Evan

As the days pass, my apartment gets emptier and emptier. I used to think this place was small and cluttered, but as I throw things out, sell them off, or give them away, I’m starting to realize I didn’t have as much as I thought.

My sister flew in to help me sort through everything and take some of my belongings home ahead of me so I could save on shipping costs. Having her go through my stuff felt like trauma all over again.

“God, you still have this?” Nora pulled out a Final Fantasy T-shirt I’d had since my school days.

“It fits!” I said defensively.

“But it’s faded! I’m surprised it’s held together this long. Didn’t Mom get this for you when you were fifteen?”

“Yeah, and it’s one of my favorite shirts.” I quickly rescued it from Nora’s clutches and set it aside.

She surveyed my clothes, shaking her head. “Oh, big brother. It’s no wonder you’ve been single for so long. You need a whole wardrobe overhaul.”

Nora wasn’t wrong about the clothes. I wasn’t the best shopper. Some of my best pieces had been bought for me by former girlfriends or Nora herself.

“So, are you staying with Mom and Dad, or moving somewhere else when you get back?” she asked, returning to the pile.

“I can’t stay in Shreveport. There’s nothing there for me. I was thinking Nashville, Dallas, or Miami. Dallas would be closest to the folks. It’s only four hours by car.”

“Shit, can you even still drive? How long has it been since you’ve been behind the wheel?”

“Since I moved out here.” Until she asked, I hadn’t considered that particular logistical problem.

“Well, you’re gonna need to figure out the whole license situation, because I won’t be around to chauffeur your ass everywhere.”

“But I tip well!”

“Yeah, no.”

I thought about my MB supporter and wondered if they’d gone through the same thing when they moved to Florida.

“Yeah, I’ll figure it out.”

“So, you remember Denise?”

“You mean the one who had a crush on me when we were kids?”

“Yeah, that one. You know she’s back.”

I vaguely remembered a girl with pimples, really curly strawberry-blonde hair, and freckles who was always trying to follow me home.

“Yeah, what about her?”

“She looks fantastic, and she’s recently divorced.”

“Oh, not this again.”

“Wait, wait. Calm down. I know you hate it when people try to set you up, but she’s a knockout now.” Nora reached for her phone.

She pulled up a picture of Denise and showed it to me.

“She’s okay.”

“Okay?” My sister stared at me.

“She looks like the girls I’ve come to recognize as baby trappers. Always in the club, looking for some guy to get them pregnant and pay their bills so they can live the stay-at-home-mom life. No, thank you.”

Besides, Denise had never interested me. It wasn’t because she wasn’t pretty. It was because she was an idiot. Her life had revolved around watching The Simple Life with Paris Hilton, then later the Kardashians and Honey Boo Boo—the kinds of shows that made me feel like my brain was rotting. She wanted to be like them, and judging by that photo, she hadn’t changed.

“But Mom wants grandbabies!” Nora protested.

“You have a better chance of giving her those than I do. You’re at least married!” I laughed.

“But you’re older!”

“So you’re setting me up with a baby mama?”

“Better you than me!”

“I’m not taking this one for you,” I said. “Besides, do you really want Denise as your sister-in-law?”

Nora paused.

“Never thought about that.”

I laughed. Nora used to blanch, too, whenever Denise went on about Paris and Nicole.

“I’m gonna grab some more wine. You want anything from the kitchen?” she asked, getting up from the mountain of clothes.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“You know, I’m gonna miss coming out here to see you. Where am I going to get my fish and chips?”

“Didn’t you always complain that you couldn’t get decent, properly seasoned food out here?”

“Maybe you should move to New York or LA. Then I could get decent food whenever I come to visit.”

She headed into the kitchen, leaving me to think about it.

I didn’t actually have to stay in Louisiana when I moved back. Shreveport could just be a stopover while I got everything from London back to the States. As long as I could catch a quick flight home if my parents needed me, my options were open. Los Angeles and New York weren’t off the table. Getting back to Shreveport would just take more planning.

Nora’s phone was still on the table, Denise’s picture glowing on the screen. For a moment, I considered the idea of letting my sister set us up.

My brain delivered a flat, immediate response.

Hell no.

Before Nora could try to throw out my T-shirt, I snapped a quick picture of it and posted it on my socials. At least that way, if I lost it, I’d have a memory.