Apr. 5th, 2017

Part 5

Apr. 5th, 2017 06:07 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “You wanna get Chinese tonight?”

Several months after the “barn incident”, as we’re calling it (well actually I just call it that in my head, we haven’t talked about it), we’re rooming together in a moderately-priced apartment in a decent neighborhood near our college campus. Originally she was going to stay with her boyfriend, but they broke up at the end of that summer. She’d called me in the middle of the night, in tears, and despite having an early shift the next morning I’d spent two hours consoling her, reestablishing her self-esteem, and reluctantly but emphatically convincing her not to break into his car and smear dog shit all over the dashboard or commit any similar crimes of passion. I was a little nervous because we’d never shared a room before, but she’s tidier than I’d imagined and always replaces the toilet paper, which is really all I ask. Neither of us cook – between school and working part time we don’t really get the chance– so we order out just about every night. 

“Fine with me.”

I’m working on getting rid of the dirty dishes in the sink before we add more to the pile. I fucking hate doing dishes so I insist upon wearing these elbow-length purple rubber gloves with elephant faces on them that I found in the “lifestyle” section in Wassermann’s, which I am mercilessly mocked for, but they keep my skin dry. The water is so hot I almost can’t feel it. The television blares “The Big Bang Theory” which I cannot stand but she finds compelling. Every time she watches she tries to convince me there’s some kind of coded message hidden in the laugh track but I think it’s wishful thinking.

I’m discovering that the sounds of canned laughter and rushing water combined give me a weird tingly sensation in the back of my brain when I’m startled by a sharp intake of breath and the clatter of a phone hitting the floor.

“Oh my god,”

“What, what, did something happen?”

Alarmed, I waddle over into the living room with the gloves still on my hands, holding them out to avoid dripping on myself.

“I-I fucking-”

She takes a shaky breath to steady herself before turning to me with panic in her eyes.

“I swear to god I am not fucking with you.”

“What?”

“Ughhh, you’re not gonna believe me.”

Her fear seems to dissipate as she deflates in defeat, burying her face in her hands with a sigh that ends in a sob.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Ugh! …Okay, so I was on Snapchat just now, and there was this fucking guy, and-”

“What? When were you on Snapchat, I thought you were ordering the food?”

“Okay, I was about to, alright, but I saw that Jason posted a story and-”

I straighten, looking down at her through narrowed eyes.

“Wait, are you fucking serious? Jason? Why are you still looking at his Snaps?”

“Ughhhh oh my god, can we please not-”

“I told you this isn’t healthy! You can’t cyber-stalk your exes and remain a normal person! It does shit to you. And you know I know from experience.”

“Okay, but it isn’t the same, we didn’t have a messy breakup, he said we could be friends-”

“Are you kidding me?! He broke up with you over text.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t messy, it was like, detached and stuff. Emotionless.”

“Uh, it wasn’t emotionless for you. You called me sobbing-”

“Okay, I was a mess but it wasn’t a mess and I’m pretty much over him anyway and I just check in to see if he’s doing okay I’m not stalking him like, fuck, why am I not allowed to watch someone’s Snap stories?! Who am I hurting?!”

“You’re hurting yourself-”

“Well I feel fine!”

This she yells, finally standing up for herself after being on the defensive. Glaring at me, she swipes her phone up from the floor and aggressively punches in her lock code. 

“Fuck it, I don’t need this.”

She stands and stomps off to her room leaving the TV on, which she knows I hate. I’m left standing in the middle of the living room, dripping into the carpet. My arms now stiff from holding them in front of me. I feel ridiculous and I let them fall to my sides, water immediately seeping through my jeans to my skin. I can’t turn the TV off because of the gloves, so I shuffle back to the sink to the sound of a live studio audience losing their minds.

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