

“Nope. I’m calling her Mrs. T.”

I rub his chest because he’s a sucker for that. “Call her whatever you like. She’s ours now.”

“So, my housewarming present is a girlfriend for Mr. T?” He looks down at me with a fake stern gaze.

I kiss him on the chin. “That’s an awfully negative way to look at it, but to each his own.”

He leans down and whispers in my ear. “If Mr. T gets more action than I do, I’m gonna be pissed.”

I try to smother my smile as I look over at Maisy, who’s patiently waiting with the carrier.

“I personally guaranty you will get laid more than our pets. Happy now?” I whisper.

He pulls me tight against his chest. “Very.”

Maisy sets Tinkerbell, now known as Mrs. T, on the ground. The ferret runs to Ben and stands up against his leg, nuzzling him with her nose.

Ben kneels to pet her. “You know, I think she’s going to grow on me.”

I don’t smother this smile. “Things have a funny way of doing that.”