I'll Be Holding on to You

depression and pizza

I surveyed the pile of unwashed stuff in the darkened room and sighed under my breath, knowing it concealed the guy I called my best friend. "I know you're in there," I said finally, mildly. 

I sat on the corner and tried not to wrinkle my nose. His little therapy dog, a Benji-looking mutt named Bowser, wagged his tail hard at me. "Can I find you?"

He voiced his acquiescence with a nondescript sound and I began peeling back the not unsmelly clothes and blankets. I was eventually rewarded, though I use the term loosely, with a glimpse of somewhat grimy skin and longish oily dark hair. 

Cam, in all his depressed glory. 

"Hi," I said to a red-rimmed blue eye, quietly. I moved some hair out of his face and his other eye, which was green, came into view. "How goes it, bb."

He shrugged and rolled over so his face was in the pillow. 

"Want anyone else? Evie? Freak?"

He shook his head.

"Want me to sit in the blankets with you, listen to music?"

Shrug.

So that's what we did.

******

The next day we were cramming pizza with Freddy and the twins. Cameron was up again, and we took advantage of it as usual. 

Our server stopped by to refill waters, leaning over to give everyone an unobstructed view of her ample cleavage, which more than half of us appreciated. She was only interested in the guys though, which was fine; she wasn't my type anyway.

"Thank you. So much," Freddy said to her chest with a small leer. He was just messing around but it was still disgusting.

"My pleasure," she twinkled, having been flirting with him from the start.

"Could be," he said as she walked away, and was rewarded with a mock-admonishing look and wink. "I've got a tip for her," he raised his eyebrows at us lewdly. He was just trying to get a rise out of Erika, whom we mostly called Freak. 

It worked.

"Shut up, Ginger." She pushed him halfheartedly, rolling her eyes at me. I tried not to gaze at her in open adoration."You're fuckin' revolting." She and her twin, Mohammed, were sporting matching patterns of braids, compliments of our master braider, moi.

The similarities ended there because Freak's red lipstick and matching chic glasses weren't something Mo tried to pull off.

"You're a slut, Freddy," I said matter-of-factly, taking my third piece of pizza, tearing my eyes away from her.

"That I am," he agreed, though he wasn't. He helped himself to what was probably his ninth piece. "Ladies love me, girls adore me," he quoted.

"That sounds a little fuckin' creepy, actually," Erika pointed out.

"Hey," he said with a wounded look. "I'm a flirt, not a pervert."

I glanced at Cam. He was still on piece one. Depression's own bff, anxiety, loved to keep his appetite from him. "Eat your food," I told him.

He made a face at me but took another bite. He had to have food in his body for the meds, which he knew damn well. "You sound like Mom," he muttered, kicking my foot under the table. I kicked him back.

"Save some f-for Evie," Mohammed advised Freddy, who was reaching for another piece of pizza.

"Shit." Freddy looked alarmed at this reminder and began to put his piece back.