Me, Myself, and I

rise before the fall

I drove Val to the house once or twice more. But Ben's disinterest and the impending doom of final exams drove her back to California before the weekend was up. I got a goodbye hug, a call me please? A good luck with Alex. A good luck with finals. A don't give up. A hold on to hope.

My interest in my education had since depleted. Alex would walk me over to my classes like a dog on a leash, and I'd sit with my back up straight and my pencil fidgeting between my finger tips. I watched my peers playing dinosaur games and solitaire on their laptops. Professor Jake would ask about hypothetical solutions to business scandals, and I could answer them without much a thought in class. It was putting those thoughts onto the pages that got me into trouble.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I started showing up to classes again because that was seemingly an essential variable in the equation of my rebounded relationship with Alex. How much I did in those classes was irrelevant. If he saw a diligent student, he was happy, and I was free to worry about my memory depleted friend.

After Val left, I drove by Ben's place around three times a day. Even parked on the street once. But getting myself back to that doorway was a whole different beast. I imagined the door as an iron gate I'd have to beat my way through. I felt guilty not going. Even more guilty for thinking about going. I'd seen the brokenness in Val in all of her failed attempts to make him remember her. I wouldn't let myself look like that. Then again, maybe I was already there.

I made it four days before giving in. I stopped by my own place first, attempted to throw together some chocolate chip waffles using one of my mom's old recipes. Her twos looked like fours. The cups and teaspoons not differentiated.

I crumbled that recipe card and went on instinct. The texture seemed right, smelled about right. I wrapped them in a tupperwear container, finished off with some old bow I knew I was never going to wear. Should I write a letter? I thought better of it. I'd manage to tell him I hated him without meaning to. What did it matter what he thought?

The thought spirals didn't stop me, though. The container in hand, I knocked on his door twice.

I prepared myself to beg his parents to allow my presence. Bribed with food, equipped with apologies I didn't mean, I'd do whatever it took to get inside that door frame. I'd see the flecks of gold in his eyes and I'd get to see him smile again.

The door cracked open. "Hello?"

My prep. My prep! I stared at my hands and extended the tupperware. "Hey, Ben. Just. Dropping. These. Off?"

He opened the door further. He was still wearing that stupid baseball cap. I couldn't see his curls anymore. He cautiously took the container, inspecting the bow. "What is it?"

"My attempt at chocolate chip waffles." I had his attention. He slipped the lid open. "Sorry if they're a little burnt. I would've bought some from Stacks, but my coffee budget has me broke right now."

"Stacks..." He glanced over his shoulder. "Can we go?"

"Right now?"

"I mean...yeah. The only thing I know about you now is that you kissed me and you have a passive aggressive boyfriend. But that pink-haired girl kept telling me that you were my friend."

I flinched. "Valerie. Yeah, we were."

It didn't take much convincing on my part. Ben put the tupperware in his fridge. His parents weren't home. Kyle was back at school (apparently). Alex and Brooke weren't around to ask questions. I opened the passenger door for him and drove slowly, the wheel feeling more fidgety than usual. The silence wasn't soft and warm yet. That's what I wanted. Ben watched out the window, I kept my eyes on the road.