Spontaneity [On Indefinite Hold]

Spontaneity: Chapter 23

~~ May 26, 2013 [SUN] // 6:06 am ~~

 

o   Martin

 

A sort of buzzing noise close to my ear made me aware that I had been asleep before I became aware that I was awake. At first, I tried to cover my head with my pillow and ignore the buzzing, but it persisted after a brief period of silence and I had this (groggy) feeling that it would keep pestering me unless I addressed it.

I threw my pillow aside, feeling a sort of stiffness in my arms as I did so. Turning my head left without opening my eyes yet, I felt the area beside me for my cellphone. Once I was holding it, I imagined where the proper swipe feature was to take the call, and swiped at the screen with my phone.

Pressing the device to my left ear, I mumbled sleepily, “Yeah…?”

“Geez, I knew it,” came a voice that I recognized as none other than Dante’s – slightly annoyed, bemused, and astounded at once, “You went drinking last night, didn’t you?”

“Uhh, no. No, I didn’t.”

“Really?”

“Really. What do you want? It must be like… four in the morning.”

“It’s six o’clock, actually. You don’t remember me telling you last night we’ll be going to the gym this morning?”

“Wha—? Oh… Oh, that’s right. Yeah. I forgot.”

“Sorry for waking you up,” Dante said, purposefully not sounding sorry at all, “Now get your ass up and let’s go.”

I groaned and slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes with my free hand. “Yeah, okay. I’ll meet you at the recreational center in twenty minutes or so.”

“No, I’m right outside. I told you I’d meet you here at six.”

“Oh. Hang on. I’m coming down.”

I hung up, staggered out of bed and out of my room, and stumbled my way downstairs with my eyes open only a squint. I reached the front door and opened it. Dante was standing on the porch, dressed in a plain black shirt, navy blue shorts, and worn out low-tops – his typical exercise outfit. He frowned as he surveyed me with much more awake eyes than mine.

“Morning,” I said in a low voice, putting up a hand to shield my eyes from the light of the sunrise outside.

“I didn’t ring the doorbell because I know the rest of your folks are still sleeping. You look like hell. What happened?” he asked, starting to show the first faint traces of concern.

I certainly felt like hell, all right.

“Wanna come inside for a quick bite?” I asked him, jerking my thumb toward the kitchen.

“I could do with a very light bite,” Dante said admittedly, “I didn’t eat anything before I left the house.”

“Come in, then.”

Dante stepped inside, kicking aside his shoes before following me to the kitchen. I pointed toward the microwave oven, which had a container of butter croissants on top of it.

“Help yourself,” I told Dante, starting to awaken more although I still felt undeniably tired, “Feel free to grab a plate and use the toaster. And make yourself at home.”

“Sweet deal. Hey, you want some, too?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Toast one croissant for me. I’ll just get changed.”