Chain Reaction 3.1.35: It's Too Late

Alaric

     I used to have all these pictures of Kate in my room, and sometimes, when I walk in, I think I see them.

      But it's just memories playing tricks on me.

      With a sad sigh, I spin into my sleepwear.

     I've been doing my best to try and get over her.

      Writing helps, and so does music. Although I'm better at the piano than the guitar, I'm currently doing my best to steer clear of my parents. My ass of a half-brother has escaped jail, and no one can find him. My mom's stress level is through the roof.

     She's been pretty good about handling it, banging on Dad's old punching bag as one of her outlets. At least she's not rolling over and giving up like a weakling.

      So neither will I. Moping around after a girl didn't help any of the previous Goth men.

      My plans for SCU are getting thrown out the window. It's bad seeing Kate at school every day. I can't let myself continue to pout, and SCU is just too close to Willow Creek University, where she's going a year early next school year. So, I need to pick a different college, university, or whatever. I even consider going into the military. Maybe running around doing grunt work will finally be enough to get her out of my head.

     Because getting back together isn't going to happen. She's made that abundantly clear. She views me as lower than dirt, and I don't think there's a thing I can do to fix that. It's too late.

Darrin

     I'm crying. Michael hates me! How could I do that to him?!
     I open my eyes and strangely find myself in my bedroom. Huh?
     Was it all just a dream? I sit up.

     I remember going to the club last night. That was real. Was Michael being there real? What's real and what was a dream?

     This makes no sense, and a good portion of me hopes that most of it was only a dream.
     There's only one way I can find out for sure. I pull out my phone, hoping he isn't asleep--and hoping he'll answer.

     He answers!
     "Hi, Mike! Please don't hang up. I just need to ask you something." My heart races in my chest.
     "Um... okay?"
     "This may sound a little strange, but were you at the club last night?" I'll know in a few seconds if all that really happened because he'll chew me out.

     "Yeeeeeaaaaah...?" He sounds confused why I'd ask that. "You were too, right?"
     "Yeah. Um, did we talk and... stuff?"
     He lets out a resigned sigh. "Darrin... Listen, I'm really sorry. You were just trying to help me. I was drunk and... stupid."
     "Again, this may sound strange, but, um, I need a little clarity as to what happened. I guess I myself had a few too many as well because I don't know if I'm remembering everything correctly."
     "Oh my maker, Darrin, now you're going to make me have to tell you?"
     "Sorry. But please so I don't think something else."
     "Okay, look, I was drunk. You were trying to tell me not to drink so much. I should've known better. I'm sorry about the mixed signals and everything." He pauses. I wish he would give me specifics!!! "I shouldn't have kissed you. I was drunk and stupid and if we could just forget it happened, that would be great."

     "So that's all that happened?"
     "What that isn't bad enough?"
     I let out a relieved sigh. "Sorry, I just couldn't remember what was real and what... wasn't."
     "I guess that would make sense since you passed out."
     I start laughing. Oh maker! I must've looked stupid! Mike kissed me, and I passed out! "Sorry. I'm just laughing at myself."
     He laughs just a little as well. "I, uh, made sure you got in a cab okay, and I presume your parents took over when you got home."
     I bite my lip. "Did I, uh, say anything when I was passed out?"
     Another chuckle. "Yeah, you mumbled a few things, but you were drunk. So I don't think that should count." He pauses. "Is that what you're worried about?"
     "Uh, yeah," I lie. Well, a half-lie. I am somewhat concerned about what part of the dream I might've said, but as long as it was just a dream and I didn't ruin Mike's life, it's fine.

      "So is that what you remember, or do you remember something else?"
      Holy sh*t! "Uh... I just uh... wanted to know what you remembered."
      "Yes... because you wanted to know what was real and what wasn't. So what wasn't real?" He has a dangerously-flirtatious edge to his voice that I don't think is safe at all.

     "Uh... Well, like you said, that doesn't count since I was drunk. It was just a strange dream." Before he can say anything else, I keep talking. "So, uh, grats on the engagement and baby and all that. I guess I'll see you around. Bye!" I hang up.
     Part of me is relieved that none of the stuff in the bathroom happened, but another part of me, a small selfish part, wishes it did. Not that I would wish that on Mike. I would've wanted a different ending. But that would be impossible.
     Mike is lost to me... because I'm a dumbass.

Michael

      I stare at my phone after Darrin's quick farewell, knowing he was running away from actually answering my question.

     Hells yeah he talked. I knew he was out of it. He kept saying things like 'Mike don't hate me' and 'I don't care what you did' and 'I love you beyond all sense or reason.' Those came out crystal clear, and I wanted to know if he'd admit to it in the light of day.

     He said it was a dream. That must've been some dream.

     But, I guess it doesn't matter. It's too late.

     Ivy and I continue our lives, and with the warmer weather, she takes her painting outside. I like that because it means better air circulation, meaning she's not breathing in as many paint fumes.

     It's kind of awkward for me, but she's taken to painting me, still on that 'you should be a model' thing.

     "Are you sure you got what you needed?" I ask her. "Because I need to go work on my video."

     "Okay."

     "Try to get some rest, okay?"

     "Okay." She's totally absorbed into the easel. She's not been working on her SimTube channel as much lately.

     I'm getting kind of worried about her. She's been spacing out a lot. She's also extremely tired--like going from plenty of energy to wiped out in minutes. Is that normal? I have no idea. And then there's our love life. She gets very affectionate one minute then tells me I can't even touch her the next. It's very frustrating, but I try to be patient, hoping it's all because of the pregnancy.

     And I'm happy I put a bathroom in the basement. I've needed those cold showers. My shrink prescribed me an anti-anxiety medication, but I didn't even get it filled, thinking he's full of crap. I have an appointment with another doc next week.

     Today I work on recording one of the answers to the five questions. The question was 'where do babies come from?' I'm honestly surprised no one has thought to ask this yet. Oh boy, do I ever have fun with this one. I come up with all kinds of 'proof' that the stork is real, that he wears a mail carrier uniform, and he delivers babies in a cloth tied up at his beak. I use 'scientific data' stating that it is possible for the bird to carry the baby because of its impressive wingspan and ability to fly long distances. I hope it's as funny as I plan it to be.

     A few days later, I find Ivy under the covers and crying hard. She had a doctor's appointment this morning. I wanted to go, but she was in a mood and demanded I stay home. That made me mad, but I decided it was best not to argue.

     "Ivy?"

     "Go away! I hate you!"

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