Friday, July 3
I’m ready to play.
It’s been a while since I’ve done an escape room. I love games, but sometimes it feels like there’s so much pressure to solve the puzzle, and I don’t like being seen as someone who isn’t smart enough. This insecurity is also why I hate Scrabble. Everyone swears I’ll dominate that game because I’m a writer, as if I know every single word in the human language. Then I freeze up and play words like “stick” and “car.” The only game of Scrabble that didn’t make me want to break things was online against Arthur senior year. We both immediately lost interest and ended up screenshotting the board so we could write in a bunch of dirty words with the Paint app.
But, you know what? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t hate Scrabble with Mario either. I bet it would even be relaxing to play against him, because I know he doesn’t care if my biggest contribution to Scrabble is a three-letter word. Just like he won’t care if I don’t contribute in this escape room.
We’re all in the lobby, waiting for the infamous Patrick. Mario is texting away on the orange couch. Dylan is staring at the leaderboard, muttering about how there’s no way we’re going to win with Patrick on our team. I’m going through the basket of victory/defeat foam signs, excited to see how this all plays out.
“Unbelievable,” Dylan says. “This guy is so late.”
“Why’d you invite him?” Mario asks, looking up from his phone. “You seem to hate him.”
“Because I love my girlfriend and—” Dylan puts up air quotes and mockingly says, “I have to be nice to her best friend because she’s nice to mine.” He rolls his eyes and points at me. “Who couldn’t love this freckled angel?”
“For real,” Mario says.
Those words hit me differently. Is he trying to say that he loves me? I mean, do people move in with each other if they’re not in love? Do they move across the country for them if they’re not in love? I’ve got to ask myself the same question: Do I love him?
I love spending time with him, I love how much we fit together, but do I love him?
I should know this.
The escape room employee, Liam, comes from around the counter, wiping his glasses clean. “Your time starts in three minutes. Is your fourth almost here?” he asks in an English accent.
“Fantastic question, Liam. Let me call that bastard,” Dylan says.
He pulls out his phone right as a model-like guy walks in. He has black curly hair and a strong jawline and apologetic brown eyes and he’s so pale I think I can make out some sunscreen on his face; he’s like a sad vampire. “Dylan, dude, I am so sorry. I would blame the subway, but I should’ve left half an hour earlier.”
It’s Patrick.
“It’s fine,” Dylan mumbles.
“You must be Ben and Mario,” Patrick says, shaking our hands with both of his. “Dylan talks about you all the time.”
“He’s said a few things about you, too,” I say.
Patrick touches his heart. “Aw, that’s sweet.”
Mario’s loud ringtone blares. “It’s the moving company,” he says. “Un momento.”
“But—”
I know dealing with the moving truck is really important, especially because Mario bumped his move date up to Monday. But I really want this memory with him.
We put our belongings in lockers and Liam breaks down the dos and don’ts of escape rooms while we wait for Mario—luckily, Mario already knows how to play. The rules are simple: we have an hour to escape and can ask for clues at any time.
“The theme is the Z-Virus,” Liam says, running a hand through his blond hair. “A global pandemic is turning people into zombies. Very scary stuff. Your mission is to explore the abandoned laboratory and escape with the antidote. Or the world is over.”
Patrick pretends to shiver in fear. “Ooh. We’ve got our work cut out for us!”
Dylan pretends to stab Patrick in the back.
“Are you ready to begin?” Liam asks, opening the door to the room.
“Oh, uh, Mario should be back any moment,” I say.
Liam checks his watch. “There’s a party coming after you. We really have to begin.”
Dylan’s eyes widen. “Uh. What happens if we don’t escape?”
“How do you mean?” Liam asks dryly.
“I feel as if my question is clear.”
“Narratively or in reality?”
“Both?” Dylan asks.
“Narratively, you die. In reality, we let you out.”
Dylan nods his head, slowly, like he’s digesting this response. “What if…” He turns back to the front door, where Mario is still outside on the phone. “What if we don’t want to leave the room?”
“Are you stalling?” Liam asks.
“How dare—”
“Well, this is your reservation time. If you don’t go now, we’re still charging you. You have thirty seconds before I close the door.”
Dylan does this low growl. He turns to me and Patrick. “So it’s just us…”
Patrick rubs his hands together. “I’m so excited! It’s my first time.” He steps inside.
“Kill me,” Dylan says.
“Ten seconds,” Liam says.
“I’m going to grab Mario,” I say.
Dylan grabs me by the wrist and drags me inside.
Liam closes the door behind us.
“D!”
“There’s no way in hell I was going to be locked alone in a room with Patrick for a whole hour,” Dylan whispers.
“And now I don’t have Mario.”
“You’ll live.” Dylan points at Patrick. “He wouldn’t have.”
This sucks. No leaving early without forfeiting. Maybe Liam will have a heart and break the rules by letting Mario in.
The laboratory has a flashing red overhead light with a low alarm sound. It smells like Styrofoam and paint. There’s some dried fake blood over some documents and a dirty magnifying glass. Patrick puts on a lab coat with a torn sleeve.
“This is so cool,” Patrick says.
Dylan mouths-mocks him.
“Where do we start?” I ask, ignoring him.
Patrick picks up a first aid kit. “Maybe this is something.”
“Doubt it,” Dylan says.
I check out the first aid kit and there’s a combination lock. This is definitely something. We search for the numbers we need and Patrick quickly finds them inside the bloody documents. I let him have the honor of opening the kit himself. We find gloves, a stethoscope, a vial, and a key.
“Ha, they locked up a key,” Patrick says. “Clever.” He walks off with the key. “We should find the lock.”
“Sherlock Holmes,” Dylan mutters.
“D, he’s chill. Be nice.”
On the other side of the room, Patrick tries opening all the drawers in the desk. Dylan and I check some cabinets.
“Sorry about Mario. The move stress is catching up to him.”
“And now we have to survive the zombie apocalypse… and Patrick.”
Nonexistent zombies and one of the nicest people on the planet. How will we survive?
Some of us have real escapes we’re thinking about.
I keep thinking about how hard it was seeing Arthur and Mikey at the Pride parade. I guess I always thought I’d be the one showing Arthur his first New York Pride. It’s like I have a whole box of hypothetical Arthur moments tucked away in my brain. It mostly random stuff, like carving pumpkins or washing dishes. Or even just holding hands on the street, or linking arms the way Arthur and Mikey were.
Sometimes it feels like Arthur’s already living the life I always thought we’d share together.
But I know those what-ifs aren’t real. What’s real are the memories I’m going to make in California. With Mario.
“D, I got something to tell you.”
“I know you’re gay.”
“I want you to hear this from me first this time. I think I might leave with Mario on Monday.” Dylan stops rummaging through the cabinet. “What?!”
“The road trip would save me a lot of money.”
“You have never once shown interest in a road trip.”
“I’m trying to change my life.”
Dylan shakes his head. “You can’t. There’s a barbecue at Samantha’s house next weekend and I need you there.”
“Because of…?” I point at Patrick, who is messing with the hands of a clock. “You’ll be fine.”
“No, screw him. You have to be there. You can move after I’m gone, but I’m here.”
I close the cabinet. “Dylan, don’t you want me to have what you have?”
“Yes! But I also want you to…” Dylan takes a deep breath, then another, and starts counting down in cappuccinos. “Eight cappuccinos, seven cappuccinos—you can’t go. Trust me, Ben Hugo Alejo. I need you here. I will get you the money to fly to Los Angeles after next weekend. But you can’t leave me yet.”
I’m getting nervous. He’s not making any jokes about how he needs me around to make sweet love. And his breathing keeps increasing. “What’s going on?”
“Just don’t go.”
“Tell me why I should hang around this city that’s haunting me!”
“Because Samantha and I are having a surprise wedding next weekend because we’re also pregnant—surprise! She’s pregnant, I’m not pregnant, but you get it. And she’s asked me not to talk about the pregnancy to anyone, not even you, because we’ve been trying to figure everything out. Her family has been all over us, but now you know, and I need my best man around for the wedding! And it would be wonderful if the best man didn’t move to Los Angeles, since we’re moving back to New York so our families can help us—including you, the baby’s godfather!”
It’s quiet except for the sounds of Dylan breathing and zombies banging outside the door.
Over the speaker, Liam says, “Do you need a clue?”
Patrick shyly raises his hand. “Yes, please.”
Dylan snaps around, talking over Liam. “Why aren’t you invested in this bomb I dropped?”
Patrick cringes. “Samantha told me already…”
“WHAT?” Dylan’s head might explode. “But I wasn’t allowed to tell… Ben, you better show up to my wedding and object!”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Fine, I’ll stand her up.”
“She was scared,” Patrick says. “I’ve known her forever and—”
“I’ve known Ben longer than forever,” Dylan says.
“Is Samantha okay?” I ask.
“She’s fine, baby is great, all that.”
“Wait.” I grab him by the shoulders. “You’re going to be a dad.”
Dylan tears up and I do, too.
My best friend is going to be a dad—and a husband!
Patrick solves a puzzle and a blast of steam sprays from the wall. “I opened a vent,” he says, crawling into it and vanishing.
“You’re not going to be here,” Dylan says. “I always thought you would be here.”
“Look, I won’t go with Mario this week; don’t worry. I’m here. I just wish I could’ve supported you this entire time.”
“Ben Alejo, I love you. I’d never do this without you. I mean, I had to do it without you, but I couldn’t do it without you.” Dylan grabs my hand. “You have been there during all the major steps. I had you try on a suit so I could get it tailored. The café tasting was for the reception. The open mic night was so we could see the band perform live. Flower arrangements were for the wedding. And this”—he gestures at the escape room—“is my bachelor party!”
His mind is so extra.
“Oh my God, there’s going to be two of you.”
Dylan smiles like that devil emoji.
“I’m sorry I canceled on you so many times. Between the obstetrician appointments and how drained we’ve been from fighting with her family and figuring out the move back home, it’s been a lot. Mom and Pops have been frustrating, too. I hated not being able to talk to you about it, but I thought we weren’t telling anyone until…” Dylan looks around. “Where’s Patrick? Did the zombies get him?”
Patrick comes crawling out the vent with a little vial. “I solved the puzzle.”
“By yourself?” I ask.
“Yup.”
“Well done.”
“Liam helped him,” Dylan says.
Then Liam’s voice comes over the speaker: “No, I didn’t. You talked over me. Oh, and congratulations on the wedding and baby.”
Dylan stares at the camera and mutters, “Congrats on your wedding and your baby.”
“Not your best,” I say.
“Daddy brain.”
Patrick puts the vial inside a test tube rack and the door unlocks. “We did it!”
That wasn’t exactly a group effort, but he’s sweet to include us.
Mario is in the lobby and pops up from the couch when he sees us. “Alejo!”
“Hey. All good with the moving company?”
“It’ll be okay, but I’m so sorry I missed the escape room.”
I wrap my arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “That’s not all you missed.”