Executive Engagement

My roommate, Jenna, and I share an apartment on the Lower East Side. It's decent. A fourth floor walkup on Essex and Rivington. We've had it for two years now and we found each other on Craigslist. She's usually gone a lot for work - she travels and buys clothes for Wal-Mart.

Right now, I pad across the living room and see that the bathroom is dark. Is Jake even in the apartment?

That's when I hear a faint giggling coming from Jenna's room. Jenna brings home guys pretty regularly, but she's usually really discreet about it. She respects my space and makes sure they come in and out without fuss. I generally don't mind, but somehow I have a nagging feeling about this.

Plus, her door is slightly open. Not knowing why I do it, I walk closer and closer and peer in through the gap. She’s definitely in there with someone.

I should probably leave them alone. I’m acting like some sort of voyeur out here. Jenna’s room is dark, and she still has some music on. I hear muffled voices.

I’m just about to leave when something catches my eye.

A man’s watch.

So what, right? If Jenna has a guy over, he’s gotta have a watch, right?

Well this is the same one I gave Jake for our 3-month anniversary. It’s a Bulova – all I could really afford. Stainless steel with a blue face.

More suspicious now, I’m listening to the paranoid voice in my head and I think I’m walking inside.

Oh no! What if it’s not Jake? Jenna’s going to hate me!

Just to make it clear, I clear my throat and knock.

“Oh, fuck!” I hear Jenna say. I look in. Something is squirming in her bed. There’s clothes all over the place.

Then I see Jake’s tighty-whities. He insists on wearing them, saying they keep his “gigantic” balls in place. Whatever.

A lot of guys could wear them, right?

But wait. My boyfriend did laundry once at the laundromat. He put all his whites in with a very dark red shirt. And everything turned pink.

And there are now pink tighty-whities on the floor.

Fuck!

It can’t be. There’s no way!

My heart racing, I walk in the door and turn on the light.

A hand is sticking out from underneath the blankets. Is that Jenna’s hands?

“Jenna?” I ask quietly at first. The hand is struggling. Is it trying to push off the blankets?

No.

It’s trying to hide.

“Hey, Alicia,” Jenna pops her head out from the other side of the blankets that are on her bed. There’s a silence in the air. She looks at me with guilty eyes.

“Is that…” I am about to finish my sentence but I don’t. It’s hard to explain the emotions going through me but the biggest one right now is fear. Fear of what I’m going to find out.

“Fuck,” Jenna says aloud, sighing. Her eyes are big and she's looking directly at me. It’s like she’s realized that this is a losing fight.

A bit annoyed I turn my gaze to give Jenna a moment to get up and cover herself. But turning around means look

ing at the hand on the other side of the blankets that's still trying to hide.

Despite everything, I almost want to laugh. I can’t believe that was Jenna’s hand! It’s so feminine looking!