The Mindless Man's Paradise

Chapter thirty-five

Monday was our first official counseling session.

  The schedule stated that we were supposed to report to HQ at dawn.

  Yeah I know, sometimes I wondered how I woke up that early, too.

  At 11:30 pm, Cyrus and I concluded that we’d never be able to wake up in time. Our compromise was to pull an all-nighter. So, we taped over the slits in our blinds in order to keep light from leaking out and giving away our Infraction of Curfew (which was stated in the Society handbook), and busted out the kitchen utensils.

  “Okay, I’m not telling you what this is until we’re finished.” Cyrus explained. “The ingredients may sounds kind of weird, but trust me, it’ll taste so good when it’s done.”

  “I trust you.” I said, pecking him on the lips ever-so-casually. This surprised even myself. Usually there was an awkward aura about me whenever Cyrus and I were anything close to intimate. Something about me was just feeling especially self-assured for some reason.

  I think he liked this sudden burst of confidence. Because when I had turned around to go get two bags as he had earlier requested, he grabbed me by the arm, yanked me towards him, and held my face firmly in his hands, kissing me with passion.

  Once he finished, I said, “So do you still want me to get those bags?”

  He laughed before nodding, and I stood on my tippy-toes and reached for a plastic bag.

  Once I returned Cyrus began instructing me. The first step was to put some ice and rock salt into my first bag. Then, I filled my other bag with vanilla, milk, butter, and sugar, and then put that bag inside the other.

  Once I had done everything up to that point, Cyrus instructed me to shake the bags.

  After many minutes of grueling shaking, the whitish mixture had begun to solidify.

  Once it had, Cyrus made jazz hands and said, “Tada! Ice cream!”

  He quickly poured the contents into a bowl, and grabbed a spoon.

  Scooping some into the spoon, he fed it to me. And boy, might I say ice cream is delicious.

  “When we get back to your house, I’m definitely going to become a cook.” I said laughing and eating ice cream.

  As the night went on, we sang, made our own board game, and joked and laughed. We cuddled and we kissed and I treasured this sovereignty.

  Between all the festivities, maybe five in the morning, we slept, zonked out on the couch.

                                                                               ***

  I awoke, untangling Cyrus’s arms from my body, and sitting up, blinking the sunlight from my eyes.

  Incredulously bright, the sun was.

  I made my way to the kitchen, still shielding sunlight from my face, as I fished out a jug of milk from the refrigerator. I leaned against the counter, hand over my eyes, sipping milk from the jug, and couldn’t help but think something was wrong.

  Pulling my hand away from my face, and getting blinded by sunlight, I realized what it was.

  The sunlight.

  It wasn’t supposed to be there.

  Cyrus and I weren’t supposed to have fallen asleep.

  “Damnit.” I muttered to myself, smirking at my usage of language.