They Let Us Play With Markers, but I Keep Trying to Draw Infinity

Tuesday morning I woke up before my alarm. It was a phenomenon that rarely ever happened, but it coincided with the inability to fall asleep the night before and to stay asleep throughout the night. It was always caused by either nerves or dread, and last night it just so happened to be both. I had no idea why I was so depressed. I knew I was overreacting yet I couldn’t make myself stop and get over it, and it was far too late to change my reaction. If I suddenly started being okay, people would think I was getting worse, denying the fact or simply going crazy. Not everyone would, of course, just the smart people like Randy or Chuck. Sometimes they were so damn intuitive that they read too much into things and overshot the actual point. But you couldn’t blame them. They were just being good friends, and I wouldn’t dare ask for anything different.

I had forgone a shower the night before because showers in winter suck no matter what time of day you take them but trying to fall asleep with wet hair in a cold bed is a horrible feeling. Of course, stepping outside with wet hair isn’t much of a picnic either, but since it was cold, I could successfully blow dry hair without getting heatstroke. I wasn’t in the mood to dress cute, but I knew that if I didn’t make an effort I’d feel like shit the whole day, so I grabbed a pair of black jeans, a quarter-sleeve blue button down, black vest and thin black scarf with a pair of knee-high suede black boots and considered myself in the mirror. I turned, looking at myself from either side as well as the back, and shrugged. Tying my hair into a messy side braid, I skipped down the stairs.

Yesterday Randy had gone around to all her teachers explaining the situation and figuring out how she could continue her courses online so she had no need to come to school today. However, Chuck, Tristan, and I still did so Randy decided to tag along. It’s not like she had anything else to do.

I pulled my hat over my head, wrapped my scarf around my neck, pulled on my gloves, and slipped into my coat, zipping it up carefully to avoid snagging my gloves or scarf. I shrugged on my backpack, grabbed my keys, and made sure my phone was in my pocket as I stepped outside, onto the porch, and locked the door behind me. As soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk, I could see Randy waiting at the end of the block, presumably with headphones in her ears as she danced along the edge of the street, ignoring people who looked, waved, or honked. She quit spinning as I came closer but didn’t stop dancing, holding out one of the earbuds. I popped it in my ear and nearly pulled it back out as Bleed American by Jimmy Eat World assaulted my ears, completely unexpecting something so energetic so early in the day, but that’s just how Randy rolls.

“Good morning.” She grinned and pulled me along with her down the street. “Off to pick up Chuck.”

“You’re far too happy this morning.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to grin.

Chuck was just exiting her house when stopped in front of it. She rushed down the stairs and enveloped Randy in a hug.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving! I’m gonna miss you!”

“I’ll miss you too, Chuck. Whenever you’re not texting Jacob, send me one, huh?”

Chuck stepped back and looked mildly shocked yet partly amused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

I could feel my eyes widen by a millimeter. “Nothing,” I said quickly. I didn’t exactly want it common knowledge that Randy and I had been discussing Chuck’s verbal sex life. Not that I had any idea what Randy’s intentions were, but I have a tendency to be overcautious at times. “Let’s go. I’m freezing, and I want coffee.”

The school’s bookstore was almost a miniature Barnes and Noble but without the name brand or the variety. Most of the space was taken up by shelves full of text books and required reading materials but a small portion in the back corner was devoted to hot drinks and comfortable seating. When we stepped inside the place was practically empty, most people already attending some class, but the three of us refused to get up early enough to attend a seven or eight o’clock class.

“So what are you going to do while we’re in class?” I asked Randy. I gently blew on my coffee, wanting it to cool off quickly. At least the heat of the liquid was seeping through the cup and my gloves so that my hands were beginning to thaw.

Randy shrugged and kicked her legs onto the low table in front of us. “Though I might visit the old haunts, give them one last goodbye.”

“When did you become so sentimental?” I asked sarcastically.

“Oh, always,” she said. “I’ve just hidden it deep down so you wouldn’t take advantage of my weaknesses.”

My pocket buzzed, and I rolled my eyes as I struggled to reach into my pocket to pull out my phone. It was a text from Tristan wishing me a good morning and asking if I was on campus yet. I pulled off a glove with my teeth and typed back that we were sitting in the bookshop coffee store warming up and, in my case, waking up.

When I looked up from my phone, Chuck was busy texting on hers, and Randy was staring off into space. I smiled, cherishing the moment. Though I must have dazed amidst my cherishing because suddenly someone’s hands were massaging my shoulders. I nearly jumped out of my seat and I hardly caught the scream trying to escape from my throat as I quickly realized it was only Tristan and we were in a quiet area. Chuck and Tristan tried to hold back their grins and giggles, but Randy sometimes appears to have less self-control or she simply is more willing to succumb to and embrace the outrageous moments in life.

“I’m sorry,” Tristan chuckled in my ear before he kissed my temple.

I hit his shoulder as he slid down the armrest and crammed next to me in the chair. “It’s not funny, so stop laughing!”

Randy shut her mouth, but she kept the grin.

The day felt like an episode of Dr. Who with time passing as if there were no barriers, no limitations. All you had to do was jump in a blue police box and you could be transported to the future. Basically, we were leaving for the airport before I knew it. The two hour car ride to the airport seemed like seconds -- I think I feel asleep -- and then we were standing at security, saying goodbye.

“See you sexy bitches in a month,” Randy said, shifting the weight of her carryon on her shoulder. “Don’t forget about me.”

“I think we’re the ones who should be saying that,” I corrected.

When we got home, I couldn’t remember any more than that. I know everyone hugged. I know we waited around until they boarded then left when the plane took off, but I don’t remember anyone’s reactions. I don’t remember what anyone said. In retrospect, it all seems very surreal, but I know tomorrow’s going to suck when I walk to school and Randy isn’t standing at the corner waiting for us.

After that day, time didn’t seem to move at all. Every day at school was excruciating. The constant homework pissed me off. I felt restless and angry, trapped in a tiny box in the same cramped position. I needed space to move and breathe, space the Midwest just didn’t seem to give me anymore. And Randy was no help. Every time I would talk to her about it, she would tell me to quit school, move out west with her, and write.

I don’t think it helped that my remaining friends didn’t seem to notice any change in me. Chuck was so consumed with her long distance relationship with Jacob; they had officially blossomed into a couple and neither could wait for Spring Break. Tristan was wrapped up in his art. He was creating an extensive portfolio for... something. I don’t know. I was having trouble focusing on anything. My brain was this big Gaussian blur, and I couldn’t pick out the individual pieces.

I spent the entire weekend after Randy and the guys left huddled in my room with my laptop, working on homework and trying to get ahead as much as possible. Sunday evening, just as I was printing my last current paper, I got a phone call from Mikey.

"Hello?" I asked, a little confused as to why he would be calling me.

"Hello, you beautiful bitch. I need to talk to the King of Fucktards."

"What are you talking about? Tristan's not here," I added once it clicked what he was after. "Have you tried calling his phone?"

"Yes, you intelligent cunt." I sighed. Apparently Mikey's vocabulary had already grown. "His phone's off. Or dead. He said he was rolling with you tonight."

"No, we hadn't made any plans..."

"Oh. Uh... just forget I called then. Bye!"

Mikey's voice sounded as awkward as I felt which only increased the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I may not have known Tristan all that well but Mikey's surprise led me to believe that if he was currently in the act of adultery, this was the first time. Or the first time he'd gotten caught.

I felt sick, the chili I'd had for dinner sitting unpleasantly in my stomach. I tried calling Randy, wanting advice desperately, but she didn't pick up, so I tried Chuck but hers when straight to voicemail. The inability to get a hold of either of my best friends only increased my irrational panic. I couldn't focus on anything anymore and I couldn't breathe without feeling nauseous. Though it was only just after nine, I shut my computer and climbed into bed, feeling so completely alone.

I must have shut my alarm off in my sleep because I woke up late the next morning. I had two missed calls and a text. The text was from Randy: 'Sorry. At a show and didn't hear my phone.' One call was from Chuck: "Hey. Where are you? I waited as long as I could, but I'm gonna be late." And the other was from Tristan: "Hey, babe. How come you missed class? Are you sick? Call me and I'll bring you some soup. See ya later." There was a smile in his voice, I could hear it, and it made me shrink back under my covers.

When I reemerged, it was one clock and I had more messages waiting. Another missed call from Chuck: "Josey, what's up? Are you sick? Text me so I know you're still alive, and I'll bring you notes." And a text from Tristan: 'I'm coming by after work. Ice cream?'

I was so confused. I liked Tristan, right? Yes, of course. Was Mikey ever well-informed? No, not really. He'd study like a madman for tests that were still a week away, and once he missed his favorite band in concert because it thought it wasn't for another month. So, did I have any reason to believe Tristan was cheating? No, none at all. So why was I still worried?

Tristan texted me around seven, apologizing because his sister forced him to babysit so he couldn't come over but he wanted me to call him, let him know I was still alive.

I had never allowed myself to make a habit of ignoring people's calls or texts because I found it horribly rude but this time I just couldn't acknowledge humanity, I didn't want to, and by the time I went to bed Monday evening, I had my cover story.

Tuesday morning I woke up early enough to take my time getting ready. I stepped into the cold February air feigning refreshment and hoping I could trick myself into believing it before long. I came upon Chuck waiting for ms and anxiously checking the time on her phone.

"Morning," I greeted, giving her a happier-than-not half smile.

"Josey! Where were you yesterday? And why didn't you answer your phone?"

"Ugh." I closed my eyes at the memory, playing the part. "In short, a series of annoying events. I must have turned my alarm off in my sleep because I woke up late, and then I couldn't find my phone, my clothes were still wet when I checked the dryer, and we didn't have Internet. I eventually found my phone though." I pulled it out of my pocket and shook it as proof. "It was on silent and buried in my covers."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie," Chuck cooed, ever the understanding friend. Now I just had Tristan to face and convince.

"Hey, beautiful," he said as I sat next to him, and he kissed my cheek. "You look amazing. What's the occasion?"

"None. I just had a lot of time this morning. What'd I miss yesterday?"

"Class."

"Oh, hah hah. You're hilarious." I rolled my eyes as Tristan chuckled and bumped my shoulder. I took a deep breath and realized I wasn't worried anymore, that the whole thing was a ridiculous overreaction and that Mikey needed to get his head on straight if he was going to successfully manage Missing the Ground.

Tristan and I had an easy going time for the rest of the day -- he even bought me lunch -- and I decided that I was going to be okay after all.