In the Basement, In the Sky

Five

Your ringtone startles you into wakefulness the next day. Kylie is gone.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and push your hair out of your face. Your sleep dead hands fumble the phone a few times before you can get it to your cheek. You don't read the caller ID.

"'Lo?" You clear your throat. "H'lo?"

"Jen-jen! Are you dead?"

"Funshine?"

She laughs. It's in surround sound, banging around your aching head. You squint at the closed bedroom door. "Come out and take your pills. Kylie let us come in as long as we promised to make you take them and not go into the bedroom or steal anything."

The more you wake up, the heavier your body gets. You sink through the bed, through the floor, through the downstairs neighbor's apartment, into the concrete. RIP.

God. You're so tired. You can barely keep your eyes open and they're covered in a fine layer of sleep grit.

"Wanna go back to sleep," you mumble, collapsing face first into your pillow. But you don't hang up.

"Jen-jen!" Funshine says sternly. "I promised your boyfriend I would both make you take your pills and not violate the sacred space that is your bedroom or whatever. Don't make a liar out of me!"

"G'night."

She hangs up on you and, sure enough, moments later, she's at your bedroom door, knocking just loudly and insistently enough that you won't be able to get back to sleep.

"Fine!" you whine. "Just let me put some clothes on."

You settle for a pair of old basketball shorts and an a-shirt that do not match one bit, but who cares, Funshine and Smartypants have seen you at your best and worst and mismatched clothes are hardly the worst thing they'll see today.

When you open the door, Funshine is waiting there with a bright smile and arms open in offer of a hug. You collapse against her, burying your nose in her shoulder and letting out a heavy sigh.

"Thank you for calling us," she murmurs. She runs her fingers through your hair, catching on a ball of tangles. "I don't want you to have to be alone."

Funshine works out the tangle with her fingers, then says, "Go find your favorite brush and a big cup of water and take your pills. I'll work these knots out while we all watch a movie."

You nod, and even though you want to stay there forever -- not romantically, not sexually, you just miss the comfort of one of your best friends -- you push yourself away and gesture back to the couch, where Smartypants lays sprawled across. He waves and calls over a greeting and you wave back, then shuffle to the bathroom to get your brush.

Once you have everything collected and you've taken your pills, Funshine spills out a backpack full of DVDs, Jen-suitable sweets, and kandy-making supplies.

"We'll make it like a vacation day," Funshine says. "We all know you've done this before and probably will again, but that doesn't mean we have to be miserable."

Smartypants laughs and pushes himself up into a sit so Funshine can sit beside him and you can sit in front of her, but first she puts on The Goonies (because they never say die) so you can have something to distract from the overwhelming heat in your body and the tugging at your scalp.

The beads are all in sandwich bags, colors and shapes mixed together with no organization. For the first ten minutes or so of the movie, you zone out, squishing one of the bags in your hands distractedly, letting the beads flow like water between your fingers.