Work Text:
If Simone was difficult to wrangle around sober, she was near impossible to do so high and drunk. In the passenger seat of Susie’s little tin can of a car, she sat wiggling around like an excitable cat in a kennel.
“Susie!” she said way too loudly, a crazy smile and bloodshot eyes with blown out pupils visible in the glow from the dashboard. “Susie dooby doo, we got a mystery to solve!”
Even as an imaginative, hyperactive, easily distractible, hard headed, soft hearted, emotionally intelligent, impulsively stupid, philosophical-beyond-his-years and immature-beyond-belief six year old boy, Susie knew that before anything else, Calvin was honest to his core. He lived in a world of his own imagination most of the day, flying dinosaurs that he’d visit in a time machine with a tiger for a friend, before fighting space battles with evil aliens that would inevitably result in him being imprisoned for the crime of being a freedom fighter (detention for two weeks for defacement of school property), and then cap it off with some of the most horrifyingly gross descriptions of his lunch that was identical to her own.
But he was never anything other than himself, his true self. And she liked that, because there was never any doubt when he declared increasingly ridiculous things with a wide grin and wild eyes with each year he got older that he did it for any other reason than he loved to stir the pot.
She ended up growing into her own as an equally rowdy, just as adventurous and just as imaginative teenage girl. Her hair, shockingly blond as a child, had settled into a dirty blond mop down to her mid back just as wild as when she had pelted her with snowballs from behind trees in elementary school. And when it came time to pick a name, she’d stuck with the convention of the namesake of a philosopher, choosing the one who had declared that a woman was not born, but made over her lifetime.
“You’re the brains, Suze! My Velma!” she went on. “I guess that makes me Daphne, or whatever. So let me drive for a bit, and you can do all the thinkin’, ‘cause I’m trying my best and it’s not going anywhere.”
Simone rubbed her temples in obvious strain, like she was thinking through honey.
“Not happening,” she replied, gritting her teeth as she maneuvered through the late night traffic in the direction of her home. Night driving stressed her out, even with the drive home being the first route she learned. “Dumb bitches don’t get behind the wheel,” she added, her frustration with tonight's events spilling over into her words. She wasn’t having a panic attack, the events that would have led to that having been dealt with, but the remnants of that stress still beat rough through her chest.
“~That’s not very nice!~” Simone said in a sing-song voice. “~Mr Bun won’t be very happy when I tell him you’re using bad words!~”
Susie swallowed, taking a deep breath and centering herself in the moment as best as she could with the pause of a red light. “I shouldn't have said that. I’m sorry,” she said, her hands shaking on the wheel, on two and ten, just like her dad taught her. She caught the reflection of her eyes in the rearview mirror, her short bob frazzled around a gaze that looked like she was on the verge of tears.
“I am not the one you should be apologizing to, dummy,” giggled Simone. “You gotta promise you’ll say it to him when we get to your house.”
With Simone the way that she was, there was no way in hell she was going back to her parents. Susie’s were out for the weekend, so the plan in her head was make it back to her place in one piece, drag Simone inside, wipe off her messy makeup, have her rinse herself off with cold water in the shower, lend her some clothes, have her take her meds and drink lots of water, and maybe watch a movie to keep her happy before making her go to sleep on the couch. In the morning, she’d be sober, and probably amnesiatic to her past escapade and Susie could then fill her in on how, in her white girl wasted state, she’d ended up saving her from getting taken advantage of in the dumbest way possible.
Easy peasy.
“Say it!” she yowled happily, snapping Susie out of her ruminating just as the light turned green. “Say you’ll promise to say sorry!”
“What?”
“The bunny! The bunny, Susie woozy!” she said, again, too loudly. “Say you’ll say sorry to Mr Bun!”
Just one more right, and this nightmare will be over.
“I promise I’ll say sorry to Mr Bun when we get to my house, alright? Just-” she raised a hand before drawing her lips to a line, clenching and unclenching her fist, and putting it back at ten, “-calm down, please? It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”
That last part was for herself. If there was one thing she was grateful for, it was that Simone, while not a chronic user or a heavy drinker in the least, was mentally strong enough to not let her inebriation get to her. Susie couldn’t imagine also having to deal with her needing someone to keep her from freaking out in addition to everything that she needed to get done.
Simone beamed, and babbled something she couldn't make out. Her layered and overgrown bangs and locks flared around her face as she brought up her skate-worn SB Dunk Highs to the dashboard and hugged her legs together, before turning to face Susie, whose eyes were locked onto the road.
“Susieeeee,” she pleaded gleefully, her childlike self returning as she quieted down a bit to increase her chances at getting what she wanted. “Can we have tacos? Pleaaaase? Tacoooos?”
“We have corn dogs in the freezer,” Susie sighed. It’d be good for Simone to get some food in her, anyway.
Relief filled her as she finally pulled into the driveway, her shoulders slumping as soon she set the car in park and turned off the ignition. Pulling out her phone, she quickly sent a text to Simone’s mom.
Hey Mrs. Watter! Sorry for the late night text, but Simone’s phone died after the homecoming game right after telling you we were going to Candice’s house party. We left a while ago and are at my house since it wasn’t very good, and we are now gonna watch the super gross Cronenberg marathon that she’s been pestering me about for awhile now. It’s okay if she stays the night, right?
“She’s totally not completely off her rocker,” she muttered under her breath. When the three bubbles appeared, her heart clenched, realizing what she was actually asking for. What if she said no? What if she had to bring Simone to her parents house?
Her phone buzzed when she received her response.
Susie! As long as she has her meds with her, and it’s okay with your parents, she’s welcome to stay over if you’re going to be up all night watching those atrocities anyway. I hope you both had fun tonight, and made responsible decisions, and continue to make safe ones tonight :)
Her face instantly went red, her mind reaching at the implications between the lines that probably weren’t there.
“Susie, I need help with the seatbelt, it’s fighting me,” said Simone, her fingers tugging at the belt without even trying to unclasp it.
Thanks Mrs Watters! Have a good night!
She turned off her phone and stuffed it into her purse, before reaching over to push the button, and help her out of the car, grabbing Simone’s little black leather backpack before closing the door, and guiding her to the front door.
Susie was twelve when she began to see that something was turning in Calvin.
In the classes she had with him, the interruptions and hijinks that were so quintessential to her experience in elementary school disappeared, and his hand would now never be raised. He’d answer when called upon, but never more than what was needed.
In the beginning, she saw it as his maturation finally coming into him. A nice young man was being made out of him, for the first time in his life. He became so quiet it took her a few weeks to notice the black hoodie he had taken to wearing. Even in gym class, even when it got hot for even a thick shortsleeve, he’d simply refuse to be without it. In time, the hood never left his head, and his eyes would not rise above the floor.
So he was goth now.
Or emo or punk or whatever. She didn’t really care.
He’d always been bullied, always isolated, always friendless besides her, but his spirits were never low, not really. He had always worn a smile, wide and wild with a plan to spice up the day, drawing endlessly fun comics about dinosaurs and aliens and detectives and even one about a monster under the bed that he would talk to every night in a game of chicken. They’d played house occasionally, even if he hated being the dad. For everyone else at school, he was a nuisance they could finally be free of, but Susie took his route to the neighborhood they both shared and got off at the same bus stop. She’d spent years being subjected to his horrifying descriptions of the lunch his mother had packed for him, every morning dreading the inevitable confrontation and arguing that would follow before they went to school.
Now, there was none of that. He stood there, silent, hidden underneath the black fabric. When they both went home, he would walk quietly back home and not even spare a glance at her.
The peace and quiet was nice, until one day when she caught a flash of his face underneath his hood, and understood there was nothing peaceful about him. Hollow, sad eyes looking back at her own. A pallid face, with dark circles under the eyes.
His comic books, the ones he would carry on his person sometimes, disappeared as well, replaced with books even she, the bookworm, thought were dry choices. Truth be told, she loved fantasy, Ursula K. LeGuin most of all. Tales of faraway worlds and the strange, fantastical people who inhabited them. Not stuff like Phenomenology of Spirit, Simulacra and Simulation, The Stranger, The Ego And its Own, or Being and Nothingness. Books that made your head spin if you didn’t understand them, and would give you vertigo if you did.
She saw him in the lunchroom, reading them religiously in between bites, again, alone and hunched over.
And one day she had had enough. She’d gone home and before doing her homework, had pulled out a piece of paper, and began writing a card, like when she’d messed with him in elementary school on Valentine’s Day. She drew some bunnies and a tiger, even if she was significantly worse than what Calvin could do, having seen how much he had improved in the passing years. For the finishing touch, she took some of her hard earned and well saved Halloween candy from her reserve, and placed the best ones in a little party favor bag.
She’d told her mom she was going outside to play, and hurried over quickly to his house and knocked on the door, her stomach flip flopping inside her.
His mom had answered, her own face more lined and worried than she had ever remembered in the second before she saw it was only little Susie Derkins from down the street, and the niceties took over.
She’d thanked her for the card, and had forced a smile when Susie told her she wanted to give it to him because he didn’t look happy at school, and she wanted to let him know that she noticed and that she cared.
“That’s very sweet of you, Susie,” his mom had said. “I’ll give it to him when he comes back from the woods. He’s, um,-”
For the first time in her life she saw an adult, one that could be trusted wholeheartedly, falter.
“I could give it to him now, if it’s all the same,” she answered quickly, taking the card back. “I know where he usually goes.”
His mother’s face fell, even as she tried to contain it.
“Susie, you’re such a considerate young lady, but Calvin has not been… himself lately. I’d really hate for you to get caught in the crossfire of what he’s going through. Really, you just reaching out-”
“He’s hardheaded, I know,” she said firmly. “And kind of a butt. In any case, he’s still someone I know who doesn’t look happy, and that’s all I need.”
With her own mother’s voice chastising her in her own mind for her rudeness to an adult, Susie thanked her for her time, said her goodbyes, and promised to tell her mother that Mrs. Watter said hello. When the door closed, she took off running in the direction of the woods, clutching the sliver of paper in her hand, now worried sick.
Before they had left together that evening, Susie had convinced Simone to let her do her makeup. She wasn’t the best at it, but doing it on someone else had always felt easier. Simone usually wore smudged eyeliner and dark shadow, if she did at all, since from her own admission, even if her mom was supportive and always had been, she’d still never taught her how to do her own.
Now, as she sat on the bathroom floor with Susie kneeling above her lap, her mane of hair and unruly bangs pushed away from her face, Susie saw what remained of her handiwork smudged and ruined from the night that they had before she could even begin to wipe.
Getting Simone’s shoes off had been its own ordeal, and the stairs might as well have been Everest with how her heartbeat rammed in her chest helping her up. For now, it was nice to be able to check off something on the list that involved her sitting down.
“Are you doing okay?” she asked gently, removing a layer from her temple.
“Mmm,” Simone hummed, eyes fluttering closed as her lips formed a contented smile. “Feel warm. World is woozy. My brain feels like it's getting a massage.”
She rubbed down her cheek, and just before getting started on the shimmering eyeshadow that had she had taken so long on getting right before it would be inevitably covered by her bangs for the rest of the night, Simone’s eyes fluttered open, and she stopped.
No longer in a dimly lit car out at night, or in a mood-lit house party glowing with LEDs, she could see them in detail, her fiery hazel eyes softly half lidded with blown out pupils. The tip of her nose was still shining with the highlighter she loved to see on her, and her eyelashes—delineated with sharp liner and teased with black mascara—only served to make them pop out even further than she had thought possible. Her lips were still red with the liquid lipstick she had to apply while forcing herself to breathe steadily, trying to stamp down the images in her head when the tip of Simone’s tongue stuck out just a bit as she did so.
“Susie,” she murmured. Her voice, the one she had helped her train to the endearing timbre it was now, feathered her heart with its peacefulness, eliciting a shiver.
She swallowed her dry throat.
“Y-yes?”
“We’re going to have the corn dogs you promised, right?” she said, her lips parting into an innocent plea.
She froze, and saw that Simone was waiting for an answer.
“Yeah,” she breathed out, her hand shaking as she returned to gently wiping down her eye makeup. “Of course. Corn dogs.”
With her eyes closed, Simone hummed again. “That’s crazy, dude.”
She didn’t speak again or even open her eyes until she was clean of makeup from the top of her forehead to the bottom of her neck. She leaned back onto her haunches and studied her finished work.
Pretty with it, pretty without it.
Catching herself looking for too long, Susie ducked her eyes away, and tried to get up from her squat too quickly, before she realized too late that her legs had fallen asleep.
With a thunk, she flopped onto her butt, across from her best friend who’s eyes opened up to see her.
“Are you done?” Simone giggled.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Now you just have to shower, and take your meds, and we can go eat and watch a movie. Almost done with the list.”
Simone frowned, and looked up at her with a bit of apprehension.
“My brain feels too wonky to watch Schindler’s List,” she said, looking scared for the first time that night.
“Huh? What, no!” she giggled, sitting up straight. “I said we’re almost done with the list,” Susie said, feeling bad for laughing.
“Oooooooh!” Simone said, her face relaxing, before she looked at her in confusion. “What list?”
“It’s fine,” she said. “Just what we need to get done before you can go to bed.”
She got up on wobbly legs, and reached out her hands to help Simone get up.
“Okay,” she said, walking to the shower and turning on the dial until she got a temperature that was almost warm. Too cold, and Simone might freak out. Too hot and she’d zone out on wobbly legs and maybe hit her head. “I’m gonna find some clothes for you and me, and while I’m gone, you just get undressed and in the shower. Just keep it simple and get wet, no soap, okay? Don’t want you to get slippery when you don’t have all of your senses.”
She turned to face her, and saw that she was struggling with her shirt, her face enraptured in the difficulty of taking her arm out of the sleeves of her band tee while not having taken off her oversized hoodie.
Of course, she thought. Her cheeks burned at exactly what she was going to end up doing.
“Alright, get over here silly goose,” she muttered, eyes to the floor. Standing a few inches taller than her, Simone scooted closer to her, arm still sticking out a weird angle.
Blushing furiously, Susie quickly helped her out of her hoodie, leaving her in a tight, ripped up band tee for some psychedelic blues garage rock/metal whateverthefuck band she wouldn’t ever shut up about—King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, which, admittedly, is a pretty awesome name for a band. Quick breath in, and she grabbed it by the hem and pulled it off of her quickly, Simone’s hair floofing out as she did. Turning away fast, she set Simone’s clothes down near the towel rack.
In just a red t-shirt bra and dark navy cargo pants that hugged her hips so well, Simone hummed as she undid the clasp at the top, sliding them over her bottom.
Turning away as fast as she could and leaving the bathroom, the image of her black boyshorts still burned itself in Susie’s head as she walked down the hallway and into her room, distracting herself by immediately going into her closet, and digging around for whatever clothes she could find that she could lend her best friend whom she did not have feelings for at all.
She threw on some sweat shorts and a baggy tee shirt after getting out of her outfit, came up with some black shorts and a scoop neck tee that’d probably fit her lankier frame, and hurried back to the bathroom, nervous over her safety being left alone.
She heard humming as she entered the bathroom, softened by the sound of running water.
Okay, almost done.
She was exhausted and simply had had enough with today, and finally taking the moment to cleanse her own face was a welcome respite. For all her ability to rationalize away her anxieties day to day, the lavender moisturizer she smoothed on her face afterwards was enough for just that one moment—so much so, she closed her eyes in temporary bliss.
And was promptly bombarded with a smattering of images that made her blush. Simone’s crossfaded smile, her chest in a bra she had helped pick out because no matter how much time had passed on HRT, Simone was still nervous going clothes shopping alone. The way her hips had come in and she had filled out, and what she looked like clad only in boyshorts.
Her eyes flew open and she gripped the sink countertop with fingers still slick from moisturizer, staring right into the mirror with a desperate look in her eye.
You do NOT like your best friend, you will NOT ruin a friendship with someone who probably doesn’t feel the same, you will NOT let anything slip while she’s vulnerable because of a temporary lapse in your OWN judgment, you WILL take care of her tonight and you WILL make sure she-
The water stopped running.
“I, uhm, need a towel. Please.”
She must be only getting higher, her voice now hushed like she was in a theater. Susie turned to the towel rack and got two, looking away as she handed them to her through the curtain. She busied herself with getting Simone her comfy clothes and underwear, and putting them on top of the shower curtain for her to reach when she was done drying.
She needed her meds, and then Susie could actually relax. Maybe some hair care too. For as freely grown and wild as it looked, Simone was near obsessive about it, terrified of losing something that she held so dear to what she was.
Grabbing her little backpack, Susie rummaged around, looking for her med container—a small old allergy bottle—and a little bottle of lube, finding it tucked away in a little internal pocket. She blushed a bit, remembering the conversation two years ago when she went on progesterone, and explained how the most effective way to take it wasn’t by mouth.
The shower curtain opened up, and a very nervous looking Simone walked out, her eyes bleary, hair wet, but mostly dry and clothed. She looked more scared than she had looked all night, nervously shuffling, but not crossing the threshold into the bathroom proper.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
She nodded. “Just… a lot is happening around me. The floor-” she looked down and her eyes went wide, “-it’s breathing and my stomach doesn’t feel so good.” Her voice was so quiet, each word seeming to be an effort to get out.
Her body was trembling now, and she seemed just generally uncomfortable.
"My body feels like it's rubbery and I'm getting colder," she added.
Susie walked closer and held out her hand. “One more thing, and we can go watch a movie, okay dear?”
She took hers gingerly and stepped out of the shower, and Susie got a good look at her to make sure she didn’t have any bumps. The shorts were a lot shorter on her than she’d thought they’d be—exposing her long, smooth legs—and the shirt was a crop top for her, hanging off one shoulder. Her hair, wet and long, hung from her head and framed her like an angel, even in the state she was now.
Some days, Susie didn’t understand why Simone got so dysphoric, so self-critical and spiraling at her body. Intellectually she understood completely, but an irrational frustration that she couldn’t see herself the way she did—didn’t know the way she did about how stunning she looked—ate away at Susie. She’d transformed herself so much in the years since she’d first come out, unrecognizable if you didn’t know who she was before. Even then, a lot of people who did wouldn’t believe you if you told them.
She talked to her softly, doing her best not to spook her like a lost doe. “Are you okay taking your meds by yourself?”
She nodded, eyes flitting about. Her sharp, expressive features were quickly being overcome with an anxiety that she was only barely keeping at bay. Susie’s heart broke seeing her scared and overwhelmed, and a fury she had to tamp down brewed in the back of her mind at the monstrous jackass that was the cause for all of this. For now, Simone was all that mattered.
Like always, she thought to herself. She’s always been the only thing that mattered.
“Are you okay being alone for a little bit?”
She nodded again, and this time the urge to show her everything was okay broke her down, and she closed the distance, hugging Simone as she trembled.
She smelled so good, and the feel of her skin, hot from the high and briefly tempered by the water, was intoxicating.
Susie pulled away. “I’ll be back in two minutes. Take your meds and wait for me to come back, okay? I’ll help you walk down the stairs and it will all be over.”
Simone smiled tentatively, and squeezed her hand.
She found Calvin by the edge of the creek he played at for most of his life. His pet tiger was sitting opposite of a tree stump, and he was reading a thin book, still wrapped in his hoodie. His hood was down, and his face shone in the sun, spiky bright blond hair catching its light filtering through the canopy. It was still early in the school year, just before late summer said goodbye for good.
“C-Calvin?” she ventured, suddenly losing all the bravado that she’d had facing his mom.
He jumped and pulled his hood over him. Getting up, he turned to face her, and what she could see below was someone who looked like they didn’t want to be bothered.
“What.”
“I-uhm. I brought this for you,” she answered, holding up the bag of party favors and the card. “You haven’t been looking like yourself lately, and I wanted to-”
His eyes unnerved her. Rather than being mournful like when she’d catch his gaze, they were now just empty. Empty and tired and primed, like an animal left in a cage for too long being let out for the first time into a concrete enclosure with no enrichment as its final home.
“-Wanted to just tell you I’m here for you, if you need anything,” she stammered out.
He walked over to her, and took the card and bag. Setting down the bag, he read the card in front of her.
It was an eternity for her, waiting for him to finish. His eyes flickered a bit, losing some of the edge they had as he closed it, and looked back at her.
“Thank you,” quietly said Calvin. “I didn’t think… whatever.”
He put the card in his hoodie pocket, and pulled out the book he was reading. She saw the title now. The Myth of Sisyphus, by Albert Camus.
Susie suddenly realized she had no idea what she was doing there still. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. She wanted him to not feel alone, right?
“Do you mind if I stay with you?” she asked. “Just hang out?”
He looked back at her, and shrugged. “Sure.”
She took a seat opposite him, next to Hobbes, worn from the years of wear but still bright and bushy tailed as ever.
It was nice out. And even though Calvin didn’t lower his hoodie this time, she could see him sit up a little straighter while reading. The spine of the book was lined, and the cover itself tattered.
“What’s it about?”
He looked up. “Hm?”
“I know the story of Sisyphus, and the other Greek myths. Why Sisyphus?”
“It’s an essay, from this guy-” he said, showing the cover, “-Albert Camus. French Algerian philosopher. It’s one in a trilogy he called the Cycle of the Absurd. A novel, an essay, and a play.”
Susie tilted her head a bit.
“That’s… what it is, but you haven’t told me what it’s about.”
Calvin smiled, a small one that echoed the sarcastic grin she had seen emblazoned on his face in his youth. “You should read more philosophy. You’d be a good fit for it, like most things you do anyway. Very well,” he said, setting the book down. “I’d say with most things in philosophy, ‘what’s it about?’ is one of the most recurring questions, along with ‘why are you wasting your time on this?’ or its more polite variant, ‘why does any of this matter?’
“Camus was French-Algerian, and spent most of his life in France, meaning he suffered from a genetic disorder common among the native inhabitants known as ‘ennui’, otherwise known as Terminal Insufferability Syndrome, if you’re a foreigner.”
Susie rolled her eyes, and groaned, even if in the moment after she saw that grin of his get wider and his tired eyes catch the light with how wide they were, she felt her spirits lift with his. In his ramping excitement, his hoodie had fallen back, and his hair was out. It had gotten longer than she had ever seen it before, and it shined in a way that showed that he cared for it.
Huh.
“No disrespect for your Professor, young lady!” he declared, pushing up invisible glasses. “Or I’ll have security-” he said pointing to Hobbes, “-throw you out immediately! I do not tolerate insolence in my classroom!”
“Just get on with it, Calvin.” She leaned back on the palms of her hands.
“As I was saying! Camus was a man influenced by the thinkers of his time and those from the past, but in this essay he most shows the influences of Nietzche, Kierkegaard, and a man whom his own mother once declared that ‘if you were any less like you, you would only be ridiculous, but thus as you are, you are highly annoying.’”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the third guy was you,” Susie mused, wrinkling her nose playfully.
“His name was Schopenhauer, and he was a son of a bitch! Anyway,” he continued, as if Susie was being unreasonable and he was the sensible one, “Camus was most interested in the question of our human desire for meaning and structure, and whether that meaning or structure was even attainable or could even exist within the world that humanity inhabits. He observed a dichotomy that the human endured in it’s conscious state, where we are at once pitted with a desire for ideals, finality, meaning, and importance, and forced to contend with an infinite universe that is simply indifferent to the endeavors of man to bring to fruition those ideals and meaning. We exist in chaos, surrounded by chaos, and bogged down by the cruelty of passionate men, the machinations and systems of oppression and suffering for the sake of ideology, and an infinitely vast and silent universe of wonders. A star died to make you, and you are chained by the arbitrary constructs and systems that will punish you for questioning their validity. You have consciousness to look upon the silent, terrible universe, and contemplate its vastness, the consciousness to look upon the wonders of the natural world and the incredible depth of humanity and its cultural gifts, but in the end, you were from the earth and will be returned to it.
“Thus, he framed the struggle against the absurdity of existence, the very conflict of our desires for a neat and orderly answer for the nature of human existence and meaning against a universe that simply existed, wild and without guidance, within the story of Sisyphus. Every day he is forced to climb a hill, pushing a boulder that upon almost reaching the summit, will grind down his sinew and run him over with its mass. Every evening, he will be faced with the failure of his ability to complete a task that will grant him his freedom from this horror. Every morning he will be forced to begin again.”
“That’s... That’s fucked up,” she breathed out. Again, in her mind, her mother tugged at her ears in frustration over her use of obscenities.
Calvin grinned, wide and enthusiastic just like he used to.
“Albert would have said that the most fucked up part wasn’t what he endured, but what he realized months, years, or decades later after his punishment. Sisyphus could endure his punishment so long as each night, he could have the hope of perhaps one day succeeding in rolling the boulder over the hill, freeing him from his torment. Once he realized that his punishment was that he would never be able to do so, he would become aware of the terrible position he really was in. One where there would be no escape from his punishment, no matter his efforts, where his desire to be free of his fate would be pitted against the grueling, impersonal violence of his inevitable failure. That’s the really fucked up part.
“He argues that for humanity, we will be faced with that absurdity of our innate need for meaning throughout our lives, and that when the curtain falls away in between of our toil for that meaning, we will spiral out of control, desperately grasping for anything that can take away the understanding over that inconvenient realization. The world, humanity and the universe are not inherently absurd, he argues, but our relationship with the world, humanity and the universe are. It’s a frustration that often compels us to build constructs and beliefs that bridge that gap between us and our predicament, and one that has only three real paths of action, according to Camus.”
Susie’s head was spinning as Calvin became lost in his infodump. His description of the toil and anguish, the real spite and passion that rang through every word, was unquestionable.
She had no doubt in her head that perhaps Calvin had a case of TIS as well.
“Wh-why would you read that?” she asked.
He beamed. “What are those three solutions, you asked?”
“I- What? I didn’t ask-”
“Albie concerned himself with the first solution as the most important decision a person can make,” he ranted on, bulldozing through her opposition, “which was killing yourself. Without a conscious self, there is no absurd, because the absurd requires the conscious self to work as a contradiction. This is not recommended because it is a messy solution to an already messy problem. Spilling canned tuna and mayonnaise on the sheets doesn’t distract from the dirty floor, as my mom always says.”
His face twinged a bit as he mentioned Mrs Watter, but he kept on, his eyes now desperate as all signs of exhaustion left him.
Something was wrong with him, Susie realized. Something he refused to talk about if he couldn’t deflect it with something else, or couldn’t frame it through a snarky retelling of a book about someone else.
“The second was embracing a leap of faith, as described by a Danish man who had a habit of pouring an unreasonable amount of sugar into his coffee. Find Jesus, or whoever else tickles your nips, and embrace the faith and ride out the storm of meaninglessness in a dingy with a holy book towed by a ship you couldn’t see. Similarly, in the Nietczhian vein, one could take charge of his situation and in the place of shattered, impotent, and flaccid ideals, erect hard, stiff, throbbing new ones to penetrate the unfairness of existence, and overcome the trappings of materialism through rock hard idealism—embracing the warm feeling and hard earned satisfaction of-”
Susie cut him off by gagging loudly, which, just like old times, only made his glee more palpable.
“But of course, that solution was, in the words of a man who looked as hot as this-” he added, showing her a picture of an admittedly handsome man smoking a cigarette on the inside flap, “-was ‘Philosophical Suicide’. You can’t discover a problem you can’t escape, and then hide out in a little house of your own creation because you are too much of a little bitch to go outside and see how far that white rabbit goes. The solution he proposed was embracing the contradiction in full, confronting the absurd every day and reveling in the meaninglessness. Sisyphus must embrace his eternal task in all of its horrible absurdity, and be content with never escaping it. And just like Sisyphus, we must imagine ourselves happy. It’s not a permanent solution, in fact, it’s barely a solution at all. In your embrace, between the monotony and demands of life, you will find yourself slipping out of the slipstream of awareness over just how fucked you are, knowing each day pushes you further to a death as permanent as it is inevitable, how fucked it is that wanton cruelty and brutality is often perpetuated by human hands, and how much a desire for a life or even any form expression or art outside of the constructs and systems that are in place now are met with ridicule, even if those very constructs and systems are constantly in flux. And just like Sisyphus,” he said, his eyes red, “you’ll do it again, again and again. You have to embrace the absurdity of your situation.”
He was breathing hard, and before she knew it, he was crying. Hot, passionate tears streaming down his face as he got up and paced, seemingly possessed by something that he had been hiding for so very long being pulled out of him.
“Because you’re fucked!” he cried out. “Because you are so, so fucked, and the things you want don’t matter, because the dice rolled a certain way and you have no way to explain something that sounds fuckin’ delusional if you also didn’t live with the utter frustration and tension that you aren’t what you were supposed to be. That- that there’s this pit of anger and pain inside of you that could have been solved if- if you were just born different, if you weren’t such a fucking freak that was destined to be a tortured wreck. That, that, that-”
He gripped his hood and brought it over his head fast, and kept pulling it tight, his knuckles white and trembling as he fell to his knees and started to tremble, and sob.
In a rush, Susie grabbed Hobbes, got up and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. His words were babbles, incomprehensible as he hugged her back tightly. She realized she was crying too.
“You’re not a freak,” she tried to say, through her own sobs. “You’re a lot of things, Calvin but you are not a freak. You were never a freak.”
She repeated it like a mantra until, after what felt like an eternity of outpouring molten emotions, he had calmed down enough to speak again, hiccuping through his words as he clutched Hobbes and cried in Susie’s arms.
“Calvin-” she said, not really knowing where she was going with her words, “-I saw you bury the baby raccoon.”
He looked up at her, shock for a moment cutting through his breakdown.
“You saw-”
“I did,” she reiterated firmly. “I saw you and Hobbes by the woods in front of where they still are today. I remember the next two weeks of class before your grief was something you could have with you. You- You wore a big hoodie, and your eyes looked empty and there was no laughter, or comic books, or gross lunches, or aliens and you never talked to me at the bus stop. You cared,” she said, more tears falling as she wiped them away and kept on talking, “so much for something so small, who lived for so little time, in so much pain. You cared because that’s the kind of person you are. And if that kind of a person is a freak, if that kind of person is destined for misery, then I don’t care for any other type of friend, no matter what you think might make me think otherwise.”
He looked at her, meeting her eyes with just the smallest sliver of hope. He looked away, and pulled his hoodie over him again.
“I want to be a girl,” he said, so softly, she swore she must’ve misheard.
Carefully, she took the edge of their hoodie in between her fingers, and pulled it back, trying her best not to spook them. They didn’t pull it back down, but still refused to meet her eyes.
“Calvin?”
“You remember in health class that little bit on the last day about gays, bisexuals, lesbians and transgender people? I’m one of them, the last one. Maybe the second one too, I don’t know for sure, but I know I’m trans. I’ve known for a long time, I just never had the words. Now, I know. I want to be a girl.”
There was relief in her words, wrapped in trepidation. Fear colored her tone, even with the show of trust she had in sharing something so vulnerable for her with Susie.
“I told my mom and dad,” she added, a whimper in her voice as she brought it up. “They believe me now, but they didn’t take it well. They’re trying, at least. I’m just so alone, and I don’t know how it's going to turn out, all I know is that I am hurting, and I am scared, and alone, and- and-”
Her hiccupy sobs came back and she couldn’t get the words out. She tried anyway.
“I’m-m scared of going back to school. I already get beat around and called a sissy and if I go on meds that turn me into a girl, there’ll be a lot of time between me coming out and me being on it, and I’ll have to practice my girl voice, and go to gym class and- and-”
She brought her hoodie back down, an instinct primed into her after who knows how long.
“What if it’s not worth it?” she whispered. “What if it’s all for nothing, and all I end up in the end is a-”
“Is there, uhm, a name you want me to use?” she interrupted.
Her breathing slowed down, as she thought, and she looked back up at her, eyes wide.
“I like Simone,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “It’s french, but the english version of it is fine. She was a philosopher, and she said that a woman isn’t born, but is made over her lifetime. I feel like I have some catching up to do, since that’s the case. Figures I should be named after an existentialist after being named after a theologian for so long.”
“That’s… huh,” she mused, a smile on her face as she did. “That’s a very… Simone answer to that question.”
She pulled back her hoodie, this time for the last time today, she hoped. Her hair was so soft under her fingers.
“I wouldn't worry too much about what you’re gonna look like, ‘cause you’re gonna be a very pretty girl when it’s all said and done. One must imagine Simone happy, you know? No matter how absurd her life gets.”
In Simone’s eyes, Susie could see the hope that her words inspired fight the fear and desperation inside of her. She knew at that moment that it would be that way for a while, and sometimes the fear would win. But always, Simone would try again.
“I won’t tell anyone anything,” Susie reassured her. “You’re nobody’s shame, but it’s your right to choose when and where you are open about who you are. And I’ll always have your back.”
Simone nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”
“Good,” said Susie, reaching for the bag filled with candy. “Now let’s eat.”
“Jim is such an egg,” she muttered through a mouthful. “Sad baby.”
“I can see it,” mused Susie, working in more coconut oil into the ends of her hair.
Watching Simone finish eating a corn dog high while Treasure Planet played for her was entertainment in itself. All wrapped up in her blanket, her riveting commentary interspersed between scenes was a joy.
With that last bit, Susie was done, and she gave her mane a misting of water and a soft tousle, causing her bangs to flop onto her forehead again.
Expectedly, her heart swelled seeing her return to form.
Always beautiful.
Captain Amelia appeared on screen, springing into action.
“She’s pretty,” she murmured, before taking a drink of water. “Pretty and super smart. Like you, Suze.”
She turned to smile at her with that same, spacey smile as she had all night.
“Well,” Susie replied, tamping down the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m almost certain that’s just the weed and the drinks talking.”
“No, no, no,” she giggled, hiccuping a bit at the end. “It’s just the truth. Pretty Susie. Smart Susie. Take your pick, because they’re both true.”
She squeezed her hand, her head shaking from side to side a bit in happiness.
“Oh, uhm,” she stammered, flushing deeply. “You’re pretty too. A lot. And smart!”
Susie looked away and grabbed an extra soft cotton t-shirt and motioned to Simone to take a bite. Wrapping her hair up, and tying the bottom up with a hair tie to keep the ends safe inside, Susie then made sure to tuck in any loose ends and adjust the neckhole of the shirt around her hairline so her baby hairs would be on the inside. Since she herself had never in her life had long hair, she didn’t have a head covering to protect it in her sleep, so she had to improvise for Simone. At the moment, after tying back the sleeves at the nape of her neck to secure it in place, she bore a striking resemblance to one of Simone’s favorite paintings, The Girl With The Pearl Earring—if that poor girl (learning about her actual life was an incredibly depressing read) was eating heavily processed meat wrapped in corn batter and deep fried in refined peanut oil.
She finished her corn dog and was about to put the little plate with two sticks on it on the coffee table, before her hand started trembling as it began to stretch out.
“Eep!” Susie exclaimed, rushing to catch it while Simone still held it, guiding her hand to place it safely in front of her.
“Thank you, Susie-sue,” giggled Simone. She’d never called her that, and for a moment, Susie had to blink away the fog as she remembered exactly where she had heard that name.
Years and years ago. A nickname that her mother had used for her as a small child. One she’d never talked about, that she associated with being safe, and small, still needing a parent to guide her from place to place.
“Your welcome, Simone,” she said kindly. Again, she couldn’t help herself, and she found herself scooting closer to hug her tightly. In her ear, she heard Simone’s soft babbles, addled in her current state, and felt her heart overflow.
Simone embraced her back, fumbling with the blanket to be around both of them, which Susie gladly helped. Her eyes looked sleepy, but her face showed only a wavy happiness as she pressed herself against her chest, tipping Susie back until she was lying down, the back of her head propped on the pillow by the armrest of the couch. Simone muttered more, her eyes still glued to the movie playing ahead of her.
Susie’s were fixed on only her, her emanating warmth on top of her, nestled into her body, which was suddenly alight with sensation. Two thin layers of cloth between each other separated their skin, and where there was nothing to block their mutual touch, she felt a different kind of release.
Every promise she made to herself on appropriate touch, on what she had to do to keep Simone safe as she rode out her inebriation battled her impulses for more, her selfish need for love and to shower her with adoration wordlessly and with touch. She wanted to show her all the ways she was lovely, all the ways she was perfect as herself, to see what she kept hidden within herself and see her be completely lost in her touch.
She planted a kiss on the top of her head, and forced herself to leave it at that, a twist in her heart as she let free a droplet from the ocean in her mind. A singular droplet of love lost in the moments after, the memory of its brilliance in Simone’s sunlight being enough for her.
It had to be enough, she thought, her eyes fluttering with sleepiness.
It simply had to be, because of what couldn’t.
She knew she was too far gone the second she saw Simone in full summer girlmode—a self identifying term she found hilarious since what constituted “boymode” was simply a cute girl in a big jacket who flushed when she kept getting gendered as a girl no matter what she did—for the first time.
In the end, Simone decided to enroll in a charter school a few months after she had come out to Susie. Even closested, even doing her best to avoid showing her increasingly longer hair, and her practiced softer voice, the bullying got to be too much. It was an hour on the bus one way daily, but she knew nobody there, and it was small enough that she could transition safely in peace. The day she turned fifteen, she took her first weekly shot of estrogen and daily dose of anti-androgens, with her first nightly dose of progesterone coming three months later on the dot.
One year later, she would transfer back to public high school for her sophomore year, under her chosen name, hiding under her jacket and hoodie while barely speaking, doing her best to fall into the background and avoiding ever showing any sign of who she used to be. Susie was the only person she ever spoke to outside of quick conversations in group projects without eye contact. Whispers about the new shy girl quickly died down as she faded from view.
A half year later, now about sixish months ago, she was almost completely unrecognizable, and for the first time, started wearing feminine clothes out and about. Never without a girly hoodie with the hood worn down, of course. Some things wouldn’t change for a while. But this time paired with shorter, punkier skirts, slim black leather boots, ripped tights and exposed t-shirts with tears in them that were dangerously close to being grounds for being dress coded. She laughed more, and Susie adored hearing it. Glimpses of an outgoing nature that had been condensed inside of her for so long began to rise out more and more with each passing day. One day, she saw it in full, a day where Simone for the first time, was the spirit of her younger self. Playful, intelligent, and a self advocate like no other. Snarky, but sweet, and with a razor sharp wit.
Simone had called her, and even with how quiet her voice was—nervous but equally excited—she could hear the joy in her either way. It was the beginning of last summer, school had just ended and they were both making plans on hanging out with each other when they could. Susie had been invited to go camping on a trip to a small island in a lake that Simone’s family had gone to for years now. She wanted help, for shopping like usual. Some things never got easier.
“I’ve been thinking about getting a real sundress. It’s-” Susie could hear her smile behind the phone, and it made her grin knowing she knew exactly what that looked like. “It’s kind of, like, one of the things I had been looking forward to most since I transitioned. Like a milestone.”
“We’ll go this weekend,” she replied quickly, writing it in her planner with one hand while she scrolled through her phone for inspo, imagining her best friend in the ones that caught her eye. “We’ll hit up some good places before buying stuff like bug spray and sunscreen.”
“Oh yeah, you’ll need extra bug spray,” said Simone. “It’s no joke once we’re there.”
“Cool.”
Her dreams were full of one image that night, framed by the sun near a lake.
The one they picked out for her that day, a twirly number with a snatched waist that made her look incredible, and the excitement she showed when she put it on was something truly special. She’d been taller than her for awhile, and in her day to day clothes, femme as they were, always were fashioned after alternative aesthetics. It was armor for her, a way to signify that she was alert, and outspoken. Her skate clothes fitted her extremely well, accentuating her features while being practical for the sport, while always sporting splashes of color on a darker palette.
But this was different. In the privacy of her room, showing off what she had helped pick out, she had an enviably soft and feminine glow to her. She was elegant, if slightly at a loss on how to carry herself in it, trying to find the softness in her posture and mannerisms that she didn’t have to do in the clothes she usually wore.
Seeing her laugh as she spun and twirled her dress, the way it clung to her elfin frame that only continued to fill out with each passing day, the way her giggles filled the room—right then and there she realized exactly what she was feeling and that it was not just platonic.
The hug goodbye that night was different, like dark chocolate as she realized what she really wanted to say, and what she knew would feel different if they were in love with each other. An unfulfilling sweetness marked by a distinct bitterness.
On the third night of their camping trip—the journey itself there was full of moments that only inflated her panic as she realized how intertwined her attraction was with how she saw her best friend—Simone decided to do another first.
Her first swim since she had come out to her parents. Something she had pointedly avoided doing because of what it revealed to her about her body. Something she wanted back.
The sun was setting and they were both alone by the beach of the island, Susie in a one piece paired with a swimming skirt, and Simone in her sundress, sitting primly with her chin on her knees on some boulders by the water. Her mother had started braiding her hair, another symbolic rite of passage for the young woman, and she wore it braided now, her bangs still framing her face.
With a deep breath, she got up, and began to take off her sundress, revealing a pair of black girl shorts underneath, and a swimming top. Her eyes nervously darted about to people that weren’t there, shrinking into herself slightly as she began to untangle the defenses in her mind so she could enjoy the water.
“Simone, look at me,” she had found herself saying. “It’s only me here. You’re going to be okay.”
With a deep breath, and a thankful expression, she carefully made her way down and got closer to the water, before plunking down.
In the light of the setting sun, her smile widened, and slowly, she began to wade further out, with Susie in tow.
They stayed out there, enjoying the water together until it was completely dark and had to make their way back by headlamp for s’mores. All throughout, Susie couldn’t shake the image of Simone’s body in her swimwear and in that dress from her mind, and the way her laughter echoed through a scenery that couldn’t live up to her own beauty.
In the fuzzy consciousness brought about by the early morning light streaming through the living room skylight, Suzie could only feel an enveloping peacefulness. A weight that fit into the curves and crooks of her body perfectly, rising and falling slowly on her chest in tandem with her own breathing only further deepened her hypnosis—warm like a space heater set to the perfect temperature.
In and out, she drifted between blissful sleep and dreamy, unfocused peace, eyes still closed but backlit by the morning light. With each time she came back into the land of the living, her eyes would open just a bit more, taking in the living room in its blurry essence with just a bit more clarity than the moment before. Her mind would follow suit, her thoughts becoming less formless and more distinct.
The first thing she registered was the silhouette over her body, the mischievous features relaxed in the throes of sleep. Hair wrapped up in cloth framing her face perfectly. Arms around her body as she lay on her, face pressed into her chest, legs intertwined with her own. A new word entered her lexicon, its definition altering in real time to someone in particular, the essence of its meaning filling into the shape of a person like clear water in a vase. For now, and forever more, it would never be able to mean anything other than her.
Darling.
Undeniably perfect to her, even if Simone could not see it herself. A bolt of lighting in a storm, brimming with vibrancy that exuded from her in her natural habitat, now a soft glow emanating from her at rest like embers cradled in a ring of smooth stones.
She studied her features like Simone would study the figures she would draw for practice, eyes freely focused into an open mind, tracing the line of her nose and the playful ridge around her eyes. Pangs of longing, of nervous energy and tamped down feelings born from stolen glances were a distant memory. Susie was as overwhelmed as ever, but now it felt less like a shock of hail and more like a cool, misting rain, enrapturing her soul in an embrace that revitalized the aura of the world around her with its clarity presented in the fog of half lucidity.
She stirred in her sleep, pressing herself deeper in her chest as her closed eyes furrowed, muttering something behind her soft lips. Susie felt her hand move instinctively, gently stroking her head until she stilled.
She let her free hand not occupied with soothing Simone fish for her phone on the coffee table to her right, pinching it by the corner before gripping it tight.
3% charge, four new texts, 11 in the morning. Her screensaver, both her and Simone all made up and dressed from yesterday, smiling together in an embrace, looked back at her as the brightness seared her sensitive eyes, causing her to recoil a bit while she lowered the brightness.
Apparently it wasn’t early morning at all.
Mom, 8:45 am : Good Morning, sweetie! We’ll be back at around five today! Hope Homecoming went well!
Dad, 9:00 am : Had a good time at the coast. Stopping at the cliffs your mom likes in two hours. Staying for lunch there until three. 👍.
Dad, 10:52 am : (Attachment 7 Images)
Good, she thought to herself, still stroking Simone’s head gently. We can sleep in a bit longer.
Nice!, she texted back, trusting autocorrect with how out of it she still was. Get home safe!
She scrolled to the last text.
Mrs. Watter, 9:30 am : Good morning Susie! I imagine you are both tired and sleeping in from a busy night! I just wanted to text you to tell Simone to come back home by 1:30, 2:00 at the latest. We’re having Sunday lunch today as a family around two and I’d like for her not to miss out on the nachos she likes. You are welcome to join us if you would like!
“Goddamnit,” she muttered to herself. With it already being eleven, they’d have to be getting up now so that they can both get ready, and so Susie can tell Simone- what was it?
She racked her brain for it, still trying to jump start herself fully away, and in that effort, didn’t notice Simone’s eyes flutter open.
She heard the light groan hum at her chest, and her eyes were instantly alert. Looking down, she saw Simone breath in deeply, and rouse herself slowly, raising her head up a bit until they were both making eye contact.
While both were wrapped in each other’s embrace.
Tightly.
On the same couch.
After a night’s sleep.
That Simone probably didn’t remember all that well.
“Hey,” Simone ventured, her face mere inches from Susie’s chest, where she had been pressing her face into just a few seconds ago, covered in a single layer of thin cotton.
“Morning,” Susie squeaked out, her eyes flitting for just a second down Simone’s crop top, buckling under the temptation of wanting to see what it had been hiding from her all night. When her eyes drew back at Simone’s, she saw that hers flitted back up to her from the same view, only now she was the subject, and Simone was the voyeur.
In that split second before the silence was broken, Susie was keenly aware about what they had mutually done given the chance, and her face instantly burned, with Simone’s also going beet red.
Clumsily, they both shot back, quickly trying to untangle themselves from each other, a mess of limbs and poor coordination as they each pushed away from each other and into the opposite ends of the coach. Simone miscalculated, however, and with a thud, fell off and onto the carpet.
Gingerly, she pulled herself back onto her end of the couch, not even daring to meet Susie’s eyes as they stayed in fragile silence together once again, her hair wrap askew with her bangs poking out at awkward angles.
Simone burst into laughter.
It took a bit until Susie could join in, but when she did it was like all the tension disappeared, and with it, she doubled over at the ridiculousness of the situation.
Susie was the first to speak again, as Simone carefully took off her wrap and shook her hair loose, wild and wavy as usual with a gleam.
“So… how did you sleep?” she asked sheepishly, looking back at her.
“Honestly?” replied Simone, eyes distracted by her efforts to tease her bangs and locks into good form. “The best in a long, long while.”
Susie hummed to herself, unconsciously fixing her own hair.
“Guess we’re up now, huh?” mused Simone, looking back at her. She blew a stray lock away from her face while sitting comfortably at the other end of the couch. Yep,” said Susie, now fighting tooth and nail not to look at Simone anywhere other than her eyes. “Got a lot to talk about last night. Plus,” she added, lifting her phone up to reveal the text from Mrs. Watter, “we’re on a time limit.”
Other than an energy drink covered in bright colors, always more than 120 mgs of Caffeine, and dubious formulation claims paired with a name like “Ultra Sunrise” or “Ultra Fiesta Mango” before she skates transition to calm her nerves, Simone wasn’t really partial to caffeine. Being ADHD, she had a paradoxical reaction to it where in normal doses, it did nothing for her, and in absurdly high doses that would give someone heart palpitations, she’d simply feel peaceful, and relaxed.
Susie, however, needed her morning coffee, and was adamant to having it before anything else that morning. Half a cup in, and the warm, slightly bitter goodness was settling in, clearing away the sluggishness from the night before. Simone was hooking her phone up to the radio they had in the kitchen, playing a genre she said was called “Post-Punk”. The essence of punk, she recalled her saying, but in its opposite form, like the feeling you get from walking home alone at night after a bomb house show. Clean guitar tones with reverb but little to no distortion. Echoey, spacey vocals, wrapped in poetry and in an anguished softness, in contrast to the direct, crass, and punchy lyrics and delivery of punk. Sparse soundscapes, but filled with soul and melancholy.
“So…” Simone said, walking over to the table still in her borrowed sleep clothes where Susie was sitting, staring out the window into the backyard. “What, uh, happened last night? We didn’t, uhm-”
She rubbed the back of her neck, and averted her eyes, face red again.
“Hm? Oh! Oh, no, no! No!” replied Susie, grounded back in reality, looking back at her best friend. “No, we just got home safe, and uhm, I helped clean you up, and gave you those,” she said motioning to her outfit, “to borrow. You showered and took your meds by yourself, and I promise I didn’t peek.”
Susie pointedly looked at her coffee mug at her half truth, the sight of Simone’s boyshorts still seared-
“Huh,” muttered Simone. “Did anything else… What exactly happened to me last night, Susie?”
Susie sighed, and set down her mug. Rip it off like a bandaid, she told herself.
“Simone,” she said, looking at her point blank and keeping her voice as steady as she could, “last night you were drugged by somebody who wanted to take advantage of me.”
Simone looked confused for a second before she answered.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” she said slowly, “‘Cause things get a bit blurry once we get to Candice’s.”
“Right, okay. So, here’s what happened. We agreed that I would be the designated driver beforehand, so you were pretty excited when he headed to Candice’s. As soon as we got there, you split, and went outside to take bong hits, which, from how long you were outside and what you looked like when you came back in, seemed to be a lot.”
“Oh, I remember now,” she laughed. “Yeah no, halfway through they brought out a small dab rig, and I ended up taking one of those after two big rips from the piece. Coughed my lungs out.”
She smiled that same delinquent smile she did when she told her about landing sketchy skate tricks or running from security.
“Well, uhm, you know Chris? I was kind of being a wallflower, drinking some type of juice they had, waiting for you to come back, and he was being really nice and all.”
Susie grimaced, recounting what was about to happen next, even mentioning the asshole's name felt like coughing up nails.
“After a while, it was clear he was hitting on me. He asked a lot of questions about how I’m gonna get home, when I’m usually free, whether I had drank anything, or whatnot…”
Susie cleared her throat, withholding an important detail as to why she had bothered listening to his attempt at an advance on her, why she had entertained the distraction that he offered even if she didn’t really feel anything close about him as much as she did about-
“He kept offering me a drink after a while,” she continued, “telling me to loosen up and enjoy the party, and I kept telling him I was enjoying myself just fine, thank you, and the conversation was enough, and that I was your designated driver and couldn’t partake in anything, which, looking back now was the first real red flag. He looked kind of peeved when I mentioned you at all, as if you being talked about reminded him of something.”
Simone’s eyes got wide, and then narrowed as her fingers tightened around the white napkin she had been fiddling with, knuckles white.
“After a while he had me up against the wall—not like, aggressively, but it was clear he didn’t want me going anywhere—and he started to get really pushy about me having a drink, specifically the extra one he had in his hand.”
Her throat constricted as she got to that part.
“I wasn’t thinking, and there was a lot going on, and I just wanted it to stop so I was about to take it when you-” she said with a bitter laugh “-stumbled to me, obviously fucked up, with an empty wine cooler can in one hand. You slurred your words, and said ‘Susie!’” she said in an imitation of a white girl wasted too-loud yelp. “‘I’m feelin’ sooooo good right now! You havin’ fun?’”
That cut the tension quick, and Simone cracked a grin, letting go of the napkin.
“Oh, I was that out of it, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Susie, nodding in vehement agreement. “I was so relieved you were there to be a buffer between me and Chris, which he was obviously not too happy about, and explained that he was offering me a drink, but I couldn’t since I was driving both of us home, and in an instant you saw it in his hands, and just… took it.”
Simone burst out laughing. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah,” Susie nodded, remembering her brave, stupid, beloved knight in shining armor in action. “You said ‘Well, don’t mind if I do, then!’ and in one gulp, drank the whole thing in front of me. Chris was so shocked he didn’t even react, and when you finished it, you let the empty plastic cup fall to the ground, with the biggest grin on your face I have ever seen. And Chris just started laying into you. I mean, just started yelling at you about how you ruined it, about you getting in the way, just on and on, and very quickly everyone turned to see it. The music was lowered, and Chris just didn’t stop screaming at you.”
“And what did I do?” asked Simone, a look of pride in her eyes bright like the sun.
“You just stared at him, with the dumbest look I had ever seen before saying, ‘Too many words, man. I don’t know what you just said.’ And that- that just pissed him off even more. Before I knew it, you stumbled backwards, and looked back at him and said “Holy shit dude, what was in that drink? Shit’s strong as fuck, I kinda want anoth-” and then fell forwards while giggling. You started crawling towards me, and I helped you up, and one look at you and everyone saw that you were completely fucked.”
“Wooowwww,” said Simone, in awe.
“Took half a second to put two and two together, and with everyone watching to confirm what had happened, there was little Chris could do. I was furious, all the girls started dumping their drinks, and a few guys grabbed him before he could run. He spilled real quick, and said there wasn’t anything hard or synthetic in the drink, just a ton of THC tincture mixed in with a few extra shots of vodka.”
“I gotta try that on my own time,” Simone muttered. “Maybe a little weaker, though.”
“Jesus Christ, Simone. Anyway, since nobody got taken advantage of, and there was a lot of underage drinking and smoking, we couldn’t really call the cops. I wanted to, you know, but just- one look at you, and I knew I had to get you to a safe place. Everyone knows, though, and by now, the whole school probably knows to stay away from him. He got roughed up by a few guys nicely, and got kicked out before we left. I was a wreck but I knew I had to just get you home and deal with everything there. I knew you could handle big doses, since you brag about it so much, but I was still so fucking scared the entire ride home.”
She felt her chest constrict at the mention of that part of the story, of how her heart hammered the entire way through, and the worst case scenarios spiraled through her head all while Simone, reduced to a toddler on a sugar rush, sat next to her.
“I imagine I was having a good time, however.” she smirked.
“The first fifteen minutes of that forty five minute drive were probably the best anyone has ever had, to be honest,” admitted Susie. “That band you like, King Wizard Lizard or whatever-”
“King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard,” she corrected.
“Yeah, them. You listened to that on the car’s stereo and were having a blast. Got you home, told your mom your phone had died, and that we were gonna watch a Cronenberg movie marathon. I think you can fill in the rest.”
Susie reached back for her cup of coffee and finished it in one gulp, the weight she had been carrying finally off her shoulders.
“So… what you’re saying,” Simone said slowly, “is that I’m a hero. Like Jesus, or Joan of Arc.”
“I’m actually saying you have an impulse control problem, and that you fell ass-backwards into something that could have ended horribly for you if it was anything other than weed and liquor in that cup.”
“But I did all of that,” she countered, holding up her hands, “heroically. Which makes me a hero. Like Paul Revere.”
“Simone,” she cut in, a pleading tone edging her words, “I’m still not in the place to find all of it that funny. Please.”
Simone’s face softened, and she nodded, walking around the table to sit right next to her. For a moment, neither of them looked at each other, or said a word, letting the weight of the story settle into each of them, as the music filled the silence.
“Thank you,” said Simone, looking at her. “And I mean that with all the gratitude in the world. You can always count on me, Susie dooby doo. And I know I can count on you.”
Susie finished her coffee, and set down the mug before meeting her eyes again. She was so close to her, and her eyes showed only a hint of wear from the night before. The girl was a trooper, she’d have to give her that.
“I know for a fact you have done the same, frenchie,” she smiled, looking away at the last word while still facing her. Her favorite nickname for her choosing a french name.
Simone grinned, and then was about to speak before she closed her mouth.
Susie blinked. “Is there… ?” she ventured.
“What uhm,” stammered Simone, unusually trepidatious for herself. “Why’d you entertain Chris? You usually don’t take shit from anyone.”
Susie’s blood ran cold. “Oh, uh- hah. Hm. Uhm. I guess-” she stalled for time, trying to find an excuse, a deflection, anything. Anything from being truthful.
Simone’s eyes trapped hers, and she saw the same honesty that she had seen in her since she was a small boy, slightly confused at her apprehension. Gentle. Sweet. Trusting her to say her piece, and trusting her when to do so.
“If you don’t want to say, you don’t have to,” Simone kindly reassured her, squeezing her hand slightly, confirming exactly what Susie saw in her without knowing that she was doing it.
She trusted her with her life last night, the whole ride home, and the whole night with her. Every step, she looked to her for guidance, for help. From that afternoon in the woods, to just last night, Simone never doubted her for a second.
Susie’s heart twisted tight and her throat dried up as the realization threw her stomach into nervous flip-flops. This was the time to be truthful, because all this time, Simone had been the same with her.
No matter what she would end up saying, Susie knew that she would always have her. That the memories that they made wouldn’t mean anything less, and that the truth of why she felt the way that she did for her wouldn’t change either.
“Simone, I-” she croaked out through her dry throat, forcing her flitting eyes up to her concerned gaze. “Chris was a distraction. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I just couldn’t and I was scared about what that meant, for the future, and for us, and how-”
“Susie, I am so sorry,” cut in Simone, eyes wide in horror. “I know what you said about me being impulsive, and going too hard during parties, and how you don’t like how much I use or drink during those times, and I didn’t realize how much I was fucking up your ability to enjoy your time there. If I knew I would never have asked you to be my designated driver because you’re not my babysitter and it was wrong of me to saddle that with you and stop you from enjoying-”
Susie broke into laughter for the second time that morning, the beautiful ridiculousness of sweet, ever worrying Simone being in her life once again being too much.
“God, Simone, no! I’m one hundred percent okay chauffeuring my little bong brain around! I love it when you’re safe, and honestly, I just don’t like to drink at parties or really ever, and I have no interest in smoking or anything else. Taking care of you is a bonus more than anything.”
Simone looked at her, confused. “Then…?”
Susie locked her eyes with her, and let the words come out freely. Rip it off like a bandaid, she told herself, for the second time that morning.
“I’m in love with you Simone,” she said, eyes watering a bit as the admission that had burned a hole inside of her finally was let free, and all the stress inside her washed away with its absence. An electric feel to her insides replaced the knots, waking her up more than the coffee ever could.
“I have been for a long while now, maybe longer than I can even admit to myself. I love you so much that to be with you only as a friend hurt in the worst way possible, because I was so lucky to have you at all. To see you become the person you are now, to be your friend through all of it, to know you as well as I have in the time that’s passed, all of that is a privilege that I couldn’t put a price on if I tried.
“I love you so much,” she said, the tears finally spilling over, “that if I couldn’t have you, I needed a distraction, any distraction, no matter how shitty. Even if I hated that it wasn’t you. Even if I hated it.”
Simone looked at her, eyes wide and paralyzed, and with the floodgates open, Susie just kept spilling her guts.
“It was the dumbest thing I have ever done, and it only ended badly in a way that’s pretty fucking ridiculous. So yeah. I love you. I love your smile, and your laughter, and your jokes that are both so smart and so stupid at the same time. I love your nose and your eyes, and your lips and the way you dress, because it’s so refreshing and quintessentially you. Not just punk, not just metal or emo or skater but you. I love how you skate, even if I don’t understand why you only wear a helmet when you’re at the skate park, or going down stair sets or trying a new trick for the first thirty minutes. I love it when you talk for hours about the music you like even if it makes my head spin, or when you talk about philosophy in a way that’s both incredibly insightful and also very vulgar. I love the way you wear your hair, I love how your face gets so focused when you’re repairing your skate shoes, or fixing your board, or building a new set up, or stitching up your clothes.”
Susie caught her breath, and felt all the good things burst open, like a flower growing from seed to blossom in just a few seconds.
“I love the way you sleep wrapped around your Blåhaj with Hobbes right next to your pillow keeping watch. I love your comics and your art because you can draw with incredible realism, but all of your comics are always in that playful style because you know it’s more fun to do it that way. I love seeing you argue with the teacher when you know they’re in the wrong, and how you learned French all by yourself because you refuse to only ever have read the translations of your favorite philosophical texts. Most of all, I just love you. For everything that you are, and everything that you do. There’s no one else like you, and if we are only ever friends, that’s enough, because being friends with you is as good as it gets.”
Susie squeezed Simone’s hand, as she sat there, her face red and eyes still wide. She was trying to speak, but only could get out a few mutterings. She breathed in and out, before dropping her head a bit, her hair flopping in front of her. Her eyes darted around behind her bangs, visible for a flash in the spaces between her bangs.
“Y-you don’t really mean that,” she whispered. “I’m- I’m just me. Just Simone.”
“Yeah. You are,” Susie said softly. “That’s the best part about you. The whole of it.”
She looked back up to her, her eyes still covered behind her bangs and locks, and for a moment, Susie could see her in the woods again. Scared. Under a hoodie. Hiding her eyes. This time, it was Susie who had the confession.
She got closer to her, moving her chair until she was right there with her.
“I always thought,” murmured Simone, flinching just a tiny bit when Susie delicately pushed away some of her hair so she could look her in the eyes again. “I always thought that I would never really find anyone who’d want me for myself. Even now, being myself in the open, I’m not completely open about what I am to anyone other than you, really. For safety, obviously. I’m so lucky for that to be the case for me.”
She breathed in a bit shakily, and Susie’s heart broke just a little bit more. Two tear tracks lined Simone’s face, as she continued speaking.
“Sometimes though, I just feel like a secret,” she said, hushed. “And that my best shot at happiness with someone else is to only ever be that. Someone else’s secret. You deserve the world, Susie. You really do, and I love you too. The same way you love me. For a long time too, since the days we played house and I hated being the dad. I just always assumed you deserved better than a secret.”
With the tips of her fingers, Susie lifted her chin just a tiny bit so they could see each other clearly, mutual tears and all.
“If you’ll let me, Simone,” she said reverently, “I won’t ever stop showing you how truly beautiful you are, the way I see you. Not just to me, but as you are intrinsically. You’re nobody’s secret, darling. You’re self-evident truth.”
She looked back at her, once again like that day in the woods, with hope behind her eyes.
Her lips were on her’s in an instant. She tasted so good, and her lips were just as exquisitely soft as she thought they would be. Her clever fingertips found the spaces behind her neck and behind her ears where they fit perfectly, and Susie’s hands found the same spaces as well. They broke their kiss for a second, just to breathe, just to be for a second in that moment as a shift that they couldn’t go back on took place.
When they kissed again, they both deepened it with fervor, both of them standing up and wrapping their arms and hands onto each other, desperate as a sunlight burst from both of them, and fire lit their bodies right to their fingertips with their warmth.
So good. So, so, so, so good, she thought with complete giddiness, her mind otherwise blank.
An alarm interrupted them, both of them standing apart as Susie fumbled for her phone.
12:00.
They had an hour and thirty minutes before they had to be at Simone’s for lunch.
Susie looked up at Simone, both of them smiling wide and practically breathless, each wanting more.
“Can we… ?”
“We can be late,” said Simone in an instant.
She held out her hand, and her toothy, lovable smile, eyes flitting behind her to the living room that had the staircase going upstairs. To Susie’s room.
Susie grabbed it and followed Simone the whole way through, a part of her refusing to believe that what was happening was real as they bounded up the stairs.
Even if it wasn’t, she thought to herself, the last of her rational thought leaving as she practically pounced on Simone the instant the door closed behind her, grabbing everything she could of her as they fell onto her bed. She spotted Mr Bun on her nightstand, keeping watch and with one free hand, turned him around to face away.
Even if it wasn’t, and I was just imagining it, I wouldn’t mind. One must imagine yourself happy, however one can.