How to be Forever Alone [#Wattys2020]

34.

So her name is Tess and I could probably tell you a lot about her since we spent the majority of the party last night just talking.

For one, she has two younger sisters and a pet goldfish, who out of all possible names is named potato. And her parents are both professors who travel the world teaching seminars about the effects of love on the brain... Tess said, that out in the field, people like to call them the love doctors.

After our very thorough information dump about ourselves, I had offered to help clean up, but she begged that I just go home and relax, and wipe off the putrid fermented drink that had ended up all over my face. So I agreed and did as she said.

It must have been about three or four in the morning when Chase and I flung through the door to his apartment almost stumbling over our feet. His roommate still wasn't back either and although he said I would meet her at the party, I never got the chance.

The stretch from where we stood to Chase's bedroom felt like a marathon, we were so tired that I'm sure I lost him at the halfway mark. He just passed out on the hardwood floor and I'm sure once I made it to his room I flopped over his bed with half my body hanging off the side.

I'm not sure what time it is, but I can feel my eyelashes fluttering open to the sight of the sun shining through the decorative chiffon curtains hanging over the window.

I never understood how the weather could go from being cold and miserable to warm and comforting in the flash of a second. Or really, I should be saying, in the flash of a six-hour nap.

My mind is still trying to process a sense of time, but I sluggishly try to pull myself up like a puppet, taking along the blanket off of Chase's bed. So now, I've got to place it back where I found it, making sure I smooth out the creases with my hands.

One foot at a time, I slump my way into the hallway where Chase is still snoring soundly. Carefully, I step over him to get to the kitchen.

I hoped he and his roommate wouldn't mind if I started a pot of coffee, I think we could all use it. And then my stomach started growling like a monster from the darkest pits of hell. So, I ravaged through every bit of space to find food I could try and make something out of that would satisfy us all once Chase wakes up and his bunk-buddy comes home.

It didn't take long for the smell of cooking bacon to slither its way up to Chase's nose. He bolted his way up and into the kitchen as if he had taken a direct shot of caffeine to his bloodstream.

"That smells amazing," he says, his eyes still closed from his sleepiness.

I grab a mug from the finished plywood cabinet above the sink and I pour him a cup of coffee. Black, no milk or sugar, just how he's always liked it.

"You're a life saver," he smiles.

"You shouldn't be thanking me," I tell him, "You're the one who's letting me stay with you and raid your kitchen."

"Yeah," he replies sniffly, "but you're making me breakfast. That's all I ever need in life."

And as the life-saving breakfast maker, I continue working away until I was able to amass a full meal with eggs and toast to go along with the holy grail of bacon.

Chase is sitting down at the round dining table, that use to sit in his basement in Ottawa, and I serve him my masterful creation. Of course, I couldn't forget the ultimate piece of this delicious puzzle, the bottle of maple syrup.

As I sit down beside him, I place the bottle within arms reach.

"Awe," he melts into his seat, "you know me so well."

Just like everyone I've ever known, we all enjoy maple syrup, but Chase has an obsession. If you give him the chance he will put it on everything. Particularly, if you give him some oreille de crisse, he's set for the next few hours, until he asks for more.

Luckily, I think the breakfast I've made for us will keep us going for a while.

I'm about to take my first bite when Chase cuts me off.

"Is everything okay?" he asks me.

"Is everything okay?" I question back, not sure why he's asking.

"Yeah," he continues, "your brother texted me yesterday before we left for the party."

Our tone changed quickly to seriousness, yet I wasn't sure we should be getting into this discussion now.

"What did he say?" I inquire, asking about my brother.

Chase places his fork down, "He was looking for you. He said you ran away, didn't tell anyone where you were going."

"Well, I told you," I say trying to lighten up the mood.

"He's was really worried about you," he says, still in his inquisitive state, "I let him know you were here... with me."

"Oh," I don't know how to reply, "thanks..."

"I just really want to make sure you're okay," he consoles me. "You know I'm always here for you, right?"

"I know," I reassure him, "I think I kind of need a break from everything at home for a few days. Nothing makes sense anymore. I'm just trying to figure out who flipped the switch first to make all of this happen."

"Who knew you had such metaphors in your head," he says as his normal self again.

"Shut up," I tell him playfully.

Within seconds, however, the clicking of the front doorknob caught my complete attention. It just took me back to that horrible moment, I had tried so hard to put behind me.

I turn to Chase quickly, "Please tell me you don't have a secret lover who's about to walk through that door!"

"What?!" I caught him off guard.

And the rattle went on until...