Clarity

Three days later when I woke up, my head was pounding, my face had marks of mascara running down my face, and my hair was a disheveled mess. I hadn’t talked to Michael since our fight, and I had spent last night crying. I sighed and ran my hands down my face, rubbing the black marks on my face until they were gone. Frowning at my horrible appearance, I shook my head and walked out of my room and towards the kitchen.

The time on the microwave read 11:37, and I was relieved that I was able to sleep in. Caity was sitting at the table, her laptop open in front of her. She had her hair up in a bun, her glasses were on, and she was in her typical gray sweatpants and a New York Rangers hockey v-neck.

She turned around once I stepped into the kitchen, her eyes growing wide behind her glasses.

“Oh my god, Elena, you’re still upset,” she said quietly, her voice dripping with sympathy.

I shook my head, sitting down across from her.

She closed her laptop immediately and looked at me. “Do you want anything? iHop? I’ll make pancakes? I’ll go to the store and get the almond milk I know you love. Wait, do you want-”

I shook my head again, cutting her off. “I’m fine, Caity. Thanks, though.”

“Elena!” she whined, stomping her foot like an impatient five-year old.

I frowned, putting my head in my hands. “What?”

Caity groaned and stood up, from the sound of the chair moving. Moments later, I heard the refrigerator open, then slam shut. Then some cabinets were opened, then slammed shut, also. “This house is a fucking prison!” Caity screeched.

I stifled a laugh, but made no noises. “God dammit, Elena, I thought maybe that would get you to laugh.”

Still didn’t say anything.

“Holy shit, I’m gonna fucking kill your boyfriend,” Caity muttered.

I snapped my head up quickly. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“HA!” Caity exclaimed. “I knew that would get you!”

I frowned, slamming my head back down in between my arms. “How?” I asked.

Caity sat back down at the table, the chair squeaking again. “Remember in the eleventh grade when you and that kid Nick were together and everyone was like ‘Oh, how’s your boyfriend?’ and you would always scream ‘HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!’?”

I smiled a bit at the thought of my ex. “Ugh!” I muttered through my arms.

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely killing Del Zotto. I’m gonna text Carl now and see if he yelled at the dumbass yet.”

“Have fun with that.”

Once again, Caity stood up, her footsteps getting quieter as she moved away from me. “Oh, don’t you worry, I will.”

Moments later, she reappeared, sitting down at the table with me. I heard the faint sound of her phone ringing, and then the sound of Carl’s Swedish accent.

“Hi, are you with your roommate?” she asked.

I sat up, smoothing down my hair. “Caity-”

“SHH!” she snapped, listening to Carl talk. “Because he’s a dumbass.”

I shook my head, trying to make the most out of Carl’s muffled words. They were pretty hard to hear, considering the fact that Caity had the phone volume probably at the lowest possible setting.

As Carl kept talking, Caity began doing little things to occupy her. She kept readjusting herself in her seat, then playing with her hair, and then biting her nails. Once Carl stopped talking, she took a sigh of relief. “He made Elena cry.”

Cue pause.

“Do you not remember Elena walking into the apartment the other night looking like she was about to cry?”

Longer pause.

“She was crying, dumbshit,” Caity rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’ll see. Yeah. Talk to you later, bye.” she hung up the phone and placed it gently on the table. “What are you doing today?”

I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t know, why?”

“Carl says we should come to tonight’s game,” she suggested.

“Who are they playing?” I asked.

She shrugged. “No clue, but I think he said the Devils. It’s their last regular season game, and he thinks that if we’re there, Del Zotto’ll play better and they’ll win, considering they won last time we went.”

I frowned. “But I’m mad at Michael.”

Caity nodded. “I know, but apparently, he’s been playing like shit and the guys are worried. They feel bad. Carl thinks maybe seeing you will help.”

“But I’m mad at him,” I repeated.

“But you have to talk to him eventually!” Caity exclaimed.

I sighed. “I know.”

Caity smiled. “Okay, good, so we’re going.”

“Ugh, do we have to?” I whined, looking down at my feet.

Caity was typing away on her laptop, trying to figure out the game time and if it was at The Garden or Prudential. “Yes we do. And you’re gonna wear your Del Zotto shirt.”

My eyes widened, and I almost choked the minimal amount of almond milk I was drinking. “Are you serious?”

She nodded. “Yup. Okay, so the game is at 3 at The Garden, so we should leave around 2:15, so we’ll get there by at least 2:40.”

I sighed. “Alright.”

After sitting in silence as Caity sat on her laptop for six or seven minutes, I stood up, grabbed a peach from the fridge, and retreated into the living room. I turned on the TV and put my feet up on the coffee table.

Caity continued to type loudly on her computer, doing who knows what at this point. I changed the channel from MTV to Nickelodeon, where Spongebob was playing.

Best show to help my mood.

About ten minutes later, Caity came into the living room with two mugs, one filled with vanilla ice cream, and the other filled with chocolate. She sat down a foot away from me on the couch, handed me the mug of vanilla ice cream, then turned to watch Spongebob.

This is why she’s my best friend.

We sat in silence for another five minutes before her phone rang, Carl’s name flashing up on the screen.

“Hey,” she said, her voice cracking since she hadn’t talked in a good half hour. She paused for a few moments before talking again. “Yeah, we’re gonna come. She’s gonna wear her Del Zotto shirt.”

I stirred the ice cream in my mug, making it more fluffy and like a liquid. I listened as Caity and Carl spoke about the afternoon game, hopefully plotting for Michael’s mood to be lifted.

God, I hope I feel better too. I actually miss the kid.