Senioritis 2

Sophisticated, Depressed People

"Hey, Tiger...how do I look?"

Peter looked - a little dumbfounded - at the dress. It was a plain black sheath style, with no sleeves and a subtle slit in the back. Peter wasn't sure what to say - all the dresses she'd tried on so far looked pretty much the same. If anything, he felt a little awkward just sitting outside the women's dressing room and clutching the rest of May's shopping bags.

"It's nice." Peter shrugged, not wanting to sound too disinterested.

May drew back the curtain a little more before standing on the tip of her toes to mimic wearing heels and then placing her hands on her hips.

"Better than the other one I tried...or just the same?" May sighed, glancing at herself in the mirror again.

Peter shrugged.

I don't know, May. They all look the same to me.

"Black or red?" May said quickly, crossing her arms.

"Black." Peter replied.

"Okay." May said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I know you really wanna get out of here and get some lunch...so I'll just go with the black."

She drew the curtain shut again.

Peter's plan was so simple today. He was gonna wake up, feel shitty and incredibly sorry for himself, have May make him a pity breakfast, unpack his stuff for a little bit and then spend the rest of the day watching Person of Interest on Netflix.

But May wasn't having it...which annoyed him, yet made him slightly grateful, because staying in bed all day thinking about MJ would have driven him absolutely crazy.

And May begged him to get out of bed and said that she had a job interview coming up at a some consulting company, and that he had to help her pick out an outfit to wear.

And he'd said no at first, and then they'd fought a little, and then May begged him again and said that she'd take him to lunch to celebrate the fact that  he'd done so well in his SAT.

Peter got a 1520. He wanted close to a perfect score, but he'd made an internal promise to never let himself take that stupid fucking test again. So a 1520 had to suffice for now.

And Peter got a little antsy sitting in that dressing room, because he thought about what May had said about Walter the night he'd arrived from Chicago. How the police were questioning him every minute of every day now. How things had just got way more complicated for MJ and her Mom.

But Peter didn't think it was that complicated. Ally was gonna win the case now, no doubt. And then Walter could do some time in jail, or something, and then he'd never be able to be an asshole to MJ, or Peter, ever again.

Not that MJ ever spoke to him since he left. Or calked him. Not that Peter knew she was gonna have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning and get an abortion. Him and May could just pretend that things were normal, for a little while.

And Peter had placed his mom's necklace back in its rightful box when he got home, and sobbed until 4am...because his heart hurt.

Because it sounded so stupid, but he just wanted MJ next to him, as he lay there crying. In her Joan of Arc T-shirt and lacy black underwear. He just wanted to kiss her cheeks and push her curly hair gently out of her face. He would hold her and feel her breathing next to him. She would of course fall asleep before him, but Peter wouldn't care.

She was just there and that was enough.

But nothing was never enough for Peter, he thought. No one could ever just be there...and stay. Stay, and love him, and for it to all just be fucking enough.