Unfinished Sentences

one || letters

O N E : Letters

Picture this:

You’re lazing around in your bed, with an episode of The Big Bang Theory waiting to be watched while a whole canister of your Aunt Mabel’s famous double chocolate chip cookies are sitting at arm’s reach on top of your bedside drawer, and you have no other plans for the rest of the evening.

Just as you begin to relax and ease into your usual weekend routine, however, your best friend suddenly decides to ruin your Zen (for lack of a better term).

Of course I’m not happy.

I, for one, believe that my presence at a social gathering that does not directly involve me isn’t exactly a matter of significance.

My best friend, it turns out, seems to think otherwise.

I haven’t even watched past the theme song of The Big Bang Theory when my cell phone starts vibrating on my bedside drawer. I take it, almost unconsciously singing along the catchy tune blasting from my laptop. I have to suppress the urge to roll my eyes at the sight of Charlie’s name flashing across the screen.

I have half a mind to ignore the call, wishing I can just switch my phone off altogether so I can watch without further disturbances, but Charlie hardly ever calls. Only when it’s about something vaguely important does he prefer calling over texting, so I reluctantly hit pause. The screen catches Sheldon and Leonard in their room.

“This better be important,” I say to Charlie in lieu of a hello.

“I’m picking you up in twenty minutes,” he says back, hardly affected by the venomous tone in my voice.

I am slightly disappointed by his lack of reaction. Over the years, he must have developed an immunity to my murderous threats and verbal insults. Most people would have gone running to the other direction after a particularly bad encounter with me—and I’m not exactly fond of getting pulled out of my weekend routine, so I suspect this counts as one. 

“I don’t remember making plans with you,” I tell him, leaning over to grab my planner from under the bed. I had always been quite forgetful. Without Regina (the name Charlie had given my planner a week after he’d seen me bring it everywhere with me), I would hardly remember any of my appointments or project deadlines.

When I see that I am, indeed, free (according to Regina) today, I can’t help but frown and wonder if I’d somehow forgotten to write down my plans with Charlie, if we did make them.

He answers my unspoken question. “We didn’t.”  

In the background, I can hear the distant sound of videogame gunshots and grenade explosions, accompanied by someone (his brother Finn, I’m guessing) occasionally yelling out a curse in the most creative way possible.

“We didn’t,” I echo flatly, puzzled.

“But now we are and that means I’ll—hah! Suck it, loser!”

My eyes narrow slightly. I wonder if “suck it” was just another of those nonsensical things boys say to demean each other, or if Finn the “loser” really is meant to suck something, whatever it may be that needs sucking.

I decide it’s best not to ask. With Charlie and Finn, there are something you don’t want to know. (I learned this the hard way.)

“Where are we going?” I say instead.

“We won the soccer game. There’s this victory party and I am not going alone.”

“The soccer team won the game,” I say, “we didn’t.”