Pain-t-Killers

Here comes the sun

I see Dad waving at Aly from the house threshold. California's sun's rays shyly slither inside our home. Brightened by the noon light, he looks like an ancient, bold hero. Thank God Allison stopped at our front yard. I hear her chatting with my dad, calling for my name. I can buy some time.

"Tell her I'm not... presentable!"

"Why, have you ever been presentable at all?"

He whispers to me, sardonically. I can't think of a clever comeback fast enough, and I don't even have time for this bullshit, goddamit!

"Giiiirlfrieeeend? Are you there?"

Sweet lord, Allison's voice sounds sweets as syrup. I haven't seen her for a month. I feel the urge to rush outta the house and hug her until she chokes, but it'll have to wait.

"Sorry Ally, she needs time to be 'presentable'."

My time is running out. Google, help me!

"So, she actually takes time to pick her clothes? I thought she used to hang out in pajama all the time."

It's good to be surrounded by people who loves you.

"Aye, that's the same thing I always thought. Clearly we were both mistaking."

My eyes scroll the plot page on Wikipedia as fast as they can, I'm panicking hard, like I'll have to take a test on this. Plus, I have to avoid all the mean comments, trying to link the full plot with the few images stuck in my head. Maybe if the first half hour of the movie weren't set all in a damn bar...

"Park your bike where you want and come in, I think she is ready."

Screw this movie, screw Bill Murray and screw you Scarlett, you and your perfect, outstanding boobs – did you know she had breast reduction? People really can't appreciate their gifts. None of you will ruin this moment, I've been waiting the whole freackin spring for this. I lock my phone and run at the door. I crawl fast under Dad's arm, leaning on the entrance.

She is standing on the boardwalk, few inches from me.

There she is.

Allison Davis. The love of my life.

We stare at each other, quietly, for a few seconds. Like cowboys on their last stand. Then we both scream and rush against each other. She embraces me, and I hug her back, stronger. It's an involuntary competition, on who missed who more. We keep on yelling and laughing and jumping around for a bit. Holding hands, under Hank's proud watch.

I tell her she looks amazing, but I tell her all the time.

"So, this is what took you so long to come outta the house?"

She points at my clothes. I wear an extra-large, dark grey sweater and some jean shorts. My pair of vans, whose purple color faded away when Jesus still walked on Earth, aren't even tied.

"Oh, come on Ally, cut this bullshit, I wanna know everything! How did your trip go?"

Allison's mother is a teacher. Her father is a researcher at the local power plant. They earn good money, they can afford a vacation for every holyday. This Christmas they went to Israel. They choose Africa for the Spring Break. Yeah, they're not the typical tourist guys.

Allison fixes her hair with both hands, she has to, after all that energic display of love. She starts talking but I'm not even listening. I get lost in her movements, her eyes. We've been friends for a billion years and it's weird how, after only a month without her, I need to catch back on her look. Unconsciously, I study her movements, try to catch something wrong, or different in her manners. We've always covered each other's back, I want to be sure my perfect Allison is still how I left her.