The car rolled to a stop in front of a shadowy apartment building. A fancy looking one, covered in vines with a fountain in the front courtyard.

Mariann’s boyfriend went around to the trunk of the car and returned with an oversized black shirt for the band Paramour. I took it, and pulled it on over my head, choosing not to question why they had let me ride across town half naked it they had had clothes the entire drive.

A valet came out from the apartment (oh. this was a fancy apartment.) and Mariann tossed the keys to him in an arch worthy of being used as an example of a parabola in an Algebra II class.

Mariann’s boyfriend helped me out of the car, but before my bare feet touched the ground, Mariann pushed him out of the way and shoved a pair of sea-foam green platform boots at me.

“Don’t let a lady go barefoot!” she admonished him.

He rolled his eyes, then spitefully scooped her up in his arms, carrying her bridal style as she squealed and giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

I smiled in spite of myself. This happy couple was a welcome relief compared to all of the other couples I knew who either never showed affection in public or showed too much affection in public — in the way that you knew their affection wasn’t genuine, it was just affection in public for the sake of showing affection in public, not to show affection for the other person.

“Come inside, Curious,” Mariann raised her eyebrows at me, “I want to welcome you to my home.” She flung out an arm grandly as her boyfriend carried her toward the apartment.

We padded up the red plush carpeted stairs, Mariann protesting that her boyfriend let her down, and him refusing.

“I swear, Harley, I thought you were too smart to be macho,” she teased, booping his nose with the tip of her finger. He ignored her completely, just continued up the stairs.

I had a hard time going up the stairs in my new platforms and oversized shirt. I kept tripping over myself, but it didn’t matter: the carpet was so soft.

I know what you’re thinking. Why did I follow two wacky strangers up to their apartment in the middle of the night? Am I about to get killed?

Truthfully, I don’t know why. But most of the events of the evening didn’t make sense anyway. Why should I start using reason now?

Mariann’s apartment was enormous. The entryway sparkled with a crystal chandelier that hung so low you had to duck your head to avoid getting smacked in the face by dangling jewels.

Gently, Mariann’s boyfriend set her down on a fluffy burgundy couch.

“Go ahead and explore Miss Curious!” Mariann had a twinkle in her eye.

I hesitated, but I did badly want to see the place.

Mariann’s boyfriend followed me as I moved to open a closed door.

The first door I opened was absolutely positively FULL to the brim with rubber ducks. Mountains of them! All colors all designs all sizes. There was nothing else in the room. A few of them spilled out over the threshold.

Mariann guffawed at my shocked expression. She laughed so hard she wiped tears from her eyes.

“Alright,” she said through her shaking shoulders, “that’s all I can take! I think we’re done here!”

Mariann’s boyfriend spoke up, “I need to get something.”

He disappeared into a room.

I stood still, waiting, too flabbergasted to open any more doors.

When he returned, he was wearing a face jewel: a red tear sticker at the corner of his eye.

“Ooh! Great idea, Love!” Mariann clapped her hands. She reached up into a kitchen cupboard and removed two machine guns, sandwiched between boxes of Fruitloops.

My face went white.

Mariann gently placed a hand on my arm. “Relax, Curious. We’re not killing anyone or hurting anything. We are going to fire upon trees.”

“Trees?”

“Yup! Nothing relieves stress and anger like firing off weapons harmlessly!”

I had a lot of stress and anger.

“Ok.”

Mariann’s face suddenly went dark. “Don’t agree with me. I only listen to actions. Never waste words when you don’t have to.”

We did drive out to a forest. We did shoot machine guns off at trees, wearing ear protection and goggles and looking like we thought we were in a zombie apocalypse. I did feel better.

Once again, we returned to Mariann’s apartment. It was 6:53 in the morning.

Mariann’s boyfriend reached into the fridge and pulled out three chilled glasses. He filled them with sparkling water — San Pellegrino — and washed three strawberries and slotted each one onto the rim of a glass.

“Curiosity killed the Cat!” he toasted, blue-fire eyes locked steadfastly onto mine.

It was pure survival instinct that kept me from looking shocked — how had he known?!

Mariann laughed, not getting it, thankfully.

“And satisfaction brought it back!” she clinked her glass with ours, “Tell me, Curious, will you be back?” She sipped at her drink, as though she were indifferent to the answer. At that moment, I doubted she was.

Despite all the warning bells going off in my brain, despite the purposeless things I had done — crazy things — and despite the fact that I hadn’t been wearing pants for the past five hours, just that random t-shirt and platforms boots I was a hundred percent not used to…

“Without a doubt,” I smiled. We drank.

“I’ll drive her home,” Mariann’s boyfriend grabbed a ring of keys from his pocket — a tiny guitar key chain spun around his finger.

“Boo. Are neither of you staying with me then?” she looked at me, “You can stay in the rubber duck room~” she laughed. She looked at her boyfriend, “You can stay wherever you like~”

“Mariann, some of us have to work on Monday. If I stay, I won’t be back at work til Tuesday and out of a job,” he said.

She pouted.

“You know it’s because you’re irresistible~”

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine.”

Suddenly, she grabbed a tube of lipstick from a make-up laden coffee table and applied a heavy coating. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me in, smooching my cheek and leaving a big red mark.

“Don’t forget me when you’re in that car together! You’re lucky I trust you!” She hugged a gold sequined pillow and fell asleep immediately.

Her boyfriend gently tucked one of her platinum blonde curls behind her ear. Then he turned to me and whispered, “Let’s go.”

Once we had stepped out of the apartment it was like reality settled back into my bones.

“So you don’t live together then?” I asked.

“Could you live with someone who intoxicates you every moment you’re around them, making you unable to function in reality? Every time I spend too much time with her, I lose a job or an apartment or anything that makes me independent. And anytime I try to stay away from her, I lose the other half of me. You have to understand: I love her.”

I didn’t know I still had the capacity for surprise, but I stopped dead in my tracks. People didn’t talk about loving other people outside of the movies or whispers. No one said those things out loud and with earthshaking confidence.

I shook it off, and opened my mouth to ask my next question, but he answered it before I could.

“Also, don’t get freaked out. I only know your name is Cat because of the name-tag you were wearing when we first saw each other.”

He remembered. He really did remember.

“I thought you said names weren’t important.”

“I thought you said they were.”

We arrived at the bottom of the stairs, exiting the apartment into the sunrise.

Mariann’s boyfriend led me to a motorcycle with green dragons painted on the sides.

He fitted his helmet over my head. The visor was green, sending the sunrise underwater.

We climbed on. My bare thighs felt very naked in the wind. I clung to him tightly, arms wrapped in a fierce hug.

I was exhausted. The moment I got home, I fell asleep. I dreamed it all again — holding Mariann’s hand, her boyfriend on the other side, leaping into the cold night air…

I woke up with Mariann’s red lipstick mark smeared across my face and pillow.