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The Tradition
The automatic doors slid open and Matt wheeled in, inhaling lumber and metal and industrial adhesive. This was home.
“You’re way too excited about duct tape,” Lucy said.
“Damn right I am.” He pushed off before she finished. “I missed this for two years. Ben had to settle for regular duct tape while I was in rehab.”
“Tragic.”
“Tragic, Lucy. A dark time.”
The aisle came into view. The whole wall, floor to ceiling, every color and pattern the store had.
“We have to be strategic.”
“Mm-hm. Neon green?”
“Obviously.” He took it from her and dropped it in the basket. “For emergencies.”
“What emergencies.”
“Any of them. That’s the point.”
“Oh—oh no.”
Flamingos.
“He’s going to hate it.”
“He’s going to love it.”
It went in the pile.
“You’re going to make him regret saving your life.”
“He wouldn’t dare. I’m his favorite disaster.”
They worked the wall. Whatever caught his eye went in. Lucy reached high for him.
“Remember what Ben did to the coffee maker?”
“That was an engineering masterpiece.”
“It was a crime.”
“He stands by it.”
“He would—wait. Rainbows.”
“Oh, that’s cruel,” he said. “That’s cruel. Put it in.”
The basket was full. They went to the register. He pulled out his new card and paid. Left-hand signature. Out in the parking lot, he transferred into the driver’s seat. Lucy loaded the chair and got in herself.
“Thanks for coming with me, Luce.”
“You’re such a dork.”
Josh elbowed the door open, both hands full of takeout.
“Hey, I got—”
There was a box on the coffee table. Open. Duct tape spilling out everywhere. Ben was in the middle of it, turning a roll of something shiny over in his hand.
“Uh,” Josh said.
“Check this out.”
“…That’s glitter.”
“It’s gold glitter. There’s a silver one too.”
Josh set the bags on the counter. Walked over. Pineapples. Tie-dye. A roll printed with tiny donuts. One that looked like brushed steel until you saw the holograms shift. Something with little green aliens on it.
“What is this.”
“Birthday present. From Matt.”
“He got you duct tape for your birthday?”
“Every year.” Ben pulled another one out of the box. “Oh my god. Josh. Josh, look.”
“I’m looking.”
“Flamingos.”
“I see that.”
“Okay. Okay.” Ben dug through the box and came up with a full roll of yellow police-line tape. DO NOT CROSS. He held it up, grinning like an idiot.
“Where does he even find this stuff?”
“No idea. He really outdid himself this year.”
The guy had picked out a whole box of novelty duct tape for Ben.
“I don’t get it,” Josh said.
“Yeah.” Ben was already reaching for another roll. Astronauts. “Oh, come on.”
“Dinner’s getting cold.”
“Yeah, hold on.”
Josh watched him.
Then he went to get plates.
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