Birch was making a silly face, not taking any of this seriously. On closer inspection, I smiled at the little plastic ring on my finger. I’d worn it all the time, until I lost it one day at the park. I remember thinking it was the prettiest thing I’d ever been gifted. Really, it was just one of those cheap, metal rings with a fat pink plastic shaped jewel in it that one of them got from a vending machine.
Turning it over, I noted the date, our names, and My Pru added in the same masculine handwriting as the front of the envelope. The wedding photo was the only Polaroid of the bunch.
The next one made me laugh, chasing away the weird case of the sniffles the first one produced.
My lizard funeral. I looked so sad in the picture. I don’t even recall anyone taking a photo of it.
Elm was somber as he stood next to me. Birch stood off to the side. He looked like he was peering down into the hole we’d made. Cy stood across from us and just a little off to the side. He was glaring right at the camera. His eyes were noticeably red rimmed. I didn’t recall him being there for most of it. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might have been upset at my lizard’s passing. Flipping it over, again, it listed us, the date, the event,lizard funeral, with my name written in with Cy’s handwriting.
My first grade play. The Christmas play that they had Elm be Santa because he was the tallest in our whole grade. As I flipped, smiled, laughed, and grew a little teary eyed, I noted the pictures changing as we got older and the pictures grew farther apart in the years. When I reached our highschool years I expected them to stop. They didn’t.
The next set were high school and beyond. In each one, I was somewhere in the background of a bigger scene, the fair, some event or other I’d agreed to help my mom with. Each one, I was in there somewhere like a Where’s Waldo, customary frown in place that said I’d rather be anywhere else than peopling.
Each picture had My Pru, the date, and the event on the back.
Had our separation been as hard on him as it had me?
Staring at the stack, I put them all back inside the baggie but then grabbed the Polaroid out at the last moment. Stuffing the Polaroid into the pocket of the hoodie I’d fallen asleep in last night, the very same one Cy had left over here, my chest ached at the idea of being kept apart for an extended period of time again.
Why the hell hadn’t he called me yet? Come over? I don’t know. My number replaced my parents’ on the emergency call tree, for crying out loud.
Eyeing Elm’s box, I wasn’t sure I was quite ready for that yet. It was very Schrodinger’s cat with that thing. Our pseudo friendship, whatever one wanted to call it, was still very muchalive and dead at the same time. If I opened it… Well, I wasn’t ready for whatever may come of that. Not yet.
Shivering, I put my feet in my boots, which I’d abandoned beneath Dad’s desk, and stood to retrieve Cy’s blanket— I’d forgotten it in the living room last night.
Making my way down the hall, I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. Brrr. How long was I out that it was this chilly in here?
Getting the fire in the woodstove going good again, heating up the room nicely, I turned towards the couch to nab my blanket and wig beanie up, put the beanie on and wrap the blanket around me, spied Cy’s duffel bag, and nabbed that up along with to set by the door for him, should he decide to grace me with his presence in the near future. A sharp sound, like metal hitting to roll on the floor sounded as one of the duffel’s straps slipped from my hand, leaving the opened bag gaping.
A little shiny thing caught my eye. I’d just set his bag down to go chase the shiny metal thing that had fallen out when I spied it, a small square of color and a glossy sheen. Unabashedly snooping, I pulled free a Polaroid. A small snorted laugh escaped me as I stared at the thing. It was another picture of our fake wedding day. Cy was all smiles as I glared at him. Elm was scowling at Cy, his lip curled.
“He’d kissed me,” I recalled. Not a play kiss, like a light little peck, but landed one on me when I’d turned to kiss his cheek in fake wedded matrimony. I’d gotten a very short, overdone pouty lips smooch from my best friend’s little brother.
When Sunny scolded him for it later, Cy had looked so confused, claiming Birch had said he should kiss the bride, I’d actually believed him. I’d believed him so much I’d put it all out of my mind. Staring at this picture, I had to laugh.
“Brat,” I muttered, even as I smiled.
Wedding day, first kiss, the back said, Me and My Pru.
Has Cy always had a thing for me?
No. The idea was so ludicrous it was laughable. And yet… my gaze kept going to that picture.
Biting at my lip, I stared down at his gym bag. I should probably put it back in there.
Under the pretense of doing just that, I dipped down to slip it inside when my hand bumped something hard with a sharp corner. Pulling out a small, specific type of box, I cracked that sucker open fast, got one good look at the pink rock with a gold metal band inside, and about crapped myself.
My free hand was on my chest and spluttering gasps bubbled up my throat.
It was exactly then when a loud creak that was definitely not from my office chair issued.
Whipping around, I got a good look at the noisemaker and lost my voice. The large, insanely furry man… beast with wild pink eyes stood frozen in my kitchen.
Standing there feeling equally frozen in place, I gaped. Eyes bugging, mouth hanging wide open, my heart stuttered a step, lost a beat, to come roaring back online.
One of the potatoes popping from the top of the bag he’d obviously been stuffing them into fell to thunk loudly to the floor. Then we were both in motion, the tater stealing beastman garbling something out that sounded exactly like one of the Tree guys’ grumble-growled expletives, or the equivalent of, spun around and took off like a shot.
“Hey!” Realizing he’d just nabbed up my Turkey Day taters, I didn’t think as I picked up the lone potato left behind, the only god damn thing that made any effing sense in my life left, and rushed after him.
