The Incredible League of Goth Pizza Haters (RH)

Part 85

---Sylvia---
I remained awake late into the night, but it wasn't insomnia this time. I'd simply gotten my fill of sleep earlier. Ricky drifted off around ten and I set back to my usual nighttime activities. Snacking and working while the TV filled in background noise to keep my mind from stretching too far into thought.

John is dead. Joe is dead. Things can go back to how they were. The bruises are healing, pain fading and memories blurring behind every passing day.

So why do I still feel strange?

I joined Ricky in bed around three-thirty in the morning and hesitantly fell asleep.

***

I woke up to an empty bed and sat up, slightly confused. There were no flashing images, no voices and no pain in my head or body. No nightmares, no dreams. I pinched myself, just to make sure this was real.

I started downstairs and found pancakes. It took me back to before when Ian had hit me and I'd walked in on the guys' movie night thing. I snickered a little at the dawning realization that I get beat up way too much.

Seriously, I get myself into so many shitty situations. In just the time span of meeting Ricky, I'd been drugged, hit, harassed, slammed with the sudden death of my little sister, hit by a goddamn flying soda bottle, hit again, lost my cat, and drugged (again) and kidnapped.

Jesus Christ, I need to chill. No wonder my mother wants to wrap me in several layers of bubble wrap.

I took a room temperature pancake and walked into the living room expecting to find Ricky but he wasn't there. Out of curiosity I set down the plate and began my search. Not in the basement, not upstairs..

I found him on the porch smoking.

"Hey," I said and he looked over, smiling a bit and tapping the end of his cigarette against an ashtray.

"Morning." he murmured and I sat down on the chair next to him. It made an awkward creaking sound and bent uncomfortably.

"How long have you had these chairs?"

"They're Balz's. I don't know how long he's had them but we used them last summer. I know, they suck. We'll buy new ones when it's warmer."

".. I kind of miss summer," I said, looking out into the cold, dismal weather. Precipitation covered every inch of the porch while drizzles fell in light, inconsistent showers over the road and cars that drifted by, "Don't get me wrong, I prefer the cold. But.. I don't know. Rain like this is prettier in the summer. And I'm tired of freezing my ass off."

He smiled.

"I agree. I'm also looking forward to summer. We'll have the guys over and we'll have a cookout or something. If not here, then at Chris's or Ryan's. It'll be fun."

It'll be better, I almost said. It'll be lighter and happier and things will be normal.

When we went back inside, my pancake was gone. I contemplated insanity before walking into the hallway and spotting my cat - my guilty asshole of a cat- eating my pancake. I tried to take it from him but he picked it up between his teeth and darted off into the basement. I bit my lip but gave up on the chase. Wally's been getting fatter and I know it's because Ricky is feeding him people food. Whenever I confront him about it he denies it but I know he is because both the cats are gaining weight. And now they have a taste for people food - for pancakes.

I went to get another pancake from the table but changed my mind. They were cold, anyway. And I wanted a shower. Pancakes are not shower food.

I took an apple and went upstairs.