Page 10 of Garbage

“For cups? Like, to drink?”

“For cups. To drink.” How was someone this cute even real?

Chapter 4

Quincy

Quincy stepped out of the car. It felt, and he was almost sure of this, like a fairy tale.

When Mo’s grandson Quincy had been little, his favorite fairy tale had been The Little Mermaid. Mo told him it was sexist and complained that even after hundreds of years, everyone always wanted the damn characters to be white, by which she meant pink, like Quincy’s skin… but she’d still told him the story, just the way she’d told it to her grandson.

He’d recorded it as a movie, taking up his valuable storage space, so he could replay it later. It was a memory that he’d polished and treasured over the years.

So was this what it had been like for the Little Mermaid, walking on the human streets for the first time?

He’d gotten to ride in a car. A blue, shiny car with cup holders and squishy seats and a large screen that showed how it was navigating around traffic with blinking white rectangles. It was nothing like the garbage truck that bumped over every pothole. The ride was so smooth he might not have known he was moving if his internal map wasn’t projecting the path of his little blue icon the entire way, just like the map on the screen.

And now… he was going to go inside an apartment. Evan’s apartment.

This was even better than the day Mo had found a blue and gray tie, in perfect condition, in someone’s trash can and knotted it around his neck. She’d patted his chest twice and told him he looked dashing. He’d worn it for months, until it got too dirty and he had to throw it away.

But today. Today was even better. He tried to remember everything so that he could save it for the future.

He didn’t know what being a spark meant, but even if it took him another thirty years to be able to leave the depot, he would treasure this evening for always.

He followed Evan up the two steps, into a tiny room between two glass doors, and then into a small box. Elevator, his mind supplied. He was riding in an elevator. He could feel the motion as they rose up, up, to the fifteenth floor.

Evan turned down the softly carpeted hallway, which was lined with doors, but Quincy hesitated.

“Quincy?” Evan asked over his shoulder, before turning all the way back around.

Evan stood just outside the elevator, which closed behind him with a ding. He wanted to ride it a dozen more times, but first… “I can’t take off my shoes.”

“Oh, uh… do you need to take off your shoes?”

“Mo said that people who don’t take off their shoes don’t have any respect. Or culture,” he added.

“You can wear shoes in here,” Evan assured him. “People usually do in the hallway, but you can in my apartment, too.”

Quincy looked around. “This isn’t your apartment?” He liked this place. There was a shiny wooden desk beside the elevator with nothing on it, and pictures of flowers on the walls. Everything was so clean and bright.

Evan came back and took his arm. The bubbly feeling inside him doubled. Evan was so gentle, touching him like he saw people doing, walking down the street.

“This is the hallway, which I share with everyone else on the floor. My apartment is fifteen C. That space is just for me.”

“And… I can come in? To the apartment that’s just for you?”

“Just for me and my friends,” Evan corrected as he held his watch up to the door to engage the locking mechanism.

It took Quincy a moment to realize that Evan meant he was a friend. “We’re friends?” he asked.

Evan shook his head, eyes scrunched together and lips tipped up in a wide smile. “You’re just too damn cute. Probably shouldn’t say that but… Uh, yeah. We’re definitely friends.”

Quincy was cute. Quincy was friends. The bubbles were exploding.

“So, I guess we should talk,” Evan told him, finally dropping his arm. “Want to sit on the couch?”

“I think I should stand,” Quincy said. Hopefully it was alright to disagree. Mo sometimes let him make a decision or laughed like he was funny when he tried, but usually she just told him what to do.