Romance Impossible(5)

We didn't leave until a few drinks later, swaying back to South Station to catch our respective rides home. By the time my train got there, I was confident that Shelly had sobered up enough to get home safely, and I had, too. She hugged me tightly before we parted.

"Everything's gonna be okay," she said, still a little bit slurred around the edges. "I promise, you're gonna do great."

"Thanks," I said, my head swimming too much to come up with anything more coherent than that.

I actually fell asleep on the ride home, the gentle rocking of the train lulling me into a dreamless slumber. Thankfully, the conductor knew me well enough to wake me up for my stop.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to unlock the door. Once it was done, I fended off Heidi's excited jumping for long enough to hook up her leash and take her outside one last time for the night. Staggering back inside, I managed to pull off my heels and unclip my hair before collapsing on the sofa and falling back into a deep, dark sleep.





CHAPTER TWO

Charcuterie





Charcuterie is the branch of cooking that has to do with meats - a crucial part of any chef's menu, in my opinion. Despite what some may think, I have the deepest respect for anyone who chooses self-imposed dietary restrictions, but for a chef? I don't believe we have that luxury. It is important for us to experience everything fully - in the kitchen, and in life.





- Excerpted from Dylan: A Lifetime of Recipes





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Max





***





When I finally came back to Boston, the trees were just starting to change their colors.

I beat the leaf peepers by a day, at most. My planned trip to Ikea to stave off the jetlag and get something relatively disposable to sleep and eat on soon became nothing but a distant dream, as I watched the cars crawl their way down 93 on the news. I ended up sleeping through most of the usable hours that week, waking up too late to unpack without disturbing my neighbors.

Look, I'm rude - but I'm not that rude.

I've relocated enough times in my life that I know how it goes. For a week or two after moving, you've got momentum. You're unpacking and organizing every day, breaking down boxes and planning out layouts and sweeping up stray peanuts before you go to bed. But it fades quickly. Anything that's not unpacked by the end of Week Two is staying packed forever.

And no matter how many times you move, you'll still end up packing things you never need.

By the time I was back on a non-vampiric schedule, the "digging around in boxes every time you need something" lifestyle had become my new normal. And I was busy - the final stage of renovations was wrapping up at the Trattoria, and the decorators were milling about, and I had to make sure they didn't wreck everything. That was considerably more important than my own personal comfort.

"Love what you've done with the place," was my brother Beckett's comment, when he first set foot in my apartment.#p#分页标题#e#

"I'm sure yours looks like the cover of Architectural Digest," I muttered, going to the fridge for a beer.

"I've only been here for three days," Beckett pointed out. "I'll never understand why you don't just rent out pre-furnished."

"That doesn't really solve the problem. I'd just have a couch piled with boxes," I said, popping the lid on my lager. "Anyway, we've been over this. I don't want to think about what the last person was doing on the furniture in my own place."

"It's all rental," he replied, with a shrug.

"You think that makes it better?" I took a swig. "You're mental."

"But you stay in hotels. That furniture's much worse."

"Yes, but that's not the furniture in my home. It's a completely different thing. Why do you always fight me on this? You know I'll never change."

"Because." Beckett went to the fridge and stuck his head in. "You're going to bring a woman back here, and she's going to tell the gossip rags that you're a slob, and you're going to ring me in the middle of the night to complain about it. I'm just trying to head this off at the pass."

"Not a chance," I said, sitting down on an empty plastic tote. "None of that, not while I'm here. For the entirety of my tenure in Boston, I'll essentially be a priest."

He gave me a look. "I can only assume this is some previously unknown meaning of the word 'priest.'"

I flicked my beer cap at his head.





***



I really meant it - the priest thing, that is.

Celibacy is the only way for me to stay focused. I have one speed when it comes to relationships - and it's the kind that usually ends in a fiery crash, twisted metal strewn across the pavement, road closures...