Harrison Avenue // H.S.

E.T. Phone Home

[Harry]

Turning the key in the door while trying to keep Perkins on the outside, I walk into her flat. Perkins has taken an extreme liking to her place since we coaxed him over here with cat treats a few weeks ago. And while I think Perkins prefers to be here, Frieda makes it very much known that we can't steal her cat. Elle always plays the innocent card but Frieda is not easily convinced with Elle's batting eyelashes that normally get me.

As soon as I walk into the dark room, noticing a lump on the bed covered in blankets but illuminated by a laptop underneath, I know exactly what is happening. That lump is Ellison and the quiet sniffling from underneath only confirms my original thoughts.

"Ellison," I say her name as I walk through the dark flat, setting my stuff down on the table on my way to her bed. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

"Shut up, Harry," she sniffles, not moving from her lumped position on the bed.

Ignoring her brashness, I crawl in next to her in the bed, kicking off my shoes as I do. She doesn't let me into her lump, holding the blanket down tight but I don't give up easily. Some quick maneuvering and my strength that over powers hers does the trick, and soon enough my head is peeking under with my eyes meeting her knee.

I look up at her but her eyes stay forward, still sniffling but without any obvious signs of tears. I can tell she's trying to fight the urge to look down at me but I know the longer I stare up at her, resting my chin on her leg that she'll eventually give in. It doesn't take long either, seconds later her eyes looking down to meet mine. But it only lasts milliseconds before she returns to the screen of her laptop watching the movie in front of her.

"This is the third time this week I've shown up here to see you watching E.T. and crying," I whisper, moving my eyes to the screen briefly. "You're torturing yourself, Elle."

"It's a sad movie," she defends herself, sniffling again. "When E.T. and Elliot almost die... and then when they say goodbye. E.T. phone home, Harry. That's fucking heartbreaking."

This is partially my fault since I was the one who initiated the behavior in the first place. If I would have known this would be the result I would have never suggested the movie at all. It was like any other night at Ellison's apartment, playing music and dancing around, eating way too much popcorn and laughing so loud that Frieda comes over to complain. Then while I was looking through her small bookshelf, recognizing most of it from her much larger one in her parent's house, my attention was caught by her small collection of movies.

She should have warned me that E.T. puts her in a perpetual binge of repeating the movie and sadness. But no, instead she smiled like it was a good idea.

"Exactly my point," I breathe out, watching the scene on the screen. "You're torturing yourself," I repeat again since I know she didn't bother to listen the first time.

E.T. does have its sad moments, I'll admit that much, but she acts like it's a god damn sap story where the family dog dies. And it's funny because I don't think she would even cry if it was that kind of movie, but for whatever reason, one that I can't fully figure out, E.T. gets to her.

"It's Spielberg though," she shakes her head, refusing to accept the idea that's causing herself to turn into a sad lump on the bed. "It's classic... I have to watch it."

"Not every day for a week," I huff out, rolling my eyes at her. I'm careful not to let her see this though because I know it will earn a slap across the head and I'm not at an easy angle to avoid that. She's too busy watching the movie to really notice anyways.

Instead of trying to fight with her about it, since whatever I say about her losing her mind goes without a blink of an eye, I move under her blanket to sit next to her in the bed. I'm a little surprised when she doesn't say anything to stop me and soon enough we're squished under the blanket, my knees knocking into hers and both of our eyes on the screen of her laptop.