by S. H. Kolee
My brain scattered as I thought of Simon. Although I felt a modicum of relief that I hadn't seen his vision tonight, it was a small comfort after the brutality I had just witnessed. I just had to keep telling myself that it didn't matter when or where I would see the girl. Meeting her would give me a nasty jolt, but I wasn't foreseeing her death. My mind was just warped somehow. Maybe I was somewhat psychic, my mind being able to show me people in my future. Except some wires had been crossed, and my mind showed them in the context of death and violence.
I watched the demonstrator enthusiastically showing all the pasta shapes that the machine could make. Ziti, linguine, angel hair, even lasagna noodles. Maybe there was something to this pasta maker. That thought made me wonder if I was going crazy.
I spent the next few hours watching infomercial after infomercial until it lightened outside, the sun slowly rising and blanketing the room in a hazy glow. It was an eerie light, on the threshold of light and darkness, tipping from one extreme to the other. I wondered if my mind was on the threshold, fearing that it was tipping towards darkness.
**********
I returned to my room just after dawn broke, attempting to get some reading done for my marketing class. The familiar fatigue of getting no sleep after a vision was settling in, but I had a lot of practice functioning on a few hours of sleep.
By the time I left my room, it was eleven in the morning. Sarah was in the living room, watching some makeover show and eating cereal. She turned when she heard me approaching.
"I was starting to worry that you were sick since you never sleep so-" she broke off when she got a look at my face.
"Shit," she said quietly. "You had one."
I rubbed my eyes and tried to smile. "Wow, I must really look like hell."
"Simon?" she asked, looking concerned.
"No, a new one."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not now. It's still too fresh," I replied, gentling my refusal to share with a smile. "But thanks. Maybe later."
Sarah frowned but she didn't push me. She knew that I was struggling with images I wanted to forget. "What time do you start work today?"
"One," I replied, glancing at the clock. I had plenty of time to get ready.
"What time do you get off?"
"Eight," I said. "Why?"
Sarah looked at me guiltily. "Grant asked me to come over today. He wants help with some new promotional fliers he's creating. I think Simon's coming over too."
I gave Sarah a small smile. "Sarah, you're allowed to hang out with Simon. I mean, I'm supposedly still friends with him, so it's not like I have anything against him. If anything, I feel badly towards him."
"But I don't want to leave you alone!" Sarah exclaimed. "I'll just tell him I can't come over."
"To do what?" I asked, raising a brow. "To sit in the apartment alone while I'm at work? That's ridiculous. Go and have fun." I didn't want Sarah to be burdened with this. Besides, being the only one in the group with a job, I was used to missing out on some get-togethers because of work. This was nothing new. The prospect that Simon might be there didn't change anything.
"Maybe I should come to Colette's with you," Sarah said, with a concerned frown. "I could just hang out while you work."
"Sarah," I laughed. "I doubt Colleen wants you hanging around while I work, nursing a cup of coffee for hours and taking the place of someone wanting to buy food. I'll be busy and not thinking about anything besides whether someone wants their burger well done or medium rare." I smiled at her fondly. "But thanks. I appreciate the offer. But go knock some sense into Grant with your come-hither looks."
Sarah squealed and threw a pillow from the couch at me. I leaned to the side to dodge it, laughing. "I do not give him come-hither looks!" she protested indignantly
I held up my hands in appeasement. "Okay, okay. I was just joking. I gotta take a shower. Have fun."
Sarah was gone by the time I got out of the shower. I was dragging my feet as I got ready, trying not to think of Simon or the girl in my vision. When I walked outside and down the stairs, I used every ounce of will power I had not to glance at Grant and Marcus' window to try and catch a glimpse of Simon.
I worked my shift at Colette's on autopilot. It was bustling enough where I was kept busy, but not so hectic that I had to do much concentrating. Fortunately, Emily was the other waitress on duty. I didn't think I could take Marnie's incessant talking today, especially since she would probably want to talk about the Henchmen's show last night. I had seen a glimpse of her last night, but she had been across the bar, separated by a rowdy crowd. I had intended to say hi to her later on in the night, until things had taken a turn for the worse and all thoughts of being friendly were forgotten.
Colleen seemed to sense my mood and kept her wisecracks to a minimum. After my shift was over, I dragged myself back home. Sarah was in the apartment and I smelled the aroma of fast food wafting in the air. My stomach growled and I was surprised that I was hungry. Loss of appetite was common after a vision, but my stomach seemed to be demanding food. I often ate a meal at Colette's during a shift, but I usually refrained from eating dinner there if I was going to be home at a decent hour. Sarah and I usually tried to eat dinner together.
"Surprise!" Sarah announced gleefully, clutching a red and white striped bucket in her hands. "I figured we could use a little indulgence tonight. The Colonel will fix whatever ails us."
I shrugged off my coat, feeling my hunger sharpen. "You're a lifesaver," I said. "I'm starving."
We spread out the food on the coffee table, which consisted of way too much fried chicken and biscuits for two people alongside large containers of cole slaw and mashed potatoes.
"How did the brain trust for the Henchmen's promotional campaign go?" I said, afraid to ask in case she mentioned Simon, but also apprehensive that my lack of inquiry would be too obvious.
"It was good," Sarah said, choosing a drumstick from the bucket. "Grant had some good ideas about spreading the word about the Henchmen although I don't know if it's necessary. After last night, it seems everyone knows they're back, new and improved." She hesitated, looking up from her chicken. "I don't know whether or not it's okay to mention Simon."
I forced a laugh, hearing it ring falsely in my ears. I wondered if Simon and I were really going to be friends or if it would be awkward between us now. I had wanted to avoid any awkwardness that may have happened if we had dated and things hadn't worked out, but it seemed it was now inevitable regardless of our dating status, or lack thereof. "Of course you can mention him, Sarah. We agreed to be friends."
"Okay," she said slowly, peeling a piece of meat off her drumstick. "Simon was there." She looked up quickly. "So was Samantha."
"Oh," I said, feeling as if an arrow had pierced my heart. I masked it with a smile. "Well, I can't say much for Simon's taste, but that's okay. He's allowed to date whoever he wants." I shrugged. "If he wants to catch gonorrhea, that's his prerogative."
Sarah burst out laughing. "If it makes you feel any better, he wasn't there with her. Marcus invited her. Of course." She rolled her eyes. "Jenny was livid. Even though Samantha was all over Simon and not Marcus, Jenny was still upset since she thinks Samantha is infringing on your territory. I pulled her aside and told her you guys had just decided to be friends but she couldn't believe it." She added quickly, "But Simon didn't act interested. He barely spoke to her. He barely spoke at all. I think he was hoping that you would be there."
I help up my hand. "Sarah, no suppositions," I warned. "That's the last thing I need."
"Okay," she sighed. She then looked fierce. "It's not fair. Why did he have to be in your vision? Aren't you allowed to grab a damn piece of happiness? It's just so fucking unfair."
Apparently I was bringing out the cursing in everyone. "It's okay, Sarah. I'm okay with it. And I'm happy with my life. My best friend and I are in our senior year. I have a great group of friends. I'm looking forward to graduation and everything that com
es after it. There are so many good things in my life. Let's not focus on the bad."
Sarah grimaced. "That makes me feel worse. You being positive. You should be able to scream and throw a temper tantrum if you want. You deserve that right. But you never do. You just persevere in silence." She looked at me with an expression I had never seen on her face. "But you'll tell me if it becomes too much, right? You'll ask for my help if you can't handle it anymore?"
I understood the question she was asking. "Don't worry, Sarah" I reassured her. "I would never make a rash decision. Life is worth living, no matter what obstacles I have to face."
Sarah looked relieved. "Good. Now turn on the TV. The Bachelor is on."
**********
I went through the motions of going to class and working at Colette's the next few days, numb but grateful that the vision hadn't reoccurred. I forced myself not to stare at every blonde that crossed my path, searching their face to see if it was the one I had seen in my vision.
I was acutely aware of Simon's absence during this time. We had gone over to Grant and Marcus' place for pizza on Tuesday, but Simon had been absent. Grant had mentioned that Simon had a group meeting for one of his classes and I had just nodded my head, not wanting further explanation.
I had the distraction of preparing for the party on Saturday that would be a combination of Jenny's birthday and Halloween, with the celebration ending at the East End, where the Henchmen were playing a short set. Sarah debated making costumes mandatory for the party, but I revolted since I personally didn't want to wear one. Halloween seemed like an excuse for girls to dress in the least amount of clothes possible without having to worry about being branded a slut. It was as if the rules no longer applied on Halloween and people didn't look at you twice if you left the house in a bustier and short shorts that bared your cheeks. You were simply Superwoman.
On Thursday afternoon I was home alone while Sarah was in class. I was done with school for the day and feeling a little out of sorts when there was a knock at the door. I opened it, revealing Simon propping himself on the doorframe with an easy smile. I drank in the sight of him after being deprived for so many days. He was wearing his usual jeans with a grey t-shirt and his green coat. Simon's blue eyes looked clear and bright, like they had before our disastrous conversation Saturday night. My fingers itched to sweep back his dark hair brushing his forehead, and I clenched my fist to suppress the motion.
"Hi," I said cautiously, unsure of what the dynamics between us were going to be now.
"Hi," Simon parroted back to me, quirking his mouth. "Are you going to let me in?"
"Oh, sure," I said hastily, stepping back to let him in. I realized I had been standing there just gawking at him. He took off his coat and laid it on the recliner, taking a seat on the couch. I stood before him, stupidly not knowing what to do.
"Um," I said eloquently. "Did you need something?"
Simon looked up at me with an innocent grin. "I'm here to hang out with my friend."
"Okay," I replied slowly, not sure how to process his statement. I didn't understand what he was doing here, acting as if last Saturday had never happened.
"You said we would be friends, right?" Simon asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you already reneging on that?"
"No, no," I said quickly. "We're friends. I just-uh, didn't expect to see you today."
"You're done with your classes and you don't work today." This was a statement, not a question.
"How do you know?"
"I have my sources," Simon said, waggling his eyebrows. I laughed, relieved that it seemed like we had our easy camaraderie back. Maybe this friend thing could actually work. Simon seemed to have accepted it and moved past his prior interest.
"Okay. What do you want to do?"
"We could hang out here or go to a movie or something. But I'd prefer it if you came over to my place and put those kitchen gadgets to use." Simon looked at me endearingly and I couldn't find it in me to refuse. Besides, I had thought I would never see the inside of his apartment again, and it was a relief that Simon had reinserted himself back in my life.
"Sure, why not."
Simon jumped up and grabbed his coat. "Great! Let's go."
I slipped on my coat and we made our way to his apartment. We didn't talk on the short walk to his place. I didn't know what to say and Simon didn't feel the need to make conversation. I couldn't help giving him furtive sideway glances. It was hard for me to keep up with his mood shifts sometimes. Our conversation on Saturday had deeply unsettled me, but he seemed to be able to cast it off easily. I decided to take my cues from him and forget about what happened and simply accept him as a friend. If Simon could do that, so could I.
It was with newfound confidence that I stepped into his apartment. Simon took our coats and hung them in the front closet.
"So, what do you want to make today?" I asked, walking to his kitchen.
"Garbage cookies," Simon said immediately, with a grin.
"I doubt you'll have the ingredients for it," I replied. "Actually, I'm not sure what we can make with the stuff we bought last Saturday, since a lot of it might not be good anymore like the chicken."
Simon smirked and swept his hand to indicate the plastic bags on the counter. I looked inside and saw they were filled with flour, vanilla extract, chocolate chips, pretzels and a vast assortment of other baking goods.
I raised my eyebrow, surveying the groceries. "Are you planning on opening up a bakery?"
"Nah, I just picked up some stuff. I didn't know what to buy so I just looked up five different cookie recipes and just bought all the ingredients they listed. We had already gotten some of the stuff last week, like the milk and eggs."
"So I guess my coming over was a foregone conclusion," I retorted, but unable to suppress a smile.
Simon shrugged. "Let's just say I hoped."
I laughed and starting pulling out the equipment that I needed to make the cookies. Simon leaned on the counter watching me.
"So the first thing we need to do is preheat the oven to 350 degrees," I lectured in my best professorial tone. "You never want to put anything into a cold oven."
Simon gave me a wry smile. "I guess you're taking this teaching thing to heart. I feel like I should be taking notes or something."
I raised an eyebrow. "That would be a smart thing to do. That way you can make them anytime you want."
"But then I won't have an excuse to ask you to come over."
I gave him my best scathing look. "Exactly. This is a cooking lesson. The point is to learn how to make it yourself."
Simon tapped the side of his head with a finger, giving me a mischievous smile. "I'll keep it all right here, babe. I've got close to a photographic memory."
I rolled my eyes as I grabbed a carton of eggs and butter from the fridge, unwrapping two sticks of butter and placing them on a plate. "Your talents just don't stop, do they?"
Simon grinned suggestively. "You have no idea."
I burst out laughing. I could deal with this Simon. The funny lighthearted Simon who made jokes and was content to keep things easy.
"Okay, back to business." I stuck the plate of butter in the microwave. "You need to cream the butter, but the butter needs to be at room temperature to be able to do that. Since the butter's been in the fridge, you can just put it in the microwave at half-power for a minute and it'll be just right."
Simon brought his hands up to his face as if he were holding a camera and blinked his eyes, making a clicking noise like the shutter was going off. "Got it."
I snorted at his antics. I grabbed the brown sugar I had seen in one of the plastic bags and the white sugar we had bought last week from the cupboard. Since we had previously put the groceries away together, I knew where everything was. It was a little disconcerting to feel so comfortable in his kitchen, not having to ask where anything was. Disconcerting but pleasurable. I pushed away the thought of whether Samantha had any intimate knowledge of Simon's apartment. None
of my business.
Simon leaned back on the counter, watching me measure out the sugars. "Are you wearing a costume on Saturday?"
"No way," I said, wrinkling my nose. "Not my thing. I don't need everyone looking at me. You?"
"I hadn't given it much thought," Simon replied. "Grant was trying to convince me and Marcus to go as ZZ Top, but I'm not sure I can wear a scratchy fake beard all night."
I grinned. "I could see that. You should totally do it."
Simon shrugged noncommittally. "We'll see."
The microwave beeped that it was done and I took the plate out. "Okay, next you dump the butter and both the sugars in a bowl and whip it until it's light and creamy." I grabbed the handheld mixer we had bought last week from the cupboard and creamed everything together. I looked up to catch Simon watching me instead of the bowl. "Pay attention," I said sternly, pointing to the mixture in the bowl.
Simon nodded with a thoughtful look. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Not wanting to know what he had been about to say, I filled the silence with my instruction. "Now we add two eggs, one at a time." I looked at him. "Can you crack eggs?"
"Luckily I'm a master egg cracker," Simon joked, reaching for the carton I had taken out earlier. He cracked one egg and waited while I whipped it into the mixture. "Is there a reason you never want to be the center of attention?"
I concentrated on making sure that the egg was well incorporated. It was hard getting used to the personal questions Simon threw out with no warning. "Not really," I replied, measuring my words carefully. "I'm just more comfortable not being in the spotlight." I looked up at him with a wry smile. "Not everyone can be a rock star." I didn't explain that my father's constant criticism growing up, combined with the visions that had almost debilitated me at one point, were enough for me to retract behind a wall that I only allowed a select few to breach. I wasn't sure if Simon was going to be one of them. "Okay, next egg."
