I finally got my chance to look into the mirror at the damage to my face. Lights off in my room so that it would be cooler, darker, so that I could think straight. Peter, unfortunately, begrudgingly wanted to go home and that was fine, I think we both needed a little time to process everything individually. I, however, was saving thinking about that for later.
The bruise wasn't all that great to see. It was purple-ish now, pink near the edges. It was on my cheekbone, where I felt it hurt the most, in a sort of pulsing pain. The kind of bruise you'd look at on another person and say, 'shit, wonder what happened to them!'. Pretty bad, but it wasn't swelling. I expected it might have swelled and then died down overnight, so lucky me. With luck, it would be gone in a week and a half. I'd just have to ice it in the meantime.
I didn't even want to comprehend or acknowledge how I got it. Punched in the face by a grown man. I guess it was for the greater good, but to be honest we never really found out the full story from Hank, Charles, Sylvia, or Logan.
To be entirely honest it was deciding whether or not it was something worth remembering or if I should block it out of my brain entirely. The power I emit that day was incredulous, but the doing was illegal and could take my life away from me. If I was ever identified, I faced jail time and the loss of education, potential future jobs, etcetera. What I couldn't selectively forget were the people. The look on their faces when my powers burst outward was burned into my mind. Of course, I couldn't even try to forget Sylvia, her personality, how much she teased and how much I secretly loved it and already found that my life was now lacking her presence. Even if she was... eccentric and troublesome.
I couldn't risk being not myself and blurting it out. Maybe when drunk, or under some influence. Maybe medication or a spell of some sort. If I didn't remember it, that wouldn't happen, right?
Like I had recalled before, this event, all of these events had now become part of my life story. Imagine what might have happened if I never met Peter? I'd be alone still, working all summer, I'd never have met Sylvia. Peter changed everything and now he and I were finally able to stop the denial. All these new things were so exciting, but I couldn't tell anyone but the people I was with, which was ultimately frustrating because I couldn't trust myself to write it down and keep it hidden.
And I did think more about it all later, not just that, but more Peter. I'm sure a part of my brain had accidentally dedicated itself to him because he was on my mind far more than he should have been. If this all went right, I'd be someone's girlfriend, which was both utterly terrifying and magnificent at the same time.
Pros, cons, weighing themselves out constantly. I didn't even know if this was a valid way to sort thoughts about him, but I sat at my vanity, pen tapping quickly. The list was so easy to read from a biased mind, it was hard to figure out if I was leaning toward yes or no.
Pros:
- I've liked him forever
- No more hiding
- First relationship
- He makes me happy and feel like myself
- Hands
- He's pretty 🖤
Cons:
- What if it doesn't work out?
- What if I'm not the right person to be his girlfriend?
- What if he loses interest and I don't see it coming?
- What if we move past kissing and I'm not in good enough shape?
- What if he cheats?
With my head in my hands, I tried to determine whether or not to actually give this a chance. The cons seemed so much worse, but maybe they were worth it for him. I never wanted to lose him as a friend, nor did I ever want to hurt him or myself in process of being more than friends.
Sex was up there on the list because of course, the mind of a teenaged boy is only on one thing and that was it, so rightfully I was worried about it and me. Peter joked about it often enough for me to know he did actively think about it and even though I hadn't caught him sneaking glances at my upper body in a while, I knew that he did and apologies weren't always enough. I wasn't ready for it, not yet, but who knows what Peter will ask for and when? If I didn't look right when the time comes... that could be a contributing factor to heartbreak.
Peter was very much so right when he said I needed optimism. I really fucking did. The pen fell in front of me, rolling over the cons. I wanted Peter, but did I want to end up with nothing if we overstepped the relationship? If I messed it up, would we lose everything? I shut my eyes tight and decided I'd revisit this all the next day.
But I didn't. I pocketed the note and walked around with it for a day. I pocketed it again, going to work two days after Peter's date proposal, at around 5 pm. I was unbearably excited and nervous and there was still another sleep to go through. Still naive, I found myself smiling as I walked in the front door of the diner, despite the cons on the paper in the pocket of my uniform.
It had been a little hard to stop smiling ever since he'd made feelings known. Mother and I drove past him at the park with Wanda and it turned out to be very hard to control the butterflies as he extended a hand upwards to wave to us. That was the only time I'd seen him since the misunderstanding and the reconciliation. It was time to work and if I was lucky, Peter wouldn't come into the diner today so that I might finish my list of pros and cons in between customers.
"Good afternoon, Venus," Queenie greeted me from behind the counter when I walked in. "You got a little pep in your step today. Let me guess, you are so incredibly glad to come into the diner to work a five-hour shift for your amazing boss?"
"Something like that," I replied, pulling up my hair with my clip. She smiled at me, trying to seriously analyze my mood. I couldn't even analyze my own mood. The second I thought about the pros, I was fine, I was happy. But then the moment I remembered the cons, I was launched into what felt like a cold, dark room. Hot and cold, up and down. Every single second that list was in my pocket, my moods swung back and forth.
Queenie seemed to give up, "You and Mary are working alone tonight and she's working until closing time, so don't feel bad leaving her to lock up. You could always stay later but I wouldn't impose." She shrugged. Closing time was midnight and I usually only worked to nine or ten o'clock, but I didn't mind. When things were slow here, the cooks and I would play word games or just discuss the day's customers.
"I don't mind staying," I told her. Queenie looked pleased, but not surprised.
"You always go above and beyond, miss Venus," she pat me on the shoulder. "I, however, have a dance recital to attend to, so have a good shift, love." With those words, she left, climbing into her car and driving off.
It was dinner hours here, so with most of the booths full, I better get to work. I grabbed my apron, tied it in the back, and got to taking the order from the mom who comes in when she's too tired to prepare dinner. The reason I knew so was that she justified it every time I waited her table with a, "I would have made dinner, but you know, after three kids, you really just don't want to!" And I was fine with that repetition as I gave the order to the cooks in the back.
That started the work night. Waiting tables, chatting with some familiar customers, being hit on by a man who looked around sixty and having his daughter who looked about thirty try to shut him up and quickly apologize to me. He tipped well, though, so I could live with it.
Mary and I worked well in passing- there was no time to talk to her, but she did greet me with a cheery hello before I even got started. After that, we were in and out of the kitchen and not once did we come close to crashing into each other like my other coworkers had so many times before. Mary was long-legged and swift and knew how to carry things and it was great to see. She was well over six feet tall, taller than Peter, which scared me because me vs tall people is very scary. Peter was 6'1-ish and Mary... Mary must have been about 6'4, honestly. I'd never met anyone this tall before.
She smiled at me every time I went past and it was sweet and kept me in a good mood as I worked. Nothing about her was competitive like it was with Poppy, who would fake being nice and then go take orders from my tables. It felt good to be in an entirely non-toxic environment again and the best part was that she didn't really like Peter, so I wouldn't have the issue of Mary trying to make a move on him when I wasn't around.
The bottom line was that I liked Mary.
"Do you have any sort of vegetable burger?" The woman in front of me asked. I hadn't seen her before, this might have been her first visit here. She had dull brown hair, no curls to it and was dressed head to toe in a khaki colour and it looked darker than it was compared to the pale of her skin. To me she looked to be the kind who thinks animal consumption should be illegal. I was right, but I wasn't sure of that yet.
I shook my head 'no'. "We don't serve vegetable burgers, I'm sorry. The most vegetarian options I can give you are sweet potato fries, fries, grilled cheese, tomato soup, and salad." I told her. Her eyebrows narrowed, casting darkness over her face that would have scared me if I weren't prepared. Who acted like that... as a grown adult?
"You can't make one up?"
I tucked my loose hair behind my ears, "I don't cook, no, and the cooks work from the menu. We can usually make adjustments but not an entirely new thing from scratch on short notice. If you'd like any of those options I listed, I'll be happy to get them for you." I hated when they acted like I controlled the menu options.
She blinked hard. Why? No idea, there was nothing extra to see. "Who can I talk to about more inclusive items?" I blinked back. Did she want to talk to Queenie or the cooks? "Preferably now!" She snapped. Damn, I didn't even have a second to understand her question.
"Are you ordering something, ma'am?" Mary quite literally stood over me from behind. Her tone was different than how she spoke to me- harsher and more firm. I stepped aside so that I wasn't under her. The vegetarian woman shook her head, rather meek now that this giant waitress had stepped in. But she grabbed her purse, clutching it as if it was her life force. "If you're not planning to order, I suggest you leave and not yell at waitresses who have no control over what we serve here."
She just stared blankly. Normally, I'd hate people stepping in for me, but I would have already broken something if it weren't for Mary. Mary, was in fact, scary. "How dare you-"
"Go." Both Mary and I cut her off with the same word. I was tired of disrespectful customers, I really was. There was no point in being this rude. If you can't even try to find another food to eat, then why come at all? The woman got up and left and the moment she walked out the door I was able to properly breathe again.
"Damn." She put her hands on her hips. "Sorry about stepping in, I just get so pissed when entitled customers treat workers like shit. I promise you I meant no offence, I know you're entirely capable." She shrugged and pocketed her notebook. Well, that was nice to know, even though I had already forgiven her.
I smiled, "It's okay, I would have done something stupid if it had gone on any longer." Looking around, things were thinning already. Of course, the later regulars would come in later. Some hungry stoners, late-shift custodians, other odd night stragglers. I didn't even realize it was already eight-thirty. "Thank you, though."
"No problem." We both looked around. Everyone was eating now, there was nobody to serve. "How many times has that happened to you here?" She asked. We both moved instinctually to go into the back rooms and ended up doing a little dance trying not to crash into each other before she decided I should go first.
With real pep in my step now, I leaned against the wall of the back room, letting her have the chair. We had a clear view of customers from here and if we didn't, the tables had tapping bells. "Not so often, but there are moments. I was collectively hit on by a bunch of business men one time... and sexualized. My friend... the one you saw me with the other day, Peter, he got punched trying to defend me. I kicked them out, but it was not a good day."
I'd called Peter my friend. Were we still friends if we'd decided to move past that? I mean we weren't dating... not yet... not until tomorrow. Tomorrow... and I'd taken the midnight shift, too. I might not feel tired tomorrow but I'd look tired. And then what would I wear? I hadn't even thought of that part.
"God, men are just the worst," she picked up her glass of water she'd been drinking between kitchen visits and downed the rest. "Always fighting."
"Well, Peter doesn't usually do that, though. He's not incredibly violent, he was just pissed." I didn't mean to defend him. I cleared my throat, "Is it invasive to ask why you dislike Peter so much? I mean, it didn't hurt him, but you know, I noticed you were a little bitter the other day."
"And I noticed you left nearly crying, so the question is why not dislike Peter?"
There were many answers to that. I could give so many. "Well-"
"That was rude, I'm sorry." She cut me off from explaining. "I don't know Peter personally, so I promise not to assume anymore. I just... this sounds so dumb but he was friends with this kid named Raymond for a long time and Raymond and I... well, he was touchy. So I do know Peter but the only thing I know about him is that he kept being friends with Raymond after it had happened."
And now I knew exactly who Mary was and I knew what Raymond did. This just dipped much deeper than hatred for men. It was a generalization issue, not Mary's fault, but, I understood it immediately. She didn't need to say it. See, we'd run into Raymond that one time in downtown D.C. and he'd tried to make a move on me. Peter had introduced me, but with a tone of voice that I knew as the voice he used while trying to dismiss the person. 'Ray, graduated student, and intern at the bank' ran through my head.
Peter wasn't friends with Raymond. "I am so sorry that happened to you, that's disgusting. But Peter told me about you." I told her, straightening my back. "And he told me that he stopped hanging out with Raymond the second he found out. I promise you, I wouldn't lie about this, we ran into Raymond downtown and he tried to ask me out but Peter stopped him and that's how I know. And that was just so you know. You don't need to like Peter regardless."
Her face softened a bit, her mouth pinching to one side. "I didn't know that, I just heard things and I... that is good to know, thank you." I could see this was a hard topic and maybe I shouldn't have brought it up.
"I am really glad that you told me, though. Raymond can rot in hell." I tried assuring her and it looked like it worked, she grinned again. "Also, I won't tell Peter anything. I'm good at keeping secrets so you can tell me pretty much everything and anything. I've kept secrets since kindergarten."
"Okay, okay, thank you." One of the bells rung. "Can I hug you, is that weird?"
It probably would be, my face was pretty much at the level of her boobs. Not that I wanted to be there, but that's where this was going. I didn't want to say no, she'd just told me something that must have been really hard for her. "Uh..." I pulled a chair over and stood on it. "Sure."
The hug was brief but tight and she whispered, "Thank you for listening," in my ear before tending to the table that called. She smelled really good. I guess this officially meant we were friends and I was more than content with that. I felt bad for her and now I was moral support and it was good. I really wasn't so lonely anymore, was I? Three friends.
So now I went back to waiting tables, cleaning them, taking the money and putting it away. Tonight was a good night for hungry people, even as it got later into the night. Time was passing well, the clock was ticking onto ten o'clock and the pie was running out quickly, going to the older men from the church night choir. They were hearty and alive, the kind of people I'd like to be in my old age. They'd eat pie, laugh, and tonight they talked about old love.
They didn't mind that Mary and I stood behind the counter listening. The story wasn't just to be told amongst friends, it seemed. These old men, born before 1900, falling in love with these women who sounded so magnificent in the way they described them. I could only wonder if these women were still alive or if these men married their loves.
"Her name was Amybeth but her friends all called her Mae. I remember, she introduced herself to me but didn't shake my hand. She said, 'I'm Amybeth, but my friends call me Mae,' and I said, 'please to meet you, Mae,' but she narrowed her eyes and said in a very strong voice, 'I said my friends call me Mae. You can call me Miss James,' And at that moment I knew I was a goner." Said one man named George. He had wrinkle lines that filled when he smiled and I liked the fact that I knew who made him smile so much, or at least one factor.
"My Maisy, she had red hair, long, but kept it pinned up. The first time she took her hair out in front of me was in the golden sun and my god, I was sure I'd died and gone to heaven." Another man named Henry explained, his hand gesturing loosely to above him. He was sad, I could see it. "I miss my Maisy." Oh no...
As these men told their stories and let us listen I wondered if I'd ever live to tell a story like these ones. I had an entire future ahead of me, sure, but would I be content when the world around me and the people I knew would die? Would I be the teller or the told of and who was it who would tell my story? I was too young to think of this, but it wasn't such a bad thought to harbour in the blue of the night under the diner lights.
Mary was actually crying next to me. It was all sad to hear, but not in the depressed sort of emotional way, but rather more in the emotionally sad because it was beautiful. Another man John noted that his wife loved to hear him sing and they met through a school play when they were merely teenagers. John also mentioned that he'd sing to her in the hospital when she got sick which elicited an actual sob from the girl next to me. I was learning more about Mary today.
"Are you going to be okay?" I asked quietly, leaning toward her. She'd tried to stifle her cry but I think one of the men heard her and was wondering the same thing.
"Oh no, miss. Please don't cry." The old man John said. Mary was trying to dry her face with a dry dishrag before it drew more attention and before she could even answer me. "I promise you, she went happy. And sure, I was sad, but I sing my heart out to her nearly every night!" He clapped three times. "All of these men sing for our girls." He pat another friend of his on the back. "-Except Frank here sings for his husband, but hey, we all got our differences!"
I grinned and Mary dropped her arms to her sides, a small smile on her face though her eyes were still so glossy. "Your stories are all so beautiful, I couldn't help but cry." She had the attention of all the men now. She said what I was thinking. Stories. History.
"Crying makes you human, m'dear." The man called Frank said. "Just makes your eyelashes longer y'know? That's how I got these here lady lashes!" He bat his eyes at us both, making Mary laugh instead of sob. I loved how these men joked. It was making light of their old worlds while still being funny. Again, I wished I could be like that one day. Their friend group erupted in guffaws and chuckles. A woman came to pay and I took her on so that Mary might have another moment to regather.
After she left, I noticed it was just us and these men, the cooks in the back chatting away because there was nobody to cook for at the moment. I don't know, I hadn't felt this sort of calm before. There was no anticipation for anything at all. It was kind of like being underwater, feeling underwater, but no panic to breathe.
"Feeling better?" I asked Mary. She was leaning against the wall now, just watching over things the way I had just been. Her eyes drifted over to me, still a little red. The clock on the wall just kept moving around and around. It was later now.
"Yes." She chuckled to herself. "I don't know what that was, but it was definitely something. Thank you for asking."
My hands fiddled with each other, "You're welcome. I wasn't doing so well internally either, I was starting to wonder who would tell my story if I were to go first. I was also wondering what stories they'd tell and if they would be embarrassing or odd or true... And I'm not saying this to make you cry again, I promise."
She laughed louder, "I know, I know. You and I have the same thoughts. My first loves were all bitches. I hope my last love ever is the right person to share my stories. There's just something about these men here that is so melancholy but so bright. They're bright on the outside, but you could just see John in pain... " She stopped and cleared her throat. "I look forward to finding my stories, don't you?"
I loved how I spoke like I didn't just break someone out of a highly secured facility less than a week ago. "I can't wait."
When the men started to leave, later on, it was entirely empty. No stoners, no stragglers. What had happened to all the hungry people? I washed off the tables, the counters. Mary went to take her break, but quickly I think she realized there was no reason to. There was nobody to take a break from anymore. This night was so incredibly calm and just overall good, I didn't mind all the dirty cloths I was touching and the remnants of babies and ketchup everywhere.
However, I think the feeling of calm came from the fact I was tired. Just tired from the day, not for any other reason. I'd gardened earlier today, made lunch, exercised, then walked to work and I'd been working for some time now. Once the tables were all cleared and cleaned, I could sit in the back with everyone else.
"Dinner!" One of the cooks, Margaret whooped. She held a plate over her head and handed one to Mary and the other cook Sandra handed me another. A burger and some fries. All three cooks had their own and now, they were feeding us dinner at nearly eleven o'clock.
"Thank you!" Mary and I spoke in unison for the second time today, looked at each other and laughed. Mary was so fun to know. We all passed around the mustard and ketchup and other toppings that the cooks had put into small bowls. Dinner time for all of us.
The cooks decided to take their food to booths instead of the kitchen they'd been working at and of course it wasn't an issue. If anyone showed up, we'd just move back into our places. I took my food to the farthest booth to the window and really, I didn't mind that Mary didn't follow. We needed space too. Except when I had space, I would start to think again. The cogs in my mind would turn and... instead of eating I'd pulled my list of pros and cons out again as well as my pen.
- He likes me too
I added under 'pros'. That was an obvious pro, but it didn't take away the other negatives. I wished that it would, I wished that I wasn't so indecisive about this. I really fucking liked Peter, but I also really hated the idea that I was a person who could fuck things up or get fucked over in the long run. It seemed unfair to even question it, Peter had liked me for so long and I'm sure he already thought he had me locked in, but I was teetering on the edge.
Dating him would be a little different than being friends with him. I would be able to show my care out loud, express it more. I'd be able to kiss him again and I really liked that part. I wouldn't feel ashamed for holding his hand. The biggest issue here was messing up!
What if I was actually bad at kissing or kissed him wrong at some point? What if I hug wrong, smell bad, touch wrong or at the wrong time. What if I invade his space and annoy him as a girlfriend and he sees me as toxic? What if I cared too much and hovered? What if he thought I was clingy?
I ran my hand up to the clip that held my hair in and shook my hair out around me, just to relieve that tension. There were so many things I could do wrong as a girlfriend. Tomorrow, if he said so, I would become that girlfriend. I would be an actual person's significant other and I'd have that weight with me everywhere. Not the weight of Peter, but the weight of being the best significant other possible. To make this last, because I needed it to last. I needed Peter.
So this wasn't fair to me or him. I nearly tore my list up. Internally, I decided that tomorrow would tell me what to do. I told myself now that tomorrow would hold the answers and I just needed to do it. If it went well, it was a yes and if it didn't, I needed to talk to Peter. We'd figure it out then and I pushed my worries to the back of the brain and instead, now began to feel a little excited.
Of course, the thoughts at the back were pretty loud and I couldn't get rid of them when I thought of what clothes to wear. My casual dresses would probably be too casual, my formal dresses were all too old and they probably either wouldn't fit my boobs or the dress would show too much boob. Plus... what was I even doing with Peter? Would my body even need to be thought about? Would he care? I didn't want him to get the wrong impression.
Although I did have a pink dress that wasn't too casual. It was soft, like a loose, long tank-top that fit around my top half, was brought in at the waist, and then was loose around my legs. The length went to my knees and now thinking about it, it would be perfect if I tied my hair up. My heart beat a little faster as I actualized the day tomorrow.
It would go well, I affirmed it. My list went back into my pocket and I actually ate, thinking about it all. It would be good, it would be fun, then I'd know what I want. Easy. So easy. I kept thinking about him and tomorrow and all of it, but there was so much to not know yet. Like... when would I be able to tell my mother about Peter's confession? I wanted to, but it was better that if things went wrong, it would be like it never happened. So I chose to decide that tomorrow too.
I was a normal person, I was trying to convince myself. These were probably normal insecurities. I really wished Sylvia was here right now because she'd tell my internal dark force to shut up and it probably would. Sylvia would know exactly what to do. She was the matchmaker after all. But for now I had to deal with every thought that entered my mind alone. I would be okay, I would be just fine, this should be normal for someone who has never dated anyone.
I was excited.
No more customers came in for the rest of the night, the cooks left at 11:50. Together, Mary and I made sure that nobody was hiding in the bathrooms or in the cupboards, tidied up, put the remnants of the food away and sanitized the surfaces again. She hummed a cheery tune while she went and it kept me uplifted from the remembrance I'd be walking home at midnight alone.
"Where are the keys again?" She asked once finished. She was grabbing her brown coat from the hooks at the back as she did so, picking up her other things and putting them in her pockets.
I reached behind me onto the wall and picked up the keys. Three keys on a green lanyard. I tossed them to her. "Right here. The blue one is for the bathrooms, the red one is for the back door, and the yellow one is for the front door. I used to get the front and back mixed up, but you figure it out when the lock doesn't click."
I didn't bring anything, so I waited for her to lock the bathrooms and the back door. Then she walked to the front to meet me and I held the door for her. She nearly hit her head on the frame of the door, that's how tall she was. Standing near her made me feel like I was at risk of being stepped on and that thought made me laugh to myself as I stood back for her. "What's so funny?" She asked, turning around. I didn't notice that we'd started walking out of the parking lot together.
"I was thinking about whether or not I'd get stepped on if I didn't move," I informed her honestly. She laughed at it, which made me laugh again. "I don't mean any offence, though. If anything, I'm just... short."
"You are a little underfoot," she joked back. We were heading the same way, it seemed. "Tonight was actually fun. I love working here, hearing the stories, telling vegetarian women to fuck off... and you, you're too nice to me already." She nudged me in the arm. "Thank you for understanding things and listening."
She was too nice to me. "It's no issue, really."
"No, it is to me." Her tone changed. It was firm. "Thank you."
"You're welcome..." I answered. I was forced to, but I did mean it if it affected her this much. She was very grateful, it seemed. "Thank you for trusting me."
Her feet kicked pebbles the way one would when bored, but I knew she couldn't be. The night was a little chilly but otherwise nice. There was a soft wind that blew the loose hairs around my face in an upwards spiral. To my surprise, Mary changed the topic entirely. "So you and the Peter guy who I thought was a dick but turns out to be your 'best friend'?" She had that tone of voice that made me realize she was yet another person who saw through me. High-pitched, teasing. It wasn't like I had to deny any of it anymore, so it was hard to hide the immediate grin.
"We have a thing... maybe," I replied. She was in the place of Sylvia, so what harm was there in saying? But a thing? Maybe? Was that what it was? "Okay, I mean, we like each other, we do, but we aren't dating."
"Ah!" Her shriek was high-pitched too. It almost seemed ingenuine, but looking at her face it might have been. It was a quick change of pace from moments ago but it didn't matter much. If she didn't want to talk about that anymore, that was entirely fine with me. I wouldn't push. "I mean, if he's not a dick like you said he isn't, if you like each other why aren't you dating?"
"I have a date with him tomorrow?" I let her have that and I shoved my hands into my pockets, shrugging inwardly. I could feel the list of reasons why in my pocket. My grin wouldn't leave, though. "I don't know his plans, though. I'm excited but I'm going to look so tired tomorrow."
Mary seemed so cheery. Maybe I was just tired. "Good luck with that! And oh, ice your face as soon as you wake up. It really helps with everything. Also, chamomile tea bags over your eyes in the morning. It gets rid of the puffiness so quickly." She started to go the way opposite to my house. This was where we parted for the night. "I hope everything goes well and you're more than welcome to update me another day!" She called. It was too loud for midnight, but I didn't mind.
"I will," I smiled and waved. "Goodnight, Mary!"
"Night, Venus!"
And I walked the rest of the way home thinking about Peter. Him, this date, our slow-burning romance issues. As they do, the negative thoughts rose and fell- so did the good thoughts. I let them come and go because I was getting more and more tired by the minute. Once home, I barely could wash my face or get undressed as I travelled the dark house.
There is one thought I recalled before I crashed in my bed and that was,
'Peter can drive again tomorrow. Scary.'
It would probably be chaotic. But that would probably be the least of my worries tomorrow... or rather... today. It was midnight after all. The day had just begun.