The Andy Theory (A Blast from the Past)

That Missing Thing Called Sweatshirt

-Chapter 1-

"You sure, you're fine?"

I cradled the phone carefully between my shoulder and my ear as I opened my closet. Where did I put it? I remember wearing it two days before I left for Boston, which—come to think of it—has been already a year ago now. Have I misplace it? I was sure I didn't bring it to the dormitory with me. Where is it?

"Clyde? You still there?"

"Oh," I finally say, remembering that Sarah's currently on the phone talking to me, but still I was so busy rummaging every corner of my messy closet for that bloody sweatshirt.

"Sorry, I was looking for this sweatshirt I want to wear, I can't seem to find it in my room."

"Oh, typical you," a soft chuckle resonated through the receiver and I smiled at the sound, "Maybe it's under your bed. Check it." Sarah says and I, being the dumb I was, followed her and lifted the mattress. I even peeked down under the bedstead just to be sure, but still, found nothing.

"It's not there," I sighed and I hear Sarah's stifling a laugh at the other end, "this is not funny, sugar. I really need that sweatshirt."

"Why do you need it for, anyway?" she asks, her soft giggles reverberating through the phone into my ear. I sat down on my bed, surrendering in defeat, and look back at the wreck I just made to my room. And then I slumped down in exhaustion, lying on my back, as I hold the phone closer to my ear. After a short pause, I say, "I don't really know... I just feel like wearing it today."

"You really are weird sometimes..." a delighting chuckle again, "If I were with you right now, I'd make you forget that sweatshirt and we'll eat pizzas until the sun comes down." I grinned at the thought.

Somehow, that idea seems to be more interesting than the sweatshirt.

"I'd love that..." I say to the phone, missing her presence and her face already, even though it's only been a day since we'd gotten apart.

 "...And then, we'd stay awake the whole night, in my bed, watch sappy romantic films or Johnny Depp, with your head on my shoulder, and my arms around you and chocolate ice cream..." she laughs at my words and I stopped babbling, joining her, our laughs blending together, and the sweatshirt completely forgotten.

"You, brat..." she says teasingly after a sigh and I was grinning widely at the imagination I suddenly had with her, "Oh, Clyde... You have no idea how badly I want to see you right now."

I sighed too, "Same here..."

And she let out another sweet chuckle, tickling my eardrums with the music it gives. I could even imagine her smiling cheekily at the phone right now, with her fingers playing through the ends of her pixie-styled blonde hair, her feet propped up on the couch where she was sitting and a bowl of cheese balls resting on her lap. The picture made me want to see her more in person, and I felt the sudden urge to drive the eighty miles distance between us.

"I wished I could go there to see you..." she says in the same misery I also felt.

I nodded and, realizing that I was nodding to no one in particular, I added, "Me, too. So badly."

We continued talking more about something else and then she began discussing our plans for the next semester, deviating my thoughts away from the sweatshirt, until we hung up.  Then, I was left alone thinking about where I last left it again... Now, it bothers me even more. Where is it?

"Clyde, you 'kay, bud?" dad's voice woke me up from a trance and I sat up to look at him. He was standing at the doorway with a baseball cap on, watching me. He looks like he's going out for another game with the other folks in the neighborhood, which only means that, I'd be all alone in the house again.