Member-only story
Party Animal
Turning thirty can be scary
When we first moved to Los Angeles, Mike and I were 25. We were beginning our doctoral degrees in different areas of the city, so we decided to live in an apartment complex in the middle — Green View Terrace.
We drove directly to California from Ohio with our tuxedo cat Molly, who meowed angrily when she wasn’t vomiting. We traveled for a total of three days, stopping at motels along the way.
When we arrived, I took one look at the stairs leading up to our apartment and sighed. Unpacking the U-Haul was not going to bring either of us much joy.
A few hours later, as were trying to angle our sofa through the door, Mike and I heard someone screaming at us.
Hey axe murderer! Nice hair!
Mike’s hair was bushy and unruly, to the point where people in Ohio mistook him for a woman.
We both looked up in surprise. The sofa slipped a little from my hands.
Mallory, be careful! Don’t drop it, ok? I’ve got this end. Just keep lifting as hard as you can.
It slipped some more.
Ok put it down.
When I glanced at Mike he was looking at someone. I turned around.
