Chain Reaction 3.51: Results

Michael

     Chloe moved in with and married her boyfriend Tommy. (So now both my younger siblings are married.) We turned her room into a gym of sorts. Dad works out all. the. time. It seems that way to me anyway.

     I don't know how he does it! I work out as much as I can, and I still look like an overstuffed bear. Dad works out every morning and is chiseled. He's over 50 and still looks like a model. Why couldn't I get those genes? It's frustrating to work out next to him since I'm not getting results.

     I start going to a gym. At least here I'm not constantly reminded that Dad's workout does much more for him than it does for me. I run. And run. And run. Sometimes, I jog the neighborhood. I probably have the healthiest heart of anyone I know. But I've only lost about an inch from my waist. I've asked Dad for advice, but I don't think whatever applies to him applies to me. Maybe this is just the body type I have, and I'm stuck with it.

    Aggravated at the unfairness of the world, I head down to the showers. When I come out, I see someone else who's gotten those unattainable-for-me results.

     "How do you do it?!" Oh plum. I asked that aloud.

     "Excuse me?"

     Crap. Now what? "Never mind. I was just talking to myself." Great. Now I sound like a lunatic.

     "Did you just start coming here?" His smile looks like he's laughing at me.

     "Only a few days ago."

     "How do you like it?"

     I decide to be a little honest. "Well, it's a good gym, I suppose. I don't guess it matters if I work out somewhere else or at home. I'll always resemble an overstuffed bear."

     He is laughing at me now. "And that's a bad thing?" He pulls in his lips for a second before letting them back out and saying, "My name's Darrin." He offers a handshake.

     "Mike." I want people to call me Mike or Michael. Dad refuses to call me anything but Mikey, and I don't think it suits me anymore. 

    Darrin makes coming to this gym much more interesting. We have loads of fun hanging out and goofing around. Sure, I'm still not getting any noticeable results, but I've made a friend of sorts. I learn his last name is Sheie, and that he was adopted and is an only child.

    Then I find out something else about him...

     ...He's a cop.

     "Hi, Mike!" He sees my expression. "What is it?"

     "You never told me you're a police officer." Dad never liked the word 'cop.' "My dad used to be on the force."

     "Really? What's his name?"

     "Ethan Taylor. But I doubt you'd remember him."

     "Ethan Taylor the private detective? He came in the other day to talk to the chief about something." He pauses. "But that does explain one thing to me."

     "What's that?"

     "He's where you get your incredibly blue eyes."

     I laugh a bit. "Yeah. That would be Dad."

     Then he asks me that since I'm in the towel if I'm finished for the day. I say yes but that I don't mind hanging out--meaning hanging around while he works out. It's nice to observe someone who makes working out work for them.

     "No, that's okay. I don't have to, especially if you're already finished. And I'm actually in the mood for coffee. Wanna come?"

     "Yeah. Let me go change. I'll meet you there." I get the impression he wanted to wait for me here but that I've acted like I didn't want that. It's a little awkward, but he agrees and goes up the stairs.

     When I get to the café, I see Darrin sitting at a table. He also changed, I notice. I see him looking around, his knee bouncing around under the table. A smile breaks out on his face when he sees me.

     I smirk as I notice the distinct lack of coffee, and I have a seat. "You said you wanted coffee. Where's the coffee?"

     "I was waiting until you got here." He pauses. "About earlier, you looked... surprised... when you found out I was a police officer. I don't know why I never told you. Do you have a problem with that?"

     Other than I've murdered someone? "Nah," I lie. "I guess work has never come up. I work in I.T. for Drake Goth." Yeah. REAL recently. 

     His countenance falls. "I don't know if that's... No. You know what? Never mind. The important thing is if you like it. Do you?"

     I let out a quick laugh. "Like work?" I try to hide my smile for a second before I show it again. "Who likes work?"

     He looks momentarily offended. "I do. I love my job. I take criminals and put them where they belong: behind bars."

     "Okay. Well, that's... good." Plum. He can never know what I did. I've never really had a best friend before, and that's what he's quickly becoming. If he should ever find out I killed Malcolm Landgraab (a man who had it coming--come on!), that would be catastrophic.

     He smiles apologetically. "Sorry. I can get a little carried away. Maybe that's why I've never mentioned what I do before. I think I was worried I'd look like a nut."

     Tension knots up in my stomach. This is terrible. He's not only a cop but a gung-ho, super cop. This friendship is doomed.

     I look down at the table and see his left hand resting there. "You're married?" He's wearing a ring after all.

     "What?" He looks at his hand. "Oh. No, I'm not. I wear this to ward off, um..." He blushes. "Never mind. It's silly. It's just a ring." He quickly changes the subject. "Let's get some coffee, okay?"

     We head over to the barista. I order a coffee, and Darrin gets a coffee and a slice of pie. Then he gets an eclair. Then he orders an apple turnover.

     "Where do you put it all?" I'd blow up if I ate like he does.

     "I don't know. I just have a high metabolism, I guess. All I know is I'm starving." He sees me longingly looking at his plate. "Want some?" He dips his fork into it again.

     I snap out of it. "No. I'm good." I face front and stare at the wall.

     He's messing with me now. "C'mon, Mike. Eat the yummy dessert."

     I see the fork in my peripheral vision. "No. I told you. I'm fine." Plum, I really want it! 

     He takes the bite instead, obnoxiously making 'mm' sounds. "It's so good! You sure you don't wanna try it?" The fork dips to get another mouthful again. Darrin's voice goes up in pitch like he might be doing a kids' puppet show. The dessert is the puppet, and he makes it talk. "C'mon, Mikey. Eat me." The fork bounces in front of my face in all its delicious, tempting glory.

    "Dude!" I'm pissed off now, so I turn around and get up to leave. I'm almost to the door when Darrin calls out.

    "Mike! I'm sorry!" I watch his reflection in the glass as he gets up and comes after me.

    I turn around and look at him with my arms folded. "Yes, I plumbing want the dessert, but look at me! Can't you see I don't need it?" I'm a tub of lard who's never had a girlfriend and probably never will. 

    "Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun. You looked like you wanted some."

    "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I get to. Not all of us are lucky like you are." I walk out now into the rain.

     He comes after me again, apparently really deciding to rub it in how perfect people don't understand what it is to be me. "Why do you hate yourself so much?"

     "Look at me!"

     "I am looking at you!"

     I roll my eyes, make an exasperated noise, turn around, and walk off. He doesn't follow me this time.

     A few days later, he calls me and asks me if I'd come to some lame festival with him. I figure, 'what the hell, why not?' and say I will. I don't want to stay mad at him forever.

     "Uh, dude, I don't know if that's such a good idea." I watch him get a cup and go for the punch.

     "It's harmless."

     "I don't know about that. Dad told me he and Mom drank this stuff and wound up married by the following morning."

      Darrin laughs loudly. "That's awesome." He fills his cup.

      "Alright then. Just stating here for the record that I am in no way responsible for anything you do tonight."

      "Duly noted." He drinks it. "Hey, this stuff is good! Well, if you like that kind of sick-sweet, berry stuff that almost smells like flowers but in an appetizing way."

      I laugh at his odd description. "If you say so."

      "You should try it."

      "No."

      "Damn, Mike. Don't be such a chicken. Live a little."

      "Fine, then, as-hole." I get a cup while he laughs at me. After I taste it, I have to admit he's right. It is nice in a sick-sweet way.

     After that, well, I'm not quite sure. Darrin and I run around like a couple of lunatics, but we're in good company because many other people do too. This one woman insists I'm a professional athlete no matter how many times I tell her I'm not. Finally, to shut her up, I give her an autograph. Then she hugs me and kisses me on the cheek. She finally goes away when Darrin tells her to f--- off.

     There's this kind of romantic guru that everyone seeks his or her romantic future. For fun, I call her over and ask for mine. She replies that I have a tall dark stranger in my future. Darrin loves this, and he teases me for hours, pointing out different people and wondering who it could be. For revenge, I make Darrin ask for his future from the woman, but it's a lot less funny. She tells him he has a shattered heart coming and that it would be better for him to stay single. That's mean! So, Darrin tells her to f--- off too.

     Darrin acts bummed and really mad at the guru lady for another hour or so before I can't take it anymore.

     "Would you chill about what that crazy woman said? She's just a carnival act. That doesn't mean it's going to happen." 

     "Right. She's just a crazy b*tch. What does she know?"

     "Exactly. And I'll bet the reverse happens to us. You stand a much better chance at happiness than I do." I lightly punch his shoulder.

     "I wish you wouldn't do that, devalue yourself and all."

     I shrug. "It's a habit. I've just learned to accept that I'll never be attractive. It's fine."

     He whispers, "Stop it." Then, the timer for the lights activates, and they go out, ready for morning.

     I'm about to argue with him, but I get distracted upon receiving the shock of my life.

     Darrin is... kissing me. What surprises me even more is that I like it. I kiss him back, and time doesn't matter anymore. I've never really been kissed, but he doesn't act like he minds. He's a very good teacher. 

      He stops suddenly and pulls back.

      I have no idea what to do or say. He's supposed to be my best friend, but he just kissed me. I wish I could see his eyes, but he keeps them hidden behind his shades.

     His mouth drops, and he jumps back like I've burned him. His hands come up over his mouth. "Oh f---! Oh f--- f--- f---!"

     "Darrin?"

     "Shut up!" He backs up several steps. "Damn you, Michael." He gives me a pained expression before he turns about-face and swiftly walks away.

     I stand here like a dumbas- and watch him, rooted to my spot on the sidewalk.
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Next chapter begins the promised slew of Goth-ness. We do hear from Mikey again pretty soon, too, so that won't go unanswered for too long.