there are three guys asleep in my living room. one of them is my brother; the other two are his design partners, jeroen and dimi. all three are tall, so it’s a good thing i have a lot of floor space. sometime around 2 in the morning, i gave them a stack of blankets and pillows and towels, then crashed hard. it was a long night.
i drove them around like a good little hostess, cruising down hollywood boulevard to melrose to sunset. we saw the sun set while driving down pacific coast highway. we dug our toes in sand and listened to the ocean. we met my parents for dinner at a filipino restaurant, where a piano man played as if he were at an old-time theater. he banged on the keys.
we requested two filipino childhood tunes and he rolled his eyes at us like we were not funny. oh, but we thought we were, and we laughed and hummed and passed the bowls and platters of food around the table.
after dinner, we went to the standard downtown. my brother’s friend, a fourth boy, joined us. we had to wait for access to the rooftop, and i had a minor hostess anxiety attack. the gin & tonic helped. when we finally retreated to the roof top, i was overcome with calm and awe. there is something so serene about being eyelevel with skyscrapers.
we ended up at the bigfoot, where dimi got scolded for not having any form of picture ID. the bouncer shooed us away. we were about to give up but something inspired me to plea one more time with him. violins played as i told him how it was my favorite bar and my brother was in town all the way fom holland and i had been telling them how cool it was and they were only here for one night. true story.
he scrunched up his face and gave me a grin. “okay. hurry up before i change my mind.”
“what did you say to him?” dimi whispered as we walked through the thin crowd toward the back of the bar.
“i told him i’d marry him.”