Come On, Sweet Catastrophe

Derek stumbled into the kitchen at around nine thirty that morning, wearing only a pair of light blue boxers and a shrunken, old Blink 182 t-shirt. His short, choppy hair was a tousled mess atop his head, and there was about two or three days worth of stubble lining his jaw and upper lip.

"It smell good in here." He mumbled tiredly, collapsing into one of the cushioned bar stools by the island.

I poured coffee into a mug and set it in front of him. With the hand that wasn't being used to lazily cradle the weight of his head, he reached for the mug and brought it to his lips. He smiled at me in appreciation, sipping the strong, bitter, hot liquid slowly. I walked back to the stove and grabbed my spatula off of the granite counter.

"How did you sleep?" I asked, flipping the pancakes on the griddle.

He shrugged his shoulders, sitting up and stretching his arms out horizontally from his body. He twisted awkwardly, stretching the tight, sore muscles in his back. I cringed as i heard his spine crack in three different areas, making a mental note to book him a chiropractor appointment for later that week. I know that they say that going to chiropractors wasn't very good, but I was sure it was healthier than him cracking his joints himself.

"I hope you're hungry." I said, sliding the eggs from the skillet and onto his plate, grabbing the butter dish and maple syrup. I made my way toward him, setting it down in front of him and watching the way his eyes lit up at the mere sight of food. "I really went all out this time."

He bit his lip, staring down at his plate before reaching for his fork and knife. He then pulled out the seat beside him, patting the leather cushion. "Come. Sit. Eat."

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my plate and orange juice and sitting down beside him. I grabbed my fork and knife, neatly slicing into my stack of pancakes, and bringing up a small portion into my mouth. I glanced at him as I chewed, watching him as he stabbed an egg and shoveled it into his mouth in it's entirety. I gaped at him, and he turned to look at me, grinning as he tried to chew the large mass. A little bit of the runny, yellow yolk dribbled out of the side of his mouth, and I scoffed, grabbing a napkin and wiping it away. He then proceeded to grab a half-eaten orange slice from his plate and shoved it into my mouth. I spit it out, grimacing at the bitter taste that the white pith left on my tongue. I turned my head, sending a glare in his direction. He smiled back innocently as he swallowed, reaching for my orange juice and drinking more than half of the glass.

Sometimes, it felt like Derek and I were more friends than boss and employee.

---

Derek didn't have to work today.

Well, he did, he just chose not to. He felt that he deserved a day off, though his work wasn't exactly physically demanding. He didn't actually need this job, though, because he had made enough money in his lifetime to live comfortably for the rest of his life without working. He just kept the job because he needed a distraction. One thing that every person coming into Derek's life after the accident must be aware of was that he always needed a distraction. He wasn't going to tell you this, because I'm pretty sure he wasn't even aware of it, so they'd have to figure it out on their own after knowing him for a couple days, or had to be told of this by one of his friends or family. Derek didn't meet any new people, though, so we didn't have to worry too much about it.

Since the accident, Derek's mind has been working on overdrive. Without some form of distraction at all hours of the day, his thoughts would surely drive him to insanity. He had somehow convinced himself that the entire mess was his fault, when really, the drunken man at the wheel of the red pick-up truck was to blame. So, much like a child, what people he had left worked together, basically making a schedule to take turns occupying him at all hours of the day, except for when he was sleeping. He didn't have much time to think at night, because the doctors had prescribed him pills that knocked him out only about ten to fifteen minutes after in-taking them, and he'd be unconscious until the next morning.

But after a while, his friends were a bit fed up. After two years of revolving their lives around Derek and seeing absolutely no progress in moving on, they didn't come around as often. They still loved him very much, but couldn't stand to see him like this any longer. So, if he wanted to see them, he'd had to go to them instead of the other way around. They were tired of being the only ones making an effort. Derek never came around, though. He didn't like to leave his house. He only left if he had to go into work to hand something in directly to his boss, or when he was in desperate need of new clothing. Even then, he wouldn't try them on in the store, and then come home to see that they didn't fit him. So, he'd have me take them back for him, and that would be it. I had started going clothing shopping for him last year. I suppose it was in a girl's blood to be able to easily guess the right sizes. It was easier this way, because he could stay in and have his clothing picked out for him. I was pretty much the only one left. No one stopped by anymore, and I practically lived here. I'd go to my classes three times a week, and that was it. Almost all of the rest of the time was spent taking care of this man. He was so incapable of doing it himself.

Sometimes, it felt more like I was his mom than his friend.