The Enigma’s Anomaly

I don’t come across a town until well after the rain has really started pouring down. It’s very late, and this is a small town, by the looks of it. I can’t even read the sign at the entrance of the town because the rain is so thick.

I walk forward and look for some sort of guiding light. The town is pretty tiny and I see almost no buildings, but there’s at least many more then I’ve seen in many hours.

I see blissful civilization a bit far away in the form of a diner. I hope it’s an all-night diner, but the fact that it’s lighting up, with a blinking ‘open’ sign in the window is a good signal.

I make a slow stride over to the diner, wanting nothing more than to be warm or have something warm to drink. I hit myself because I remember that I have no money.

This is just great.

I get there in a few minutes, but it takes a very long time because I’m so exhausted. My arm is killing me, my feet are too, and my heart is screaming out for Gerard. Also I’m freezing from the rain, and I don’t have a shirt or shoes. It looks like I had a really bad day out at the beach, considering my attire.

The minute I step into the small restaurant I’m greeted with a welcoming feeling of warm air. It smells like coffee and the heat is absolutely amazing. There’s also a dripping sound and I realize that that’s me.

I look up and around to see who else is here. There’s a man sitting at the far end of the diner staring at me and a woman by the counter who looks extremely surprised at my entrance.

She’s an older woman, late forties to early fifties. Kind-faced with laugh lines, and a little on the heavy side. She’s leaning against the counter when she looks up to me.

I must look a wreck. Dripping everywhere, tired, wounded. I’m glad I don’t have to see myself right now.

“Good gracious, dear. What happened to you?” the woman asks, and her slouch turns into a quick vigilant one.

“Hm? Oh, right, yeah. Got mugged a little ways down the road,” I say carelessly, and I shake my head like a dog to make some of the water go away.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” she asks and walks over to me.

“Nah fine. Just took my stuff. Didn’t hurt me too much,” I say.

“Oh dear, you’ve been shot!” She says, and I look down.

I shrug, “No that’s weeks old.”

“Oh god, do you need something? I’ll get you something warm, hold on dear,” she says, but I gesture for her not to worry.

“No, thanks. I just needed some warmth. I don’t have any money anyway,” I say.

“Nonsense, I’ll get you a coffee,” she says and then points to the nearest booth. I think she’s telling me to sit down, and I am way too tired to refuse.

I collapse onto the booth, but I let my legs hang off the side so that I’m not actually sitting at the table.

“Please, its fine, I don’t need... I just wanted to rest a minute.”

She chides, “Sorry dear, but you need something warm. You’ll catch the flu in your state.”

She’s definitely not wrong about that. I always get sick, it’s a little insane. I almost forgot that, and it makes me regret my near future of sneezing and watery eyes.

The lady comes back a moment later with a frayed white mug that’s steaming tantalizingly. I honestly want to say no to it, but I shiver a second later and more water drips from my body, so she puts it down at the table beside me.

“It’s decaf. I think we have some blankets in the back,” she says after I grab the mug thankfully. I don’t even take a sip at first because I want to feel the heat spread through my hands.

“Oh god no, I’m already taking advantage of your hospitality,” I say, but she waves her hand, and walks behind the counter, and then through the hanging door that leads to the other side of the restaurant.

The man on the other side is eyeing me curiously. He doesn’t look exactly unfriendly, but I don’t like being examined like that. I check the clock above the cash register to see that it’s nearly one in the morning. How did it get to be so late?

I like this woman, she’s nice. She comes back a minute later with a folded mass of grey fabric, that I assume is some sort of blanket.

I don’t protest when she hands it to me even though I feel a little guilty. It’s kind of weird, when you hang out with asshats a lot, to remember that some people are nice. I’m not saying Gerard or Mikey are asshats, but I really like people who are just honestly good people.

“Thank you,” I say and I give her a smile, but I’m trembling so it turns to more of a grimace, “you know you don’t need to be this nice, I’m just, I don’t even know.”

“You looked like you could use some help dear, I’m just doing my best. Do you have someone you can call? I’ll let you use my phone,” she asks.

“No, unfortunately. The only person who I could call wouldn’t want to hear from me.”

“Oh, don’t say that. You should call whoever you need to come and get you. If you don’t have any money there’s not much you can do from here. Just call them.”

“We had a bit of a falling out. Doesn’t want to hear from me, trust me. Doesn’t even love me. Never did,” I say sadly. The words hurt me to say, because they’re true. I never thought I’d be able to say that I didn’t want to talk to Gerard. He’s the one I want to talk to the most.

“Give her a call, I’m sure she’ll come ‘round,” the woman tells me, “And you need help. No one could turn down that face of yours.”

I frown, and don’t bother to correct the waitress for assuming. The last time I let that slip didn’t have the happiest of endings.

“No, I left the house because, you know, said I didn’t mean anything. Never loved me. Just felt guilty for all the crap that’s happened. Sucks though. Took a bullet to keep ‘em breathing.”

“Aw dearie,” the waitress frowns, “you really took a bullet for her?”

“Yeah. I’ve never loved someone so much. It was so good as well! We were so good, until we just blew up at each other. This morning, even! This morning we were just as happy as two people could be. Or at least I was. I mean I woke up, and everything was perfect, and then boom,” I say. I feel like such an idiot, spewing about Gerard to this lady. She doesn’t care, I’m sure. I just want to think about him.

I honestly thought we were happy. I really did. I thought he loved me. I thought he was maybe even the one. I want him so much that it hurts.

“Dear, you should call her. You should apologize,” she says.

“I didn’t do anything wrong! I don’t think either of us did really, we just sort of got mad at the choices we’ve both made. Like I should’ve left, and I didn’t. ‘Cause, you know, I was in love. Still am. I couldn’t just leave when I was in love. I knew it was dangerous to stay, but I just... I’ve never been in love before.”

“Well you should apologize anyway. Sometimes we have to suck in our pride and just do things we don’t want to do. Take it from me, all women like being apologized to.”

I snort, “Yeah, well that may not do me much good.”

“Do you need anything? Another blanket? More tea? I’ll get you my phone, dear,” she says and she stands up to go grab it.

“No, please, you don’t need to do that. I’ve already taken a free drink, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m, ugh, I don’t want to call! I’m scared.”

“You’ll do fine,” she says and she comes back to me with her phone. She holds it out to me expectantly and I don’t take it immediately.

She frowns and tries again, “Come on, please? I don’t want to see you looking so miserable. You need someone who’s going to care for you. There’s only so much I can do.”

“Ugh, I’ll think about it,” I say. The waitress smiles and grabs the seat from the table that’s next to the booth I’m habituating. She then sets the phone on the table next to me, where I stare at it for a long moment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“I really don’t,” I say honestly.

“That’s fine. Just take your time thinking about it. I really think you should call someone though, dear.”

“I, fine. Sure, I’ll just suck in my pride I guess,” I say.

She nods, looking happy with my decision. I’m not too sure myself, but I know I can’t just mooch here forever. I’ve got to call someone or else I don’t have anywhere to go. I just really don’t want to call Gerard.

I pick up the phone and feel the weight of it in my hands. I don’t want to call him, but at the same time I really do.

“Do you want me to call for you?” she asks, sympathetically.

“No, I should do this myself. Can I do this privately?” I say.

“Sure sure,” she says, “but you’re not going outside in this weather.”

“But...”

“I know it’s not ideal, but you can use our freezer. It’s cold in there, but take your blanket and try not to talk for too long so you don’t get too cold.”

“Fine, yeah, thank you so much for being nice,” I say.

“Anytime dear,” she says and she waits for me to stand up then guides me to the back of the diner where there’s a small metal door.

“There’s no lock on either side of the door so I’ll just leave you to it, okay? You can talk for as long as you need to, but be careful that you don’t freeze in there, okay?”

I check the door to confirm that she’s telling the truth, though I didn’t really think she’d lie. Part of me really just doesn’t want to get locked in a freezer. Well, most of me.

I nod, and frown grimly, then step into the small cold room.

I remember his number of course. The day he gave it to me I looked down at the phone for hours just memorizing the digits. Over and over in my head I looked at those numbers and I thought about the person they belonged to.

Man, it is cold in here. There are boxes of food all around me, and I know that I have to do this quickly, but I just can’t find the courage to dial the number. I can’t put the numbers in, but I want. I also really don’t want to.

“Fuck. I can’t call him,” I frown and then my head falls back on the door. I just can’t call Gerard.

I’m angry at him, and in love with him, and I miss him. I just have so many feelings that are flooding all through me that they’re distorting my options. I really only have that one option. Gerard.

I then realize that there is another option. Mikey. I’m not sure it’s much better, but at least it won’t be Gerard. At least I don’t have to talk to Gerard. What if he’s mad at me too, because of Gerard’s and I’s argument?

I remember that number as well. I don’t know why I do, but I’m glad that it’s still engraved somewhere in my brain.

I press the numbers slowly, one at a time, and then look down at the screen for an even longer amount of time, trying to bring my thumb down to the green ‘call’ button.

I can’t call Mikey, but I have to. Fuck, I just have to call and it’ll suck, but it’s the only option left. I put myself into this mess, and it’s time to own up to it.

Sometimes we all need a little help.

I take a deep breath and press the button, then bring the phone up to my ear. It rings once, twice, three times. He picks up during the middle of the third ring.

I inhale loudly and say, “Mikey, hey.”