“The only pil in the pot,” her mom said, “is that you’ve never driven a U-Haul before.”
“The pil in the pot?” Isabel a asked.
“Isabel a,” her mom said. “Don’t be difficult.”
“Wel , anyway, I’m not driving it. Harrison’s going to. He’s the pil in the pot.”
“No,” her mom said. “I meant that the rest of your moving plan sounds good, but that the drive wil be difficult.”
“Maybe the worm should take the pil ,” Isabel a said. “Then there won’t be a pil in the pot.”
Her mom sighed. “Isabel a, I think you’re the pil in the pot.”
“People on the subway that stand too close,” Harrison said. “Put it on the list.” He threw the boxes on the floor and the dog jumped.
Isabel a got up and went to the refrigerator, where they had hung a running list of things that they hated about New York. It was supposed to make them feel better about leaving. So far, they had rats, cockroaches, huge puddles that you have to leap over, people walking with umbrel as that hit you, Duane Reade pharmacy workers, and now people on the subway that stand too close.
“Oh, and how about people on the subway that let their leg rest against yours and then when you move over, they move closer?” Isabel a asked.
“Isn’t that the same thing?” Harrison asked.
“No way,” Isabel a said. Harrison nodded.
“Put it on the list,” he said.
“I can real y have your couch?” Lauren asked. She was holding Mary’s new baby. She and Isabel a had been passing her back and forth al night and drinking wine. Mary just sat on the couch and watched. She didn’t even seem worried that every time they passed her to one another, they said,
“Don’t drop her.”
“Yeah,” Isabel a said. “You can have it. I don’t think it wil look right in the new apartment.”
“Why didn’t you offer me the couch?” Mary asked.
“You have a baby,” Lauren said. “You don’t need a couch.”
“Yeah,” Isabel a said. “That’s why.”
“Why is there so much crap in this apartment?” Isabel a asked. “Do we never throw anything away?”
Every drawer they opened was ful of garbage. Every shelf was crammed ful of clothes they never wore.
“We’re pigs,” Isabel a said. “We are pig people.” She held up an old sweater of Harrison’s that had a neon sort of print on it. “Harrison?” she asked. “What is this?”
Harrison shrugged. “A sweater.”
“Yes,” Isabel a said. “I realize that. But why do you have one of Bil Cosby’s sweaters?” Harrison grabbed it away from her and put it in a garbage bag of give-away clothes.
“It’s old,” he said.
“Please put it on,” Isabel a said. Harrison sighed and took it out of the bag and pul ed it over his head. He was very wil ing to appease her these days. It was cropped and boxy, with a pattern that resembled a lightning bolt. Isabel a bent over laughing until her knees buckled and she sat right down on the floor.
“Oh, you like that?” Harrison asked. He took it off and started swinging it at her. She gasped for air. “Don’t mess with the sweater, Isabel a!” He swung it around and around, hitting her on her butt while she laughed.
“You know what?” Harrison said. “Just for that, I’m keeping it.” He folded it and put it on top of a pile on the couch. Isabel a lay on her back and wiped her eyes.
“No,” she said. “Don’t punish yourself just to get back at me.”
“Punish myself?” he asked. “I’m only going to wear it when we’re together. And then I’m going to hold your hand, so everyone knows we are a couple.”
“That should help us make a lot of new friends in Boston.”
“That’s my plan,” Harrison said.
“I’m worried that Winston isn’t going to adjust wel to the move,” Isabel a said. When she said his name, the dog tilted his head and looked at her.
“I’m sure he’l be fine,” Harrison said. “You worry too much about that dog.”
“He has his friends at the dog park here, and he’s comfortable here. He might hate Boston.”
“Do you think you’re projecting just a little bit?” Harrison asked.
“No,” Isabel a said. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Why do you stil have this?” Mary asked. She held an unopened bottle of tequila that Isabel a had gotten in Mexico during spring break of their junior year.
“I just never threw it out,” Isabel a said. “I kept moving it from place to place, but it seems ridiculous to bring it to Boston.”
“Your apartment is real y depressing with al of the stuff gone,” Lauren said, looking around. “I can’t believe you guys are sleeping on air mattresses tonight.”
“Me neither,” Isabel a said. They al sat in a circle on the floor of the empty apartment, with the bottle of tequila in the middle of them.
Mary looked closely at the bottle. “Do you think the worm is fake? Wouldn’t it have decomposed by now?”
“Alcohol keeps things fresh,” Lauren said.
“Is that why you’re stil so young-looking?” Isabel a asked her. Lauren swatted her butt and Isabel a shrieked and scooted forward. “Come on, you guys,” she said. “I think we should drink it. I’m not packing it. It wil be fun.”
“I’m pretty sure if we drink that, we’l die,” Mary said.
“Oh my God. Is that your plan? Do you want to kil us al so that you don’t have to move to Boston?” Lauren asked.
“You clever little bitch,” Mary said. “It wil look like a mass suicide.”
“You two are complete freaks,” Isabel a said. “You know that?”
“Look who’s talking,” Lauren said.
“Here,” said Isabel a. “I saved some random shot glasses just for the tequila. Come on, you guys, I’m moving tomorrow. Let’s just drink a little of it.
Here, I’l put the phone right here so that we can cal 911 if it’s poison.”
“Fine, fine,” Lauren said. “Let’s do this.”
They took the first shot, and Mary held the empty glass and sniffed it. “Can you imagine,” she said, “if my children had to go motherless because I died of bad tequila?”
“I think what would be more disturbing is if Ava found out that you named her Gertrude for three days before changing it,” Lauren said.
“She didn’t look like an Ava until we got her home,” Mary said. “I told you that.”
“Right,” Isabel a said. “Little Gertie wil total y understand that.”
“Let’s do another shot to little Gertie,” Lauren said. She poured more of the tequila into the glasses.
“Fine,” Mary said. “But stop cal ing her Gertie. It real y freaks me out that I named her that.”
Lauren picked up the bottle and swirled it around so that the worm swam in the tequila. “You know,” she said, “this was real y my bottle of tequila.”
“I know,” Isabel a said. “I remember.”
Their third night in Mexico, the three of them had fal en asleep on the beach and woke up with uneven streaks of sunburn and sand in their mouths. For two days, Mary lay on the hotel bed, moaning and covered in aloe. Isabel a stayed with her, burned and nauseous, refusing to go out until her streaks had faded just a little bit. Lauren’s burn turned quickly to a tan, and she resumed her spring break the next night, winning a bikini contest at the hotel bar. She came into the room that night wearing several strands of beads and carrying the tequila with the worm on the bottom.
“Look what I won!” she yel ed and jumped up and down on the bed until Isabel a threw up. Lauren apologized and gave her the tequila to make up for it.
“I can’t believe you entered a bikini contest,” Mary said from her spot on the bed. Her face was covered with a wet washcloth and her skin was tinted green from the aloe.