Chapter 20 #3
Déjà kicked off her heels, then sat on the bed and flipped channels. “Not sure I can make myself more at home than Micah just did by taping a knife under the table. You two are so cute it’s sickening. You know that, right?”
Micah scrubbed at his arm, sat on the bed beside Déjà, then stood and peered through the curtain again.
Cosmo sighed, then set a pot of salted water on to boil and took out the cutting board.
Maybe Micah would relax once he had some food in him and was satisfied that Zedd wasn’t lurking. This should be a celebration!
Cosmo crushed cloves of garlic with the flat of a knife, then minced them and began peeling the skin off the shallots.
Thank goodness he made this dish regularly enough to have all the ingredients needed for a bigger batch.
Though he wasn’t sure if the amount of cheese in the fridge counted as “criminal.”
When the water started to boil, he poured in the penne and pulled out a skillet for the sauce.
Déjà stopped in the kitchen and leaned against the wall, staring at her phone. She tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear. “Were you at Rye’s party?”
“Yes. Micah and I danced, and he made so many romantic pledges that I’m going to have to make a list on the fridge to keep track of which ones he’s fulfilled.”
“I thought that was your hair I spotted in this pic.” She frowned and swiped across the screen.
Cosmo wasn’t sure he should ask, especially since he thought he knew the answer, but he said, “You and Rye did get together, didn’t you? But you broke up.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes suddenly watery.
“Yeah. Couple months ago. You know how it goes. You get into a fight over something ridiculous that doesn’t even matter, then you say things you don’t mean just to hurt them.
They do it back to you, and before you know it you’re alone on your couch eating ice cream out of the tub. ”
Yes, Cosmo knew exactly how that felt.
“Or standing in front of the open fridge eating shredded cheese out of the bag.” Micah stopped beside Cosmo, then pulled a wooden spoon from the utensils container and stirred the noodles.
Déjà chuckled. “I’ve done that too.”
Apparently no one had heard Cosmo when he said he wanted to work alone in the kitchen, but he could hardly be upset that they were here keeping him company.
There’d been times when Cosmo had waited for one of his inamorates to reach out first after an argument, to apologize, and he would have taken them back.
But they didn’t, and Cosmo had believed that meant they didn’t want to have anything to do with him.
That had happened with Déjà too. But maybe they’d all been waiting for him to reach out.
On the other timeline, Cosmo had thrown himself into Micah’s arms after their breakup. On this snagged thread, it had been Micah finding Cosmo. They both still wanted each other.
“Do you still love Rye?” Cosmo asked.
Déjà shrugged, but a tear rolled down her cheek.
She blinked rapidly, her false lashes wet.
Cosmo set down his chopping knife and pulled her into a tight hug.
“Call them. The longer you let this go on, the harder it will be to repair. Or go crash their party. I won’t be offended if you leave before dinner.
It just means Micah will have to eat more pasta. ”
Micah made a shooing gesture at Déjà and whispered, “Go, go, go.”
Her laugh was part sob. She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m being such a bummer. I–”
“Please.” Cosmo put his hand on his hip. “I have cried on you more times than I can count. You have every right.”
“It’s just that… Rye plans their Halloween parties months in advance.
We were going to be a retro angel and devil couple.
And” – Déjà’s chest hitched – “and I told Rye I wanted to be the angel, but they didn’t want to be the devil because it was this skin-tight, itchy bodysuit and they have sensory issues.
I said they could wear something more comfortable, but they just wanted me to be the devil instead.
We argued about it, and the fight was so stupid.
After that, it seems like the stupid fights just started to increase.
And I don’t know why I decided to look at their pics from the party tonight; maybe I thought it would make me angrier at them and the breakup would hurt less.
But – But they’re wearing the devil costume.
Why would they–” Her words dissolved into harsh sobs.
“Will you watch the pasta for me?” Cosmo asked Micah.
He ushered Déjà back into the front room and sat with her on the bed as she cried into his shoulder. He rubbed her back until her shudders ebbed.
Micah disappeared into the bathroom, then came back with a box of tissues, which he set on the coffee table and nudged toward Déjà. “Clearly Rye has joined a demonic cult that requires members to endure wedgies and getting glitter stuck in their eye. There’s no other explanation.”
Déjà laughed. She pulled a tissue from the box and dabbed at her face. “Why do such odd things come out of your mouth?”
“Don’t go trying to rescue them. You’ll only risk getting indoctrinated into a world of scratchy polyester and having your tail get closed in doors. I’ve seen this before.”
Cosmo bit his lip and stared at Micah with what must have been a bit too much desire, because Micah smiled shyly and scrubbed the back of his neck. He excused himself to go stir the pasta.
Pulling out her phone, Déjà said, “I’m willing to risk it.” She typed something out, then blew out a breath and picked up the three-ringed binder she’d brought in from her car. “I can’t leave yet, though. I have something to show you.”
The binder had a tiny oil painting affixed to the front: an unsettling anatomical blob – one of her ghosts – sitting in a fancy goblet surrounded by grapes and pears. She said, “My mom thought I’d be into scrapbooking because it’s ‘artsy.’”
Cosmo gagged. “Ew. There’s nothing wrong with craft hobbies, but they aren’t the same thing as fine art. You told her that, of course.”
“You’ve never met my mom. I’m not going to tell her that. Anyway, I’ve had this book and all the ephemera sitting in my closet for a long time, and I finally thought of a use for it.”
“You filled it with your art?” He hadn’t seen anything new of hers in years. “I can’t wait to see!”
“There are some little pieces, yeah, but that’s not the focus.” She ran her hand across the cover. “Do you remember how everyone filled that cremation urn with notes to you at your funeral party? You never took them home. I don’t know if you even read them.”
He’d been so upset at the time that he’d abandoned all of the decor and party supplies, including an ice cooler and a card table. “I didn’t. I forgot about that, actually.”
“I went back to the church the next day.” Her expression fell, wet lashes fluttering. “I sat there and cried over losing you as I read all the notes from that urn. I wanted to give them to you, but I was also pissed and tired, so I never did. I think it’s about time you got them back, though.”
She cracked open the book and set it in his lap. Strips of paper ran in rows down the decorative page. An ink sketch of a decrepit church beneath a glittering moon sat at the bottom of the page.
Some people make art, but you are art. You embody the creative spirit we all strive for.
We’ve only met a couple of times, but you are kind and sweet, and I wish I had half of your style.
I have no doubt your mind is a fascinating place to be. You’re a fixture of the art scene, and I can’t wait to see what you do in the future.
You have a good soul, and I wish nothing but good things for you. I hope all your dreams come true.
Don’t ever stop being yourself, Cosmo.
The notes distorted in Cosmo’s vision. People had written about his mind, and his creativity, and his soul.
They were the antithesis of every comment on his Flashbulb pics.
“Thank you. You put so much–” The words lodged in his throat.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars.
Déjà said, “You have to promise me that when you start to feel shit about yourself, you open this book and read those notes.”
Cosmo nodded. “This is such a lovely gift. Micah, come see this.”
It was all he’d wanted from his funeral party.
He’d needed that reminder that people cared, and instead he’d gotten into a fist fight with Zedd, and Déjà had broken up their friendship.
Even with time being tangled, he couldn’t go back and fix that.
That version of himself would always feel worthless and alone, wanted only for his external beauty.
But it was hard to believe he had no inner worth when there was physical evidence to the contrary.
Maybe he would read one note every day and commit it to memory.
Micah sat on the bed beside Cosmo and looked over the notes. He smiled and kissed Cosmo’s temple. “Those are lovely. And they’re all true.”
Déjà’s phone vibrated on the coffee table.
She picked it up and pressed it to her generous bosom, then blew out a slow breath and looked at the screen.
Her face contorted, eyes filling with tears, and Cosmo hoped Micah didn’t make another satanic cult joke because it wasn’t going to be funny this time around.
Her breath ratcheted, and she snatched a tissue from the box.
Cosmo sighed. She’d been there for him so many times when it had been him furiously pressing tissues to his face, but seeing her in pain hurt almost as much.
He started to pull her close, but she said, “Rye says they’re a mess without me. That they think about me every day.”
“Aww!” Happy tears, then. That was so much better.
When Cosmo had met Micah at the soda shop after their argument, he wasn’t sure if their relationship still had a chance.
Micah had said as much on the phone. But he’d fidgeted and blushed and had looked like he’d melt sooner than the milkshakes, so Cosmo was grateful he’d been overt in trying to get Micah back.
It didn’t seem like Déjà would need to do much to repair things either.
She scrolled up on her phone’s screen, then snorted and dabbed her eyes. “Rye says they desperately wish I’d been around to tell them not to make the punch red at the party because Kevin just spilled it all over the carpet.”
Cosmo headed into the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. He handed Déjà a can of club soda. “This might help. Now go. Get your beloved back. Micah and I will be just fine here alone. Won’t we?”
Micah nodded, but he pressed his hand beneath the coffee table where he’d taped his knife. Was he still not convinced Zedd was gone for good?
Déjà flicked her hair over her shoulder, pushed up her cleavage, then headed for the door. “Wish me luck.”
“I don’t think you need it, but good luck, darling.”
“Let me walk you to your car,” Micah said.
She frowned, her hand on the doorknob. “It’s only twenty feet away.”
“And you can’t run from Jason Voorhees in stilettos.”
Maybe Cosmo needed to change the TV to something more wholesome. “Those are wedge heels, Micah.”
“Oh. My mistake. You’re fine, then.” He opened the door and ushered Déjà out. “But just in case.”
Cosmo went back to finish dinner – he hadn’t even chopped the shallots yet – and eyed Zedd’s note on the counter.
Micah was being paranoid, and Cosmo wouldn’t hold it against the poor love since he had history with being attacked in his home, but every second Micah was outside was dialing up Cosmo’s doubt.
He needed to convince Micah everything was fine otherwise they’d both be reaching for that knife under the coffee table.