Part 1
It never feels good when you try to explain something to someone who is looking at you like you just pulled your own ear off and showed them the land of Narnia through the hole in your head.
"Ohhh-kayyyyyy..." Jon said, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up toward the sky as he turned his back toward me. "Can you believe this shit?" He said to Mike, who was alternating glancing between Jon, myself, and a jar of cookies.
"Come on, man," I said. "At least let me tell you how this all happened..."
"Nope," he responded as he walked over to the cupboard and began pulling down some form of Sara Lee snackycake.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because you're full of shit?" he said with a teensy bit inquisitive hostility.
"What!" I shouted. "Why would I make this up???"
Jon snorted. "Let's just say that this isn't the first story of yours that I've not been able to bring myself to believe..."
That much was true. What he left out - what he always leaves out - is that eventually, they all prove themselves to be true, and he always just sneers and says "eh, whatever..." and continues to disbelieve me, no matter what I tell him. Such is the way Jon is. He's a skeptic, and like all skeptics, he would have refused to believe there was a stick in his ass until you pulled it out and showed him the poo-covered hunk of wood... And then he would have just sneered and moved on to the next thing he refused to believe.
"Well, I don't really care if you believe me or not," I said. "The major point here is that there is a 35 year old chick from Phoenix that I hardly know sleeping on our couch, and I don't know how to get rid of her."
Jon turned and looked at me. "You want her gone?" He asked.
"Well... Yeah," I said, "She's creeping me the hell out. But how do you do that?"
He marched over to the kitchen door. "Watch," he said just before slamming the door open. With a huge crash, the door bounced off of the adjacent wall and swung back at him, forcing him to push it open far more gently just to get it out of his way. "Hey!" he shouted as he approached the couch.
The sleeping crazy chick stirred slightly. "Huh?" she muttered.
Mike and I walked into the living room as Jon knelt down to get face-to-face with the nutjob. "You can't stay here," he said plainly.
"Err... Huh?" she said, struggling to sit up and struggling even harder to open her eyes.
Jon sighed and hung his head momentarily, before returning to posture. "You," he said, pointing at her. He then swung his hand toward the front door and added, "have got to GO."
"What... Why..." the chick said.
"To tell you the truth, I don't know, either," he replied, "But Joe doesn't want you here, so... Off you go!" He stood up and looked at me. "See? Not so hard, is it?"
"Dude..." I said, hanging my head.
"Wow," Mike managed to squeak out.
"Wait... You... You don't want me to stay?" the crazy chick said as she looked toward me, her bedraggled hair hanging in her face.
"Well..." I said.
"Well, nothing!" Jon interjected. "You just got done telling me you don't want her here!"
"Wait," I said, attempting to do damage control on this rapidly scorching earth. "You didn't even let me tell you what was going on..."
"You didn't need to!" he said. "You said she was crazy and you don't want her here. I told her to leave. Problem solved, right?" he said, heading toward the stairs. "Now come on... Let's go play some Goldeneye."
The dazed and confused girl on our couch blinked a few times and looked at me in disbelief. "You... You called me crazy?"
"I, uh... Well, yeah, I guess I did..."
She sat there for a moment, absorbing the situation. "...What the FUCK?!?" she finally said, shaking her head and throwing her hands toward the sky before letting them fall on her lap. "Why did you tell me I could stay then?"
"You... Don't have anywhere to go..." I looked around the room for emphasis, as if staring through the walls and out into the large expanse of places just outside our house that she could not go.
"Well, I'm not going to stay here if you don't want me to!" She shouted.
"Great! It's settled then!" Jon said as he began marching up the stairs. The hallway echoed with his voice as he shouted "Come on, guys! Goldeneye!"
The room became uncomfortably quiet. Well, okay, it was uncomfortable before this, but with the quiet added on, it took on a whole new dimension. "Look, I'm... I'm really sorry," I tried to say, knowing I was saying it only to make myself feel better.
"You're sorry?" she blurted, brushing her hair out of her face with the back of her hand. "YOU'RE sorry?"
"Um... Yes?" I said, hoping I'd chosen correctly. Mike just stood behind me, watching.
She scoffed. "Yeah... I bet you are..." She tossed aside the blanket I'd brought down for her and began looking around for her socks and shoes. "I bet you're REALLY sorry that someone has taken an interest in you! I bet you're sorry that you've got someone here who understands you... Or, at least thought she did..."
I sighed. "Look--"
"No, you know what? You know what? I'M sorry!" She yelled, pulling her left sock onto her foot. "Yeah... That's right, I'm the one who's sorry here! I'm sorry I fucking flew here, I'm sorry I talked to you on the phone all those nights..."
All those nights? We talked like four times!
Shhhhh! I'm trying to deal with this!
Splendid job you're doing.
Shush, you! I don't need any subconscious distractions right now!
No?
No!
You mean you wouldn't like thinking about ambushing Jon in the corner of the all-white Control Room level in Goldeneye with the all-white Baron Samedi right now?
Stop!
Man... He'd come running up that ramp with James Bond, that stark black tuxedo against those white walls...
KNOCK IT OFF!
He wouldn't even know what hit him... One shot kill! Bang!
Heh... Yeah... Again, even.
He always falls for it.
Yeah... It rules...
She's yelling.
Huh...
"ANSWER ME!" she screamed.
"And what would you have me say?!?" I replied, trying to play like I was in complete control when, in actuality, I hadn't heard a word she'd said.
"I don't know - like, 'Thank you, Jessica?' Like, 'Thanks for spending all that money to come out and see me, Jessica?' You know... Something like that?"
"Um..." I replied... "I don't think..."
"Yeah, you don't think, do you!" she screamed, putting her other shoe on. "You don't even think about how hard it must have been for me to step on that plane and come out here, not knowing what I was walking into... GOD! What an idiot I am!"
"I... Uh.." I couldn't think of anything to say. On the one hand, I really did feel bad for Jessica... I imagine the flight wasn't cheap, and I know that she'd just expended a tremendous amount of effort to get to Atlanta just to see me - a guy she'd only talked to for a few weeks, but somehow felt compelled to fly across the country to meet. But on the other hand, she was only one shoe away from walking out the door, and I really, REALLY didn't want to interrupt that.
"Whatever! WHATEVER! Just... ARRRGH!" she said, standing up and grabbing her bright red suitcase from beside the couch. "Just... Don't ever call me again! Okay? Don't do it! I mean it!"
"Okay," I replied with a shrug.
Her eyes popped out of her skull and her jaw hit the floor. "Okay?!? OKAY!?! That's all you have to say?!?"
"Um... Yes?" I said, guessing again.
She turned in a huff, her reddish-brown hair twirling around behind her. She marched to the front door and yanked on the doorknob, only to discover Jon's habitual need to lock the door every single time it is closed. With a grunt, she twisted the lock one way and tried the knob, then twisted it the other way and tried again. With a strained noise, she finally turned the tumbler and was able to open the door.
"Just... FUCK YOU!" She screamed as she pushed against the screen door and went absolutely nowhere, storming directly into it. Jon habitually locked that one as well.
I tried to hold back my laughter as she fumbled with the latch and finally got it opened, and then stomped outside, slamming the door behind her.
I stood there completely shocked. This was by far the most surreal moment of my entire life. I'd just been left by someone who'd only arrived a few hours before.
"Wow," Mike finally said. I turned to face him. He wore a gigantic grin. "So..."
"Don't start," I said, executing a perfect facepalm.
"Someone got a little more than they 'ordered', I see?"
"Oh GOD," I groaned. "PLEASE don't start with the puns..."
"Did you have to press '0' to let her in the house?"
Without a word, I began marching into the kitchen, giving him a less-than-gentle shove as I passed him.
"Okay, okay! Seriously," he said, following into step behind me, "I just have to ask one question, and it's an honest question, okay?"
I sighed. "Fine..." I muttered.
"...So answer it honestly, okay?" He stated.
"Yes, yes!" I stated, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and placing it under the faucet. "Just ask the damn question."
"Why the hell is she here?"
I took a drink of water and chased it with a deep breath. "You want the whole story?"
He grabbed the jar of cookies from the counter and took a seat at the kitchen table. With a light gesture, he invited me to sit in my usual spot.
"Well... Alright," I said as I took my seat. "And you're going to let me actually tell it?"
"Don't I always?" He said with a smile.
I smirked. "Fine... Alright, like I was trying to tell Jon, you know that 1-800-MUSIC-NOW thing?"
He nodded.
"Well..."
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