Fighting... Cabin Fever?

A dreadfully long week since my last update, apparently. Believe me, it's not that I forgot about you, or that I'm dead, it's just that I've done exactly nothing since the beginning of the year.

No, wait, that's a lie. I did something yesterday.

It was kind of incongruous. Rick and Isa's birthdays are coming up, and since they're going to the Casino friday night, I thought I'd drop in to party with the rest of them. This caused a long conversation with Rick that pretty much went like this:

Me: "So I'm coming for sure, then."
Rick: "Great. Oh, and I read your scenario! It's badass!"

The scenario he's talking about is the one I've written for the side-project I'm sharing with Slim. The basic idea is that we're making a movie. A good one, this time.

Me: "Badass? Wow, cool. Thanks!"
Rick: "I am totally helping you guys out. I want a main role!"
Me: "Help yourself. We'll all be acting in it anyway, considering our team is limited to four people."

These four individuals being me, Slim, Rick and PB.

Rick: "We can't talk about this awesome masterpiece online. We should meet in person."
Me: "Agreed... Hey, have you even heard from PB? He hasn't answered a single one of my mails."
Rick: "I dunno... Maybe we're meeting for a movie tonight?"
Me: "Oh, excellent. Make sure to tell him to reply to me to make sure he's available."
Rick: "I was asking you."
Me: "... Oh, LOL. Um, well, if you don't think I'm a freaking moron, I'm in, then. Who else will be there?"
Rick: "I dunno yet. Slim's supposed to phone me to confirm, and PB and his new girlfriend should be there..."
Me: "Okay. What movie are we seeing?"
Rick: "I dunno. I'll talk about it with Slim."
Me: "And tell him I'm coming, too. He might want to prepare himself mentally."
Rick: "Do I want to know?"
Me: "Not particularly."

Some time passes, and I prompt Rick once more:

Me: "Rick, has Slim called? It's not that I'd like to know, but I kind of want to know."
Rick: "Yeah, he's driving over to my place right now. He should be here any minute."
Me: "Oh, good."
Rick: "... So are you doing anything right now?"
Me: "Bored much, Rick?"
Rick: "Hey, if you don't want to tell me, too bad, dammit."
Me: "It's a secret."

The truth is that I'm making his birthday present. And I can't tell him that!

Rick: "A secret. What is this? Fifth grade?"
Me: "Yeah, it's my daily moment of regression. ... Hey, do you like ostriches?"

A moment passes, and suddenly Rick types:

Rick: " What the hell do you want, woman?"

I pause in my typing. Finally, I write:

Me: "This tone sounds definitely familiar. Hey, Slim!"
Rick/Slim: "Damn, I am discovered."
Me: "Your aggressivity gave you away."

After a short conversation about Slim's inability to get things done properly, I ask once more, "So have you decided on a movie, guys? It's just that there aren't showings 'round the clock, you know."

Rick/Slim: "No, we haven't decided anything, you impatient bitch."
Me: "Thank you for the quick reply, asshole."
Rick/Slim: "It's what I do best, woman."
Me: "Good for you, moron."

A moment passes. Suddenly, Slim writes, "Okay, so I'm coming to get you. We're going to the **** *** ***** bar, and I'm picking you up." I'm about to reply, but he just types a quick, "See you in five minutes. Bye!"

And logs off after adding a smiley face.

Well. Okay.

"Mom!" I call, "Slim's coming to pick me up, we're going to see a movie, I think."

"When will you be back?"

"Um... I don't know. Some time tomorrow morning, I guess."

I don't wait long enough for Mom to make a comment and hurry upstairs to get changed. It's not so much that I was badly dressed until then, but I guess my cabin fever wanted to make the year's first evening out a good one. And every woman knows that a good way to feel good is to look good.

Jeans, a shirt with stretch lace, and some minimal make-up later, I finish tying up my hair when the doorbell rings. Hurrying downstairs to open the door and expecting to see Rick, I'm instead greeted by Slim, who, after recognizing me (maybe the lipstick was a little much? It doesn't take a lot to upset his references), shot me a bright smile, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"Yo-ho-ho, matey!" He says with the same beaming grin, "It's time to board for a sea of adventures!"

I laugh, grab my coat, call goodnight to my parents and brother, then return to put on my boots. The winter weather is surprisingly mild, making it a very pleasant evening.

Slim leans against my doorway and watches as I slip on my boots. Pressingly, he says, "Come on, wench, the ship won't wait forever and the winds won't stay fair all night."

I raise my head and stare at him flatly. " 'Wench'?"

He smirks. "It's that or 'whore', so I think I'm actually polite here. Now put on your boots, because this captain would like to make port elsewhere."

I roll my eyes and return to putting on my boots. "Is Rick in the car already?"

"Yeah, the first mate is waiting patiently," Slim says, turning his head to glance, presumably, in his car's direction. He chuckles. "And is having an epileptic seizure from the boredom of waiting after you."

"Fine, fine," I say, standing at last, "I get the message." I slip on my coat, then walk out past him. He reaches for the doorknob and closes the door behind me.

"Excellent, matey, let's make haste, the winds are good tonight, yo-ho-ho!"

We run back to his car, and I wave enthusiastically at Rick, who grins back, before slipping into the backseat.

"We're going on an adventure!" Rick says, bouncing excitedly in his seat like a demented kid. "An adventure!" He turns around and shoots me a big grin as Slim slips into the driver's seat and buckles up. "How are you?"

I grin. "Good."

"Perfect."

Slim rears out of my driveway, and bolts down the street, bobbing his head to the music that Rick just boosted. We reach the bar within minutes, and Slim parks so amazingly fast and well that Rick and I clap.

I step out, taking in the cool and pleasant air with a deep lungful. Everything seems so nice in that parking lot, somehow. Slim bumps into me on purpose, motioning for me to get a move on. I turn to look for Rick, but Rick just got a call on his cell, so I have nothing better to do than walk ahead towards the bar. Slim falls into step with me, and we stride over to the double doors.

The bar is packed. It's hockey night, and every giant television in the bar is tuned in on the match. Now and then, the whole bar roars up as goals are attempted. It's stifling hot, too. I wonder if we'll actually get a table.

Rick catches up with Slim and I as we discuss the number of televisions in the bar (so many that you get a good view of the match no matter where you turn your eyes), pushes between us and points to the staircase in front of us, still on the phone. "It's upstairs, guys."

Slim and I follow him, for lack of anything better to do. Within seconds, we find a booth where Ban, Fred and his girlfriend, Liz and Michelle (another girl from school) are chilling out. The booth is made to seat six people, but Rick slips in next to Fred, and Slim makes some space for he and I on the other side. In the heat, we remove our coats, and I notice that Slim is wearing a very nice polo shirt. I compliment him, and he grins.

The bar roars. Slim and I raise our heads to look at the screens.

I ask, "What's going on?"

Slim shrugs. "Hell if I know. I don't keep up with hockey stats."

Neither do I. It's one of those Canadian things I'll never understand.

Tiny unidentifiable players skate around. We don't even know who's trying to score in which net, but when the bar roars again, we hoot along with them, then burst into stupid giggles. Ban shoots us a disapproving glare, but I shrug and Slim pulls his tongue at him.

Ban asks, "Do you at least know what the score is?"

Slim shrugs. "Nope." He glances at the television. 3-3, we're in 2nd period. At least, that's what's written on the stats at the top of the screen. "Oh, hey, it's a tie for now." He turns back to Ban and snidely says, "If the Habs score another goal, the beer's on you."

Ban stares back at Slim flatly, then laughs. "Yeah, okay, no problem."

"The beer's on Ban??" We hear someone exclaim, and turn to see PB and his girlfriend. PB looks excited. "Oh man, I really hope they score!" He shoves Rick further down the booth bench, squeezing in. I'm grateful that Slim and I are already stuck together, because I don't think I'd have withstood more body heat. It's boiling in here.

"If they get owned, though," Ban says, "it's on Slim."

Slim laughs. "No, it's not. I never said that!"

Ban rolls his eyes, and we spend the next few minutes in silence. Michelle and Liz are deep in conversation with Fred. Suddenly, Slim holds up a hand, and I notice a nasty wound on it. It's a blood-filled blister. I look up at him and ask, "What happened??"

He wiggles his fingers to assuage the pain, and explains, "Too much drum playing. I figure if I break it it'll become sensitive and sore, so I don't know what to do."

I show him my bruised forearms and cut up hands. "Sears merchandise manipulation, as you can recall."

He smiles. "Yeah, I'm glad I won't have any of that anymore." He glances around at the busy, loud bar. "One day, when I'm rich, I'll have plenty of TVs in my house, just like here."

I laugh. "Yeah, when I'm queen of the world..."

He elbows me with a glare. The bar roars again. We scream something inarticulate, then turn back to our conversation.

"So," I ask, "have you read the scenario I sent you?"

He looks sheepish. "Um... no... I haven't had the time."

I squint at him. "But it's good!" I turn to look across the table at Rick. "Rick, tell him it's good!"

Rick's eyes are wide, and he looks at Slim in earnest. "Yeah, man, it's brilliant. I really cracked up."

Slim laughs. "I have absolutely no doubt that it's excellent, I swear. I'll read it, though, before next week."

Which reminds me... I look at PB, next to Rick, and ask, "Hey, why haven't you replied to my mails?"

PB chuckles. "I only check my mails at three in the morning... and I'm too lazy to reply by then." At my flat look, he assures me, "But I'll see if I'm free next Tuesday, like you asked. I promise."

Satisfied, I let the subject drop. A waitress passes by, and Ban calls at her from the far end of the booth. She turns, and Ban makes a circular motion above his head with a finger. "Pitcher for my friends!"

Slim butts in, "Four extra mugs, please!"

I turn to look at him. "I don't think―"

He smiles warmly. "Don't worry. I'll be responsible."

"You're driving."

"A glass of beer, CM."

"It's not a good idea."

"Dude," Rick suddenly says, "why didn't you order five extra mugs? We're five newcomers, here!" He motions to the three of us, PB and PB's girlfriend.

Slim looks pensive, then says, "No, I think I'll just be having water." He glances sideways at me. "But you shouldn't keep yourself from drinking."

I roll my eyes. "Beer tastes horrible."

Ban leans forward and says, "Oh, come on, CM, drinks on me, I'm serious, don't be shy."

I laugh. "No, thank you, Ban."

Michelle sighs loudly. "I think they've all just been looking for ways to see what you're like when you're drunk."

I shrug. "I don't drink, so..."

The waitress returns with the pitcher and four mugs. Slim stops her from leaving and says, "Hey, could we have two tall glasses of water, please?" He motions to himself and me.

And with that, Slim and I stuck to water. I was proud of him, I think, for being so mature, and I appreciated that he didn't make any more of a fuss about it. The bar roared again. We whooped.

"Hey," Slim says suddenly, glancing at him watch, "Not to break this party, guys, but it's quarter to ten and the movie's on soon."

We take our time to stand and leave. Michelle and Liz choose to come with us. Rick calls Drew to remind him that he's due to come with us. PB, Fred, their girlfriends and Ban stay behind.

We choose to see National Treasure 2. As we wait for the others to show up, I ask Slim if he even saw the first one. I had tried, but the unlikeliness of the scenario had almost made me gag, so it will forever remain a mystery plot to me. Slim shrugs and shakes his head.

The previews are already on when we finally enter the theater. We hurry to the back corner. Drew chose the back row, but the seats are limited. I make the mental calculation and groan. Two people will be left out.

Never one to impose myself, I choose the side row right in front of Rick, against the wall. It's a side row of two seats.

Slim plops into the spare seat next to me. I'm a little surprised, but I say nothing. It's not like he's going to make a move on me, so it doesn't really matter.

The movie begins. I must say that it was fine up until the Resolute desks part, but then the car chase in London had me and Slim snickering like madpeople, because on deserted streets, Slim likes to swerve into the left lane and scream, "WE'RE IN ENGLAND!" before swerving back into the right lane. The movie also had the uncanny ability to evoke inside jokes that had our group alone laughing hysterically. I don't think our neighbours appreciated the distraction, but hey, if something's funny...

I must say that Cage ********** the president was the start of the unlikely stuff that made Slim and I groan with pain.

'Round the parts about the lost native golden city, though, I started fidgeting in my seat, and Slim began murmuring suffocating 'No... no...'s that apparently angered Rick enough for him to put his feet between our seats, right next to our faces. In retaliation, Slim grabbed Rick's shoe, removed it from his foot, and threw it down the stairs of the theater.

The water tunnels part had Slim and I snickering at the improbability of it all, to Rick's great annoyance. He therefore proceeded to giving us head massages with his feet. We replied with well-placed tickles that saved us in extremis.

But when, soaked to the bones after emerging from the watery tunnels, Cage whips out his cell phone and places a call, Slim and I screamed in indignation. Seriously. That cell phone wasn't supposed to work. Our anger was palpable and Slim let out a heartfelt cuss under his breath.

At long last, the credits start rolling, and we stand, unable to withstand anymore nonsense. I utter a broken, "My screenwriting soul partly died just now."

He shakes his head mournfully, and says, "It's a Disney movie. We should have known."

"But... Pirates of the Caribbean..."

"Exception to the rule, as always."

"Oh. Yeah."

We leave the now deserted theater. It's half-past midnight, but neither of us is tired. Shockingly, we meet Fred outside, and he suggests a visit to Tim Hortons.

Seeing as we're all starved, it sounds like a decent idea. By now we're a group composed of Slim, Rick, Drew, Fred, Michelle, Liz, Renee (a girl I hadn't seen since high school and whom Slim used to date, a few years back), and myself.

Rick, Slim and I race back to the car, pile into it, then speed out of the parking lot. We meet up with the others in front of Hortons, and each order some donuts. I watch as Slim buys half a dozen of them.

"You know," Rick says with a surprising amount of concern, "I'm kind of worried about your diet, Slim."

Slim glances up from his donut. "...Why?"

"He's right," Fred says. "Let me guess, those donuts are going to be your lunch and supper tomorrow?"

Slim sighs, and nods. "Yeah. We don't have a lot of food at home. We only ever have the same bloody leftovers, and it's always tomato sauce, or bolognese sauce, or some other sauce that I'm supposed to prepare with noodles..." He laughs. "Except the parents are so rarely at home that we're always out of noodles."

"Geez," Michelle says, "Slim, you should complain about it to your parents."

Slim laughs nervously, and Renee butts in. "Yeah, we don't want you malnourished or anything."

Rick says, very seriously, "Slim, I'm not kidding. You only ever eat the same bloody thing every day, and that's if you eat at all. It's no wonder you're always sick. You need a balanced diet."

"And besides," Drew says, "you know that always eating the same stuff will eventually kill your appetite for new things."

Slim laughs. "I wouldn't count on that." Still, he must feel seven heavy and worried gazes on him, because he suddenly exclaims, "Look, guys, I appreciate your concern but there's nothing I can do about it."

Rick snorts. "You could just ask your parents to give you the money and do your own groceries."

Slim nods, clearly uneasy with all the worried attention he's getting. "Yeah, I'll try to―"

"Slim."

He sighs. "It's not as bad as you people say it is. Seriously. I eat good food and it's not that much of a hassle."

"But you're still making donut provisions," I say.

"Yeah, okay, so maybe I'm sick of eating the same stuff all the― What's that sound?"

We glance around. Something is beeping loudly.

"Cell phone?" I suggest, but no one recognizes the sound.

Suddenly, Fred takes out a small beeper and grumbles. He turns to look outside the window at his car.

"What the hell, someone's sitting on my car!"

He stands and stalks out to shoo the two lovers away. When he returns, we're laughing.

"What is that thing?" Michelle asks.

"It's an alarm," Fred says. "It tells me if anyone knocks into my car. Neat, huh?"

"It's weird," Renee says. Slim laughs.

Something is nagging at me. I get a sinking feeling, like I'm missing something. And then a part of me wonders...
Is Slim still into Renee after all this time? They've been talking, and they've spent a lot of time together since the New Year's... and his gaze does soften when he looks at her.

I feel a little sick to the stomach, and cover it up by striking up a conversation with Liz. I could be overreacting. I could be growing paranoid. I mean, he's spent a lot of time with plenty of people, and especially a lot of girls. He's openly announced that he wants a new girlfriend, and I can tell that they aren't on bad terms.

A part of me wonders why I'm so freaked out by this.

"Hey," Drew says, "We should go outside, we've passed our allotted loitering time."

We stand out by our three parked cars, and keep talking. We discuss gaming, games, Guitar Hero, the state of French in the province, the value of attending private schools as opposed to public schools, past teachers, past classmates, projects we worked on together, hobbies, future careers, job availabilities...

And before we know it, it's 3:35 in the morning. By then, Renee and Michelle have gone home, so it's the four guys, Liz and I left in the TH parking lot. Rick keeps nudging Fred to take him home. I'm a little perplexed because Slim's the one who kept giving him all the lifts tonight, and I'm a little worried because Mom probably didn't expect me to be out this long and I haven't called and she's probably worried sick...

Drew sidles up to Liz and asks her, shyly, "So... will you be nice enough to give me a lift home?" Which also strikes me as weird because I never thought Drew would show any sort of interest for a friendship with Liz. They're like polar opposites. He's the kind who likes shooting stuff up, and dresses in army wear, and wants to kick ass all the time, and Liz is the gentle, sweet, a little confused, petite redhead that tags along and smiles all the time.

But she nods with a smile and Slim and I watch as Fred and Rick and Drew and Liz drive away, leaving us alone in the parking lot.

Slim turns to me, and says, "Um... Well, I better get you home, then."

We sit in his car, and Slim drives out. Instead of putting in loud music, though, he sighs and says, "Poor Drew."

"What do you mean?" I ask, turning to look at him. He smiles a little wanly.

"He's got this massive crush on Liz."

I laugh a little. "You're kidding me."

He shakes his head. "No, I'm not. He's really into her, but has no idea how to make a move on her. I don't know how to explain to him that he's got to be a little bit more obvious. There's like..."

"A line you have to cross."

He nods. "Yeah, exactly! I mean," he chuckles, "sleeping next to her at a group sleepover doesn't quite cut the mustard, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." I smile a little. "Aw, it's kind of cute, though."

"Kind of sad, if you ask me," he says, but not without some amusement. "I have trouble imagining that a guy wouldn't be able to figure that out by now. I mean, I know a lot of stuff about girls because a lot of my friends are girls, and I grew up surrounded by them, but it seems basic..."

"Instinctive now that you learned?"

"Yeah." He nods. "Like, how to talk to them, what makes them flip, what makes them laugh, how to get under their skin..."

"Yeah." I smile. "I'm that way too, with guys. It's like―"

"―I know how to flirt―"

"―I know how to get their confidence―"

"―And they like talking to me―"

"―They often tell me it's great to talk to me―"

"―I kind of understand them―"

"―I can somehow relate―"

"―I mean, I could―"

"―I could flirt but I just don't."

"Would you stop talking at the same time as me?" He shoots me a sideways glance and a crooked smile as he turns onto my street.

"Sorry. So yeah, it's a pity about Drew."

"Yeah." He turns into my driveway, and puts on the handbrake. "So... yeah." He turns towards me. "It was nice seeing you."

"It was, wasn't it?"

He shoots me an exasperated look. "Don't be so snide... Oh, yeah, I'll talk to you later about the movie."

I smile. "Yeah, and please, could you try to read the script? I promise it'll be good."

He laughs at my turn of phrase. "Yeah, I'll do that."

"And if you have any changes you'd like to make, mail me, and blah blah blah."

"Got it... Hey, and we also have to schedule our CRAZY MAD AGE OF EMPIRES 2 EVENING NIGHT THING!" He says this with his typical open mouth excited face. "Don't think I forgot. We are going to do it!"

I can't help but laugh. "Yeah, I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good. So, um, good night...?"

"Or good morning, is more like it."

"Well, if you want to be so exact..."

"I'll talk to you later, okay? Actually, I'll see you Friday at Rick's party."

"Oh. Yeah. Cool. See you then!"

And I hop up the steps and into my home. It's ten to 4:00AM.

... I'll join Procrastinators Anonymous as soon as I get a full night of sleep, people.

Love,
CM