In 2019, we are telling the story of a romance over the course of 9 months and 13 chapters. Each chapter will feature some combination of art, ice cream, cocktails, baked goods, and music. Each participant has been tasked with creating an element of the story inspired by the corresponding chapter. Thank you for checking out chapter six. Click here for chapter one, chapter two, or chapter three, or chapter four, or chapter five. The participants this month are: @sbfbakes, @mollyatryzek_artist, @asweethistory, @_thydoan, @midorikoa, @tarynosaurus, @johnnyburrito, @MadelineLee28, @AbbyShepardLoves.
Nick and Jennifer loved living together. They did. They really did. Everything was amazing and perfect. It was. It was amazing and perfect to have lunch together on weekend afternoons, fresh French bread loaves with cheddar and arugula, fried egg sandwiches, anything. It was amazing and perfect to watch movies without roommates complaining about the noise, to sleep with the bedroom door open. It was. Nick loved being so close to Jennifer all the time. He was constantly inspired, and had never had so many new ice cream flavor ideas. He wanted to impress her, to be interesting and exciting. When he looked at her she sparkled, and when he left the house in the morning he’d be so full of her he about wanted to burst. It was amazing and perfect. Jennifer felt her heart being squeezed on the night’s she’d come home from work to the smells of whatever Nick was cooking for dinner that evening, her entire face would scrunch up with a smile like a full moon when she heard him singing quietly to himself, unaware she could hear. It was amazing and perfect. They both agreed constantly.
And yet. And yet. And yet. No. It was amazing and perfect, really. But, once in a while Nick or Jennifer would see something they hadn’t thought of as any kind of issue before they lived together. Nick wasn’t the tidiest, which had been cute before they lived together, or if not cute, ignorable. He had a whole dresser for his clothes, but generally he wore what he wore the day before or pulled his clothes out of the clean laundry basket he planned on folding later, tomorrow, this weekend. Jennifer was tidy, generally, but for some reason, she couldn’t make the connection that dishes put in the sink still had to be put into the dishwasher. And she wouldn’t stop buying books even though the shelves were full and she didn’t read THAT much. There were other small unaddressable traits or flaws, things, there were other things which hadn’t yet become resentments, but you could see how they might.
And then there was bedtime. This one was a surprise. Before they lived together, Nick would just go home when he was tired, or if they were at his house, he’d go to bed. Lots of mornings he had to get to the shop early to meet the dairy delivery, and if he didn’t make it, they couldn’t spin ice cream that day, and if they didn’t spin ice cream that day, they wouldn’t have ice cream the next day. And Jennifer could nap, wow could she ever. She’s sometimes get home from work before Nick, fall asleep for four hours and then wonder why she couldn’t fall asleep at a decent hour. And it wasn’t too big of a deal, as it never is at the beginning, but Nick would get frustrated if Jennifer started another episode on Netflix or took a long time getting ready for bed, and then they’d bicker, and then it took him forever to fall asleep. Or Jennifer would get annoyed he couldn’t wait up 15 minutes for her to finish her evening routine.
And it wasn’t too big of a deal, as it never is at the beginning. It was amazing and perfect, the little home they were making together. It’s just… The bedtime thing was like the tang a strawberry gets right before it turns. The strawberry’s still good, of course, delicious, juicy, it’s just red sky in the morning, sailor take warning, you know?