dylan's house

People are like a house with a thousand walls. As I sat across Dylan, and later her best friend, Eugenia, I could only see so many facets from my seat. I tried my best to walk around, to hop over the fence, to slip through the cracks. I walked forth, but when I walked back, there would be more windows, more flowers, a bird feeder, a hula hoop leaning against the hose. But there’s only so much of the house I can see at a time, so there’s only so much I can say.

Let’s begin with the front door–logical starting point. Dylan, 22 years old, psychology major with a minor in French. Eugenia, similar–marketing minor instead. Both from Manhattan, New York. They hang out nearly every day after classes. They first met through a mutual friend who knew they were both to attend WashU. In their free time, they often go to an Italian restaurant on Forsyth called Pastaria or watch shows such as Severance or White Lotus together. Both seem to enjoy the faster pace of life. “New York City, you have to be very street smart,” said Eugenia. “Me personally, I'm always on edge. I'm always running from place to place. That kind of really fast paced environment is where we learned to thrive.” Dylan talked about how she used to spend time at her mother’s office when she worked in the sales department of small fashion companies. “I feel like I always had fun because everyone was busy and fashion's very stressful and high paced, so nobody was really paying attention to me. I just got to walk around on my own and explore.”

Interesting. I asked Eugenia if she could tell me how the two of them were different. She said she didn’t know. I asked them if they ever fought over anything. Nothing serious. So I sat down on the porch, listening to all of Dylan’s quips through the window.

“I have always been a very opinionated person. My mom used to work at this company and the guy who started the company and was the head designer. They were running through the line that he was in the process of designing for the next season. And they brought out this one sample of a dress that I just thought was ugly. And so I said that's ugly. My mom literally looked at me like I'm gonna kill you later.” She laughed. “And everyone in the room was just like, okay. And he said you know what? I really appreciate that feedback.”

“I'm a big Christmas person. I take it very seriously. I love the winter. I grew up with two other families and one of their sons is my age, so we've been super close my whole life, and we used to always FaceTime before we went to bed. And I'd be like, I'm putting a spoon under my pillow. Tomorrow is a snow day.”

“My family’s Sicilian and I particularly like the way they prepare seafood in Southern Italy. My nana always pulls out all the stops. We celebrate Christmas Eve more so we have a giant feast but there's the seven fishes. I can't eat a lot of stuff anymore because I developed an allergy to mussels and clams. But, man, when I could, that was my heyday.”

I loved every detail. Each thing was more interesting than the last. Not for a second did I consider any of this an interview or an open house; it was more like driving in the corners of your hometown you never bothered to comb through. I was experiencing a personality I never would normally have. I was running my hand across the tiling of the roof, the grooves in the walls, and just enjoying the act of receiving information. So I tried to peek through the windows next.

“My family is pretty Catholic because they're Italians. I fear they go hand in hand. I'm kind of a bad Catholic, to be honest, because I just never go to mass.”

“I really like to cook, so I cook. I'll read. It's pretty under control now, but I have OCD, so I clean my apartment a lot. When in doubt, clean the apartment.”

“I have always been very hard on myself. My family is really not hard on me. My dad is good at everything, and I was not as a kid. And it's kind of crippling, and then I feel stupid because I'm the only person that's putting this pressure on me. Then I go down a whole spiral of ‘you're actually ridiculous’. I am privileged to be stressed about this. Get a grip. So that's how that goes, typically.”

I just took in everything that was said to me. Plus, the lawn is nice here. I was crouching down, nearly pressing my face into the dirt, to peek at a crack where the two houses meet and decided to go for it. “You both are training for a marathon, right?”

“A life goal of mine is to run the New York City marathon,” said Eugenia. “Because my mom did it, my dad did it, each once. And then my older brother has run it four or five times.” It seemed like athleticism ran in both families. Dylan’s mother now works as a pilates instructor. Her father is “the most athletic person that has ever existed on the planet”.

“Dylan signed up for the St. Louis half marathon, which is April 26, so coming pretty soon,” Eugenia continued. “I wasn't planning on running it and then signed up last minute. So we’ve been training for that. Monday is a rest day. Tuesday is an easy run. Wednesday is also an easy run. Thursday is cross training and strength. Friday is an easy run. Saturday is a rest day, and Sunday is the long run. ”

“I think it really pushes your body to the physical limits. There's not a lot of sports where you're guaranteed to get to the point where you're like, oh, I actually can't go on, but you have to. I think that's very interesting. It's a unique experience to reach your limit and you’re literally about to collapse and throw up, and you have to keep going. I feel like it’s very mentally strengthening.”

“I love running on the treadmill. She hates running on the treadmill," Eugenia said. “So usually she'll run outside. The treadmill is so monotonous and really psychologically difficult because you pick a spot in the wall and you stare at it for two hours. I love it because it feels easier. You don't really have the wind pushing you back. You don't have any issues with level ground, things like that.”

“Mhmm,” I said as I typed everything down. “So training’s been good?” Eugenia nods. “Yeah. I think after you run five miles without stopping, it's kind of like you're across that barrier, that wall.”

What an interesting house, or rather, pair of houses. What a totally different life they lead from mine. My nearly sedentary, winter-hating, suburban life. “Here’s a silly question,” I tell Eugenia. “Cowboy, pirate or samurai?”

She laughs. “Oh my god, I asked my boyfriend this literally three days ago. I mean, I think I would pick samurai because I don't want to be constantly hot as a cowboy or be on a ship forever as a pirate.”

“I feel like cowboys are inherently kind of racist, so I would not wanna live that lifestyle,” Dylan said, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “And I don't really think I have the, like, physical agility to be a samurai. So I guess pirate.”

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