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Ricky
It’s called a CPAP machine. He remembers when Big Red first awkwardly brought it up when Ricky had proposed the idea of a sleepover. It’s the 6th grade and he just wants to watch vine compilations with his best friend until an unfathomable hour. Big Red had brought it out of his backpack with this weird sense of shame Ricky didn’t understand. He explained it keeps his airways open whilst he sleeps- “Well duh dude, I don’t care- I’d rather you survive the night.” It had hit 3am. The vine compilations had gotten repetitive, the pizza stale, and suddenly Ricky understood why Big Red was so embarrassed. Holy shit, is this thing loud. And not in a white noise, lulls you to sleep, comforting type of way. No, this feels like he’s sat at Big Red’s bedside during his final hours in a hospital circa World War One. Back in the 6th grade, Ricky could put on his headphones and just patiently wait for sleep to come. But now he’s 28 and tomorrow is sort of the biggest day of his life.
Even without the distracting groans of Big Red’s CPAP machine, he’d be struggling to sleep. His legs are shaking and he keeps subconsciously grabbing over to his left to hug his fiance. But she isn’t here. Tonight she is sleeping at Ashlyn’s, back in her old bedroom from sophomore year. “It’s kinda sweet! This was the room I really fell in love with you..” Yeah, adorable in theory babe, he thinks. In practice, he hates it. He wants to talk about how excited he is for tomorrow. How he wonders what the song Ashlyn has promised to sing for them will sound like. How he is sort of terrified by whatever anecdotes Jet will include in his speech. His mom and dad, despite being cordial, being in the same room with both their new partners. He has a mental checklist of all the things he wants to talk about, but Red is asleep- and really, he just wants to talk about them with Gina.
Pushing the bed covers off, he sits up and checks his phone. 1am. Perfect. Grabbing his jean jacket, and his skateboard from the hall- he goes to talk to his best friend.
Gina
Gina Porter-Bowen. Gina Borter. Gina Powen. It’s nearing 1.30 in the morning of her wedding and she has not slept a wink. Instead, she is staring at the ceiling and thinking of variations of her soon to be new name. They had decided to settle on a double barrel after weeks of her shooting down Ricky’s combo ideas. “You know last names are just FAKE, we could make it anything… Like Skywalker. Ricky and Gina Skywalker… Or ya’know Borter sounds cool too.” Now she’s thinking maybe he was onto something. What happens when their future children get married? Do they double barrel Porter-Bowen? What if they marry someone who ALSO has a double barrel name? Now they’ve got 4 last names, and hate their mom for not going with Borter.
She and Ricky had spent time apart in the last 10 years. Birthday weekends the other wasn’t invited on, family emergencies, work trips. But each night was spent the same. With both their faces on the others screen, chatting about what they had done that day, and a goodnight kiss through the phone. They’re insufferably cute, they know. But the rules were clear. You don’t see each other the night of the wedding- virtual or otherwise. It’s bad luck or something. Gina can’t help but damn whatever tool had decided that was the rule. She had been sleeping next to the man for almost a decade, but TONIGHT makes it bad luck?
Psst.. Gi… Gi… Great, now she has devolved into insanity. She knew he was her person, but HEARING his voice? Gina makes a mental note to google the implications of hearing your significant other’s voice when you miss them. PORTER ! No, that is definitely coming from outside her window.
“This- this!” Gina waves at her boyfriend- scratch that, fiance’s overall presence. He is clinging onto the window frame for dear life. She notes that the bags under his eyes are a little bit more pronounced than they were yesterday. “This is unlucky. You are ridiculous- how did you even get here?”
“You do not believe in that crap and even if you did, it is no longer the night before, it is almost 2am. Loopholed !” The ends of his lips curve up, and she can tell he prepared his defence before coming over. Damn that face. Gina feels her resolve weakening by the millisecond.
“Also, I skated. My knees kinda hurt, can I sit?” Ricky shuffles from the window frame to the bed. Gina follows suit, sitting next to him and subconsciously starts rubbing his knees through his sweats. It’s a fond reminder that they are no longer the teenagers they used to be.
“I missed you.” Gina tells him. A little bit ashamed of the fact. It had been less than 24 hours.
His face breaks into that smile she has always loved. “I missed you too. Red’s breathing machine is insane.”
Gina bursts into giggles. “Wait- you’re sharing a room?”
“He begged! I think he just wants to brag about us having a sleepover to Mr Best Man tomorrow morning..” The debacle of best man was a sore subject after the pair had announced their engagement. Red being Ricky’s oldest friend had sort of assumed, whilst Jet Ricky’s closest friend had called dibs. In the end, Jet had gotten Best Man and Red had gotten ordained on the internet.
Ricky stands and motions to the bed with his chin. As if asking permission to get comfortable. Any resolve Gina once had is now out the window he came in.
“You are so high in demand Ricky Bowen, how did I get so lucky?” Gina snarks whilst fluffing up the pillows.
“Hey, that’s Ricky Porter-Bowen to you.” He says it with so much pride as he snuggles into his side of the bed that she thinks it’s clear that Porter-Bowen is the obvious choice. Their future kids, and whoever they marry, can just deal with the consequences.
As she gets snug on her side of the bed, Ricky breaks the comfortable silence. “Do you think the bowtie is too much?” His question snaps her out of the daze she’s in. He has that effect on people.
“Who’s? I thought you were wearing a regular tie?”
“Sandy’s….” He says with a shy smile.
She snorts. “Are you asking me if the bespoke bowtie you got for our golden retriever is too much?,” Gina turns to make direct eye contact with him. “Sweetie, it is definitely too much. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Cupping his face in the process.
“I can’t wait y’know?” She knows. Gina thinks back to all those wedding articles she had read online, and stories from friends of friends. “ Men don’t care about the wedding, pick what you want and he’ll be none the wiser.” Those men weren’t Ricky. He attended every vendor appointment they had. Deliberated on sage green or celadon green napkins. He was Head of the We Need Real Flowers Committee. He reminded her with not just words, but actions, that this was the most important day of His life too.
“I keep thinking about that scene from The Office.. When Pam’s speaking to the camera and is like, “When you’re a kid you think your parents are soulmates. My kids are gonna be right about that.”” He speaks into the darkness.
“They are. Also I lied. About this house being the one I fell in love with you in?” She admits to the ceiling. They both know she was long gone for him before she moved in with the Caswell’s. He had a hat to prove it.
“I know. How are you feeling about Jamie walking you down the aisle tomorrow?” He manages to ask weighted questions with ease. She’s always loved that about their relationship.
“Today.” She corrects. “And, good. It was either him or my mom.. And he loves you. I don’t want to be walking towards my future with you, and you being forced to see someone who doesn’t.”
Ricky feigns shock, and holds his heart to his chest as if he’s been shot. “You’re telling me Terri Porter doesn’t like me?” He stage-whispers. Gina can hear the smile in his voice as he says it. The room falls back into that silence she so loves. The sticky stars on the ceiling glowing in the dark are a happy hindrance. That’s how she used to fall asleep back when she lived here over 10 years ago. Counting stars.
“The window gave me deja vu. Like, I was gonna open it and you would be this lanky kid again. But I opened it and you’re YOU. Like this human being that’s mine? I.. I don’t know. Somehow you’ve been the one constant in my life for a decade, but still I’m shocked to see you.” Gina isn’t sure if she’s making much sense at all, but equally stopped caring about that a long time ago.
“C’mere.” Ricky grabs to his left, and pulls her in tight. Her face now fitting in the contour of his shoulder. “Always gonna be here. Forever.” He speaks into her neck.
“I don’t like not sleeping next to you.” She admits.
“What if we do and say we didn’t.. I’ll set an alarm for 6 and get out of here before Ash wakes?” He suggests, trailing his finger down her arm and back up to her shoulder. Gina hums in agreement, and burrows her body farther into the bed and closer to Ricky’s. They both close their eyes. Any stressful thoughts of double barrel names, sounds of loud CPAP machines, or shaky leg syndrome are long forgotten. It’s just them, and the sticky stars on the ceiling.