Holiday’s End

I just got back from dropping off our house guests at the coach station. They’re on their way to O’Hare now, and will soon be making their way over the Atlantic back to Scotland.

Mr. Shakes and M have been best mates for years and years, since they met working at a Costco’s-like store, collecting shopping carts, while they were at university. They couldn’t look more different, although they’re approximately the same size and shape. Mr. Shakes is ginger-haired, pale-skinned, green-eyed, and freckled, and M is dark-haired with an olive complexion and brown eyes. Yesterday, they were asked by a cashier if they are brothers. It seems laughable, considering their disparate appearances, but their mannerisms and speech patterns are so similar; one of them will come forth with some smart-arsed comment to be met with a loud, belly laugh from the other, and their eyes both twinkle devilishly. I can understand why someone might think they were brothers, because they are two peas in a pod, if ever there were a pair who could be called so.

It should be no surprise then, I guess, that N (M’s girlfriend) and I are quite alike. We’ve come to look forward to the nights when the boys go out, so we can stay in together with a bottle (or three) of pinot grigio and scare ourselves with one of the creepfests we both love, like 28 Days Later, or moon over a romance like Love, Actually. And there’s always at least one afternoon when we’ve got to get into our jammies and put on the DVDs of Sex and the City. The boys roll their eyes and go play video games—and it’s fine with N and me, because, in a splendid twist of fate, we get on brilliantly, too.

And when the four of us are all together, we talk about anything and everything under the sun, and we tell stories, and we laugh until the tears fall from our eyes. And we lament the ocean that normally lies between us.

Ten days can feel like a very long time to have visitors in one’s home, but M&N are perfect houseguests along with being wonderful friends. I never longed to have my house back or despaired for a moment’s peace. Instead, the house now feels empty and quiet, and I am sad that they’re gone.

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