13. SUBJECT: THANKS FOR THE CHOCOLATE
In Your Own Words
from: [email protected]
subject: Thanks for the chocolate
sent: March 4, 2017 at 4:49pm
Hey Cass,
I got the Reese's peanut butter cup you taped to my locker. Thanks, it was a nice surprise. How did you know they're my favourite? More importantly, how did you get into the men's locker room? These are very important and reasonable questions.
It's been busy. I worked two double shifts at the grocery store.
Mel and I are spending more time together now. Exclusively. We were on another date last week, right after the night we spent at Lena's, and I could tell she was itching to talk about where we stood.
Eventually, she asked me if I was dating anybody else, and I told her no.
She smiled and went back to eating. It was cute as fuck.
So yesterday I planned a big date. After work, I got a bunch of groceries to make dinner (it can be so convenient to work somewhere I have to shop at anyway), and I even picked up candles from the dollar store.
I was looking up instructions for baking chicken online when Jaz came home. I think I've mentioned it before, but Jaz is busy and hardly ever around.
He pulled a stool out to sit at the counter and asked me about Mel and what I had planned for tonight.
I gestured to the groceries and held up the white candles. I was proud of myself, not gonna lie.
"That's great, I'm sure she'll love it. What else are you doing?" He asked.
I frowned. I pointed at the food and candles again.
Jaz groaned. "Wes, man, you have to get her flowers or something. It's the gentleman thing to do," he told me.
"No, not if it's just a date. Maybe for like an anniversary. But this is a regular date. We're still really new." I shrugged. "I mean, do you think she's going to give me flowers?"
Jaz laughed. "Probably not. Hey, I read online that candlesticks on the dinner table were a tradition to keep unmarried couples from kissing, do you think that's true?"
"Probably not. I think it was more about the issue of lighting without electricity."
Turns out Jaz was wrong about two things. Mel loved dinner and the candles. She took photos of everything, and she even stayed over. I said goodbye to her early this morning because she had a dance team thing in Middleton.
As soon as she was gone, Peter came into my room and lay down on the floor next to my bed.
"Pete, what the fuck are you doing? It's too early. Get out." Weekends are my only chance to sleep in.
"I think the better question," Peter mumbled. "Is what the fuck were you doing last night? You guys were so loud." He yawned as if to say he hadn't slept last night because of the noise.
"Whoops," I said. "Sorry." Not sorry at all.
"No, you aren't." Sometimes I don't even notice how easily he reads my mind.
"Go back to bed," I told him, and hit him with my pillow. "It's still dark outside."
"No point." Another yawn. "Lena is on her way over."
"Uh oh. They broke up?"
He nodded.
Since the night we went to see her, Lena had been in limbo with Taylor. They hadn't spoken, so Lena still wasn't sure if things were over or if it was just a fight. Until today, anyway.
"Taylor went by last night and they talked. She got all her stuff and said she'd drop Lena's off sometime this week." Peter sat up and scratched his head. He looked kind of like a gorilla.
"They talked all night?" That seemed excessive.
"Yeah. Oh, and Lena doesn't want to be home when Taylor comes by, so she's staying with us for a bit."
She showed up pretty soon after. She walked right into my room, not knocking on either the front door or my bedroom door. I couldn't help but notice that she looked better than I expected her to look, and the duffel bag on her back was about as big as her.
"Okay," she started, dropping her bag on our kitchen floor. "I'm not going to cry, and I'm not going to wallow. But I am going to stay here until next weekend. I'm fine sleeping on the couch, or in Peter's room since Wes finds himself suddenly with a girlfriend." I went to argue, because I haven't had the girlfriend talk with Mel, but Lena talked right over me. "You will need to be nicer to me than normal, and you'll have to put the toilet seat down. Please. I say please, but if you don't, I will call your mothers and piss in your sneakers."
"Uh---" I started.
"You will be paid for your hospitality in two dozen cupcakes and a batch of snickerdoodles," she finished.
"Hold on. How did you get in? Do you have a key to our house?" Was all I could ask.
"I'd also like a caramel pie," said Peter, unbothered by her entry or demands.
It's weird, but she actually hasn't cried so far. She put all her things in the living room and asked us if we wanted some breakfast. She made us waffles and told us about a trip she to Thailand she'd started planning.
"You don't even eat pad thai," Peter said. "You said it's too sweet, remember?"
Lena rolled her eyes. "There's a lot more to a culture and country than one dish."
"I like pad thai," Peter grumbled, making me laugh.
Lena asked Peter if he was dating at all since Aisha. I had wondered about this too, actually, but hadn't asked the question.
"Well, I've been using the dating apps you recommended. Those are okay. Met some cute girls. I don't know, I guess I'm just getting used to being my own company." Peter gets embarrassed talking about girls sometimes.
"Well," Lena smiled. "You're not terrible company."
"Maybe you guys should date," I said, reaching for my coffee.
Peter winked at Lena.
"Well you're not so much my type," Lena smirked. "But I'll keep you in mind. You know, if I ever decide to procreate."
"Those babies will probably end up depressed and half-stupid, but they'll have excellent bone structure," Peter told her.
Sometimes I like my friends so much I start to like everyone else in the world a little bit less.
The rain is coming down crazy hard now, and our window is leaking a little bit. Sometimes I get headaches when it rains, but it's pretty comforting today.
Lena, Peter, and I are sitting on the floor doing homework, writing emails (me to you) and taking turns wiping the rainwater off the floor with one a shirt Will left in the bathroom.
Looking forward to hearing from you,
Wes
. . .
from: [email protected]
subject: Re:Thanks for the chocolate
sent: March 4, 2017 at 11:53pm
Dear Wes,
While you mopped up little puddles with your roommate's clothing, I bore witness to the weather's wrath, up close and personal.
It was so stupid.
I came into the kitchen this morning to find that Hank was nearly out of kibble; he only had enough food for breakfast. Hank didn't seem to mind, but I definitely did.
"Simon!" I yelled. "Hank needs more dog food."
I didn't care if he and Sarah were still asleep because this was Hank. Darling, trusting and slobbery Hank.
But there was no response.
I walked into Simon's bedroom and found it empty. For a moment, I convinced myself that Simon and Sarah had eloped and now Hank and I only had each other in this world.
But no, Simon had left a note on the fridge. He uses a BrailleNote Apex for school, which is kind of like a typewriter, but I'm still not very good at reading braille. He must have asked Sarah to write this one, because it was a visual note:
We didn't want to wake you. Sarah's parents came into town this morning on their way to a conference, so they're taking us out for breakfast. I know Hank's food is running low, but we'll pick some up on our way back home. You can feed him whatever is left in the bag, there's enough until dinner.
-Si
For some reason, a reason I cannot quite articulate, I threw the note in the trash, got dressed, grabbed an umbrella and texted Simon that I already bought dog food. I hadn't, but I was going to go get some. I told Hank I'd be back in twenty minutes and left the apartment. Stupid.
The buses don't run very often on weekends, so I walked. But I thought it was fine since I had a really sturdy raincoat and Simon's big umbrella. The trip there wasn't so bad. The rain was sporadic and made gentle tapping noises as I walked. It was the trip home that ruined me. The wind manipulated what had been friendly rain into an angry storm. The umbrella turned inside out, the hood of my raincoat refused to stay on my head, and eventually the water soaked through to my clothes.
I hate March. It's still so cold. For whatever reason, I always assume that March brings spring, but I have not found that to be the case this year.
When I got home I realized that the water compromised the structure of the new bag of kibble---it was completely falling apart. I spent the better part of an hour scooping what was dry from the new (wet) bag into the empty one Hank had finished this morning. Simon and Sarah came home to find me sneezing and coughing, surrounded by dog food and a worried Hank.
I had a fever by dinnertime. It's not too bad yet, but I can feel it getting worse, especially in my throat. I'm in bed now, wrapped in a blanket and writing to you.
It was all so ridiculous.
I'd felt such conviction this morning --- but for what reason? There was absolutely no point in going out into the rain like that. Simon would never let Hank miss a meal. I know that. I would have known that without his note. But when I read Simon's words, I felt like it wasn't good enough.
Hank needed me to take care of him now. I was there for him when Simon was off at brunch. I was going to take care of him. I know that's unfair and silly. Hank is fine. More than fine, actually. He's licking my ankle right now.
Sarah is going to drive me to the doctor tomorrow to make sure this isn't anything more than a cold.
I'll tell you if I've got pneumonia or something.
Cassie
. . .
from: [email protected]
subject: Are you following me?
sent: March 5, 2017 at 3:47pm
Weston,
Well I came home from the doctor (It isn't pneumonia, just a cold.) and I found a large brown paper bag sitting outside my front door. I'd initially walked by it, assuming it was a mistake. But Sarah stopped me and pointed out that it had my name written on it. In large black marker, it announced me: Cassie Belford.
Inside, I found some soup from the Village Grocer, cough drops, and 'hockey socks'. The hockey socks, which I didn't know were a thing, had a note that read: Hank should not be able to lick your ankles when you're sick, you should wear these with your thickest socks. They're kind of like bulky leg warmers from the eighties.
How did you get my address?
Is this your way of getting me back for the peanut butter cups on your locker? Let me remind you that the locker rooms are a public space. I realize that I'm not technically allowed to be in the men's locker room, but nobody gave me any trouble (although, I would not recommend you going into the women's locker room. That would be a very problematic, based on mainstream gender norms.) Also, your locker had your last name on it. What's the point in labelling the lockers if not to help others identify the owner?
Speaking of problematic: how did you get into my building and how did you know which unit was mine? It was a very nice gesture and everything, but to be honest, I'm a little freaked out about this. Remember, this is a job. We can be friends, but only email friends. You cannot follow me home.
Cassie
. . .
from: [email protected]
subject: Re: Are you following me?
sent: March 6, 2017 at 10:15am
Cass,
Jesus Christ, relax. I'm not following you.
When you said you were sick, I asked a friend for a favour---this particular friend worked in the Student Services office as a summer assistant. My friend maintains access to the database and was willing to break some rules, so I could help out another friend (you.)
That's as specific as I'm going to be. I'd hate to get my buddy in any trouble, and right now you seem like a wild card.
I'm just saying thank you for my peanut butter cups, and your emails and everything. I like writing to you, and I'm sorry you caught a cold.
Speaking of your cold, I have some ideas about why you caught it.
I don't think it's weird that you went out in the rain to get Hank his dinner. It makes a lot of sense. Even though you knew Simon would get it in a couple hours, you did it because you knew you didn't need to wait. You could do it for yourself, and even though you got sick, you still made sure Hank was a happy dog. You were Hank's hero, and that's pretty cool.
I took the bus to your place this morning to drop off your care package which I haven't done in a long time. I don't like the bus. I feel like I'm always in people's way. There was one lady today who would not stop glaring at me. It was like she thought I took up too much space.
Like, sorry lady, I'm a big guy, but I'm not fat.
Peter says he's starting to get fat. I honestly don't see it, but he's working out in the mornings with me now, so that's been fun. He and I can get competitive with each other when it comes to athletics, but he's been out of practice for a while, so I've been winning more often---and he's okay with that.
He's been doing really well lately. I think having Lena around has put him in a good place. He's been making more jokes and spending more time outside the house it's great.
My class is about to start now. I should listen, since midterms are starting again (I don't get it with midterms. We have them at least four times a semester.)
If it makes you feel better, I promise I won't bring anything else to your house. I thought you could use some of our split-pea soup and didn't know how else to get it to you.
Feel better,
Wes
. . .
from: [email protected]
subject: Re: Are you following me?
sent: March 6, 2017 at 10:22am
Weston,
Well okay then, thank you.
Cass
. . .
from: [email protected]
subject: Re: Are you following me?
sent: March 6, 2017 at 11:46am
Happy to help!
Wes