Chapter 4 #3
Turning off the vacuum, I give her the “one minute” finger, scurrying through our home, appliance in hand, to retrieve my hearing aids. Aids in place, I gingerly slide the rocker switch as I find Andrea before me in the living room.
Her eyes bounce around the room, admiring the results of my cleaning bender. “Wow!” I can now hear her say. “That bad of a day?”
Our apartment is never this tidy.
“Something like that.”
I tuck the vacuum back into the closet and come to sit next to her on the couch.
“Was it Creepy Craig?” she inquires.
“Tuna breath was tame today.”
She skates her knuckle back and forth over her lips.
“Was someone mean to you? Do I need to hurt them?!”
I laugh at the suggestion. She was the kind of friend who couldn’t hide what she was thinking from her face. Her features were intense, as she probably debated accompanying me to work next time. Andrea has never had a problem speaking her mind.
“Easy, tiger. No one was mean.” I take a deep breath, deciding what to tell her. “It was an uneventful workday,” I lie. I can’t right now. My legs are sore, and I just sweat my butt off, so I wouldn’t have to think about this, I’m not about to bring it back up.
“I think I’m…” I pause, suddenly feeling guilty. My best friend just wants to know I’m okay. Do I share my hypothesis with her?
I imagine how I would sound. Help, I think I have a stalker! They’ve sent me a menacing earbud twice! Really, Cindel, listen to yourself.
“When’s the last time you saw your therapist?” I can practically hear my mother ask me. I’m troubled enough without bringing my best friend into whatever this is.
“I’m tired,” I finally say. “I think I need a break.”
She looks thoughtfully at me, almost a little sad that she can’t fix what’s going on. “Look, I have tomorrow off. I’ll stay in, rest, and get some crafting done.”
She crosses her arms against her chest. “You work too hard,” she chides.
This I know to be true, but If I don’t work both these jobs, we won’t make rent. We would have to start skipping at least one meal each day.
“I know, but so do you… you’re never here. Always off, saving the world with your graphic designs!”
Andrea pulls me into a tight hug. Her embrace is progressively becoming tighter.
“Thank you for always being there for me. You're my best friend.”
She holds me tighter still.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but… I do deserve air. Air! Need air!” I squeal.
She laughs, releasing me from her loving crush of death. She holds my shoulders as I intake big gulps of precious oxygen.
“Cindel, you are my whole world. It’s me who doesn’t deserve your friendship.”
Maybe I’m just tired or reading too much into things, but she looks sad for a brief moment. Like some kind of over-caffeinated bunny, Andrea hops up from her place beside me.
“I’m going to start heating up the leftover Chinese. You pick a movie. Make sure it’s something with lots of action, but ends happily,” she instructs.
“Yes, ma’am!”
I searched through our collection of DVDs before deciding on a classic from 1994. A dashing Keanu Reeves navigates a dangerous situation on a bus full of people with such ease; it makes my current dilemma seem miniscule.
The smell of artery clogging takeout fills our living space, as she carries over the containers of lo mein, spring rolls, and the last bit of wonton soup.
“Oooo, good choice! I just read that there’s talk of a Speed 3 coming out!” She informs me before plopping down on the couch.
Andrea falls asleep about an hour into the movie. She was either tired, or her body went into some kind of food coma due to the rarity of having fast food.
I mute the sound, letting the closed captions continue. I don’t want to wake her. I prefer reading the words on the screen anyway, as opposed to struggling to hear the soft voices, in contrast to the booming sound effects.
The ending is, of course, joyful. Although, I have to wonder if all their perilous situations helped thrust the two lead characters together or was there also an underlying chemistry?
Regardless, it was a wild ride that ended well for everyone, except the bad guys.
Too bad, Mr. Reeves can't show up and help me with my shitty situation.
I hadn’t been in my bedroom since I threw the black box onto my bed.
Entering the room, I immediately grab the disturbing gift and bury it in my closet.
It now sits behind three shoe boxes, a collection of unfinished crafts, and a heavy pile of thrifted clothes I have yet to upcycle. There. Out of sight, out of mind!
I draw my curtains and double check the locks on the windows, and the front door before crawling into bed.
Andrea was out for the night, and her soft snores were the last thing I heard before disconnecting.
My body felt heavier than my mind, struggling to sync with the hum buzzing in my head.
I imagine myself, a beautiful young Sandra Bullock just opening my eyes after a catastrophic explosion.
In this scenario, no one is screaming or crying.
Everyone is elated they made it out alive.
The danger is gone, and everyone can continue living their perfectly normal lives.
Sickly inaccurate, depiction. My story isn’t so pretty.