Awkward Conversation and Revelation

You folded your hands, one on top of the other, and looked across the kitchen table at Mosche and Iris.

Mosche had been his usual, awkward but amiable self about walking in on him in a sexual encounter again. Iris had been the opposite, freaked out, and as soon as you’d turned your back on them she’d scampered to Mosche’s bedroom and only then had he followed. You’d headed to your room as well, quickly getting changed out of your work clothes, and then called them into the kitchen.

“What’s up, John?” Mosche asked you.

You sighed. He looked so… innocent. You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to figure out if he was really this naive, with the emotional memory of a goldfish, or if there was something else going on. It wasn’t going to be your problem for much longer though.

“Iris,” you said, turning to her. “I’m sorry if you feel… exposed, by what just happened, but I currently live here and I have a right to come home at the end of the day.”

She clenched her jaw, and you were pretty sure she hadn’t stopped blushing as she was a solid pink colour from her hairline to her collar. When she’d come out she’d been bundled up in a sweatshirt, sweatpants and thick socks, like she was trying to counteract your having seen her in the buff.

“Oh, these things happen sometimes. It’s just roommate problems,” Mosche chuckled.

“No, it’s not, Mosche,” you said. “It’s not just roommate problems. I think I’ve walked in on you in a compromising position, what, five times this summer? That’s more than once a month. And we’ve talked about it multiple times, and it keeps happening. Was this happening with what's-his-face I’m subleasing from?”

“Tommy? I mean, kinda,” Mosche said. “But you’re kinda a prude compared to him. He didn’t really care, he’d just come watch porn with me.”

“What?” Iris asked.

“Just a guy thing,” Mosche said like he was reassuring her.

“Yeah… no,” you said, shaking your head and trying desperately not to form a visual picture. “Anyway, whatever you and Tommy have as normal, you should probably figure that out with Iris because I don’t think she is OK with that.”

“Definitely not,” Iris said. “Mosche told me you were going to be at Sabrina’s probably all weekend so it would be fine that we… yeah. I’m so sorry, John.”

“Its- Well, I accept your apology,” you said, deciding not to push it anymore but that you didn’t want to minimise it either. It would be just like Mosche to only walk away with the conversation hearing ‘It’s OK’ and not all the other parts. “The other reason I called you guys out here is because I have news - Mosche, I know I have up to the end of the month on my sublease, but since Gemma is back in Australia, I’m going to move in with Sabrina for the last week we’re here before we head back to school.”

“What? No,” Mosche said, giving a pout like he was a four-year-old kid. “You should stay. I need my bro-migo.”

“It’s just going to be easier for us to manage the last week and then move back together if we’re in one place,” you said.

“Shiiit,” Mosche sighed. “Are you sure you can’t stay?”

“Wait, hold on,” you said. “What do you mean? I was always going to be leaving in a week, this is just one weekend early.”

“Well, yeah, but I figured you’d just go month-to-month after the summer. I thought we worked pretty good together as roommates, and things were going well at your intern job, so you’d want to stay.”

You blinked, your brain trying to find purchase on an idea track and only finding slick mud. You looked at Iris, who was looking confused as well. “Mosche,” you asked. “Why would I stay in the city beyond my sublease? That’s not how… What?”

“Well, I mean, you’ve been doing really good at your job,” Mosche said. “That means that they like you and stuff, right? So why would they fire you? Why not just give you another contract?”

“I’m an intern,” you said. “It’s only for the summer. I’m lucky I’m even being paid.”

“There’s internships all the time, though,” Mosche said. “Why leave if you could keep doing that?”

“Because school is starting back up,” you said slowly. “And if I want to be a lawyer, I need my undergrad to get into law school.”

“But you’re already a lawyer, you work at a law firm. That’s where lawyers work. You’re just an intern lawyer, and you can move up the ranks, right?”

You wiped your face with both hands, officially stunned.

“Moschey,” Iris said. “Lawyers need to pass the bar, which is a really hard test, and to do that they have to go to law school. It’s… not like other jobs.’

“Well that’s dumb,” Mosche said. “Who decided to make people take a test to be a lawyer? You don’t have to take a test to do other jobs.”

You opened your mouth, wanting to point out the many jobs you needed to pass tests to get a licence in, and then you remembered that Mosche didn’t seem to have a real job. Maybe he’d never had one. And you’d never asked him about his own schooling… Were his parents just funding him living in the city, trying to be a comic, to get him out of the house?

“Right,” you said. “Well, I’m leaving this weekend. It’ll take me a few trips to get everything over there, so I’ll give you back the key when I’m done, OK?”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about a roommate then?” Mosche asked.

“Tommy will be back in a week or two, won’t he?”

“No, man, Tommy’s dead.”

“What?” you asked.

“What?” Iris asked.

“Yeah. Like last February or whatever. I had to find someone to take his room, and you contacted me about the room,” Mosche said.

“Why is all of his stuff still in there?” you asked, utterly incredulous.

“I dunno, in case you needed it and stuff?” Mosche shrugged.

You leaned back in the chair, flabbergasted.

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