After listening to the entirety of my "CHILL JAM$" playlist not once, but twice in a row, Jeremy finally showed up. He looked absolutely miserable.
Christine instantly stood up, ran over to him, and engulfed him in a hug. He weakly wrapped his arms around her neck and stuffed his face into the crook of her shoulders. Jeremy is a whole one and a half heads taller than her, so this would be pretty comical if it weren't for the fact that Jeremy looked like he wanted the pavement to swallow him up.
I awkwardly move over towards the hugging pile and put an arm on Jeremy's shoulders. I don't know how to comfort him physically at all, but Goddamnit, I'm going to try.
I hear Christine whisper a repetitive mantra that sounds vaguely like "It's going to be okay" over and over again. Damn, Christine is suspiciously prepared for this. There's no way this can happen that often, right?
Then Jeremy pulled away and he gave Christine a weak smile: "I, uh... my dad's going to g-go visit some family friends. He, uh... he needs some... su-support. Right now. You guys wanna go play Kirby Dream Course or, uh, or s-something?
He's obviously upset, so I try to get him to elaborate on it: "You wanna talk about it?"
"I..." he sighs, "I don't know. I don't know why I thought the doctor would even allow me to through with it. I just want this... this thing out of my body. I don't know. I guess I got a bit too optimistic. I don't know anymore. Let's go play some Kirby."
And that was the end of that.
We ended up squashed together on the couch, all previous tension in the air slowly dwindling away until the only tension that came from the situation was me getting pissed off at Jeremy because of how good he is at Kirby Dream Course. Like seriously. It's inhumane.
Jeremy either had amazingly beyond average luck, or he has spent night and day playing and practicing this game for all seventeen years he has been alive. I think it's a crazy combination of the former and the latter, but either way, I started getting competitive.
"What the fuck, how the fuck, how do you get three fucking stars in one round. This is bullshit," I start running my mouth, as Christine yells encouragement in my ear and shoves popcorn in my mouth.
I hear Jeremy giggle, as my character somehow passes out for the second time these last few rounds. I essentially just got two Lose A Turns in a row. Jeremy decides to comment on this: "Wow. What a tragedy," he said sarcastically.
"I am going to report you to the authorities."
"Go ahead."
"You're hacking."
"Yeah, Michael. I'm using kill aura on Kirby fricking Dream Course. Sure."
"You can say fuck."
Jeremy tsked, "I can't swear. A child is here."
"Oh. Christine?" My character finally doesn't pass out for the round, I aim my character and try to get a decent hit. One of Jeremy's stars isn't too far away from me. If luck is on my side, I'll be able to get it pretty easily.
"No, me."
"You literally said the word shit, like a week ago."
"Yes. It is my biggest regret."
I can't come up with any specific targeted insults, so I say the first thing that comes to mind: "I am going to shove a closed umbrella down your throat, and then I'm going to open it."
I shoot my character, and it ends up hitting the star. I hear a loud cheer from Christine, and I look over at Jeremy and he has this massive smile on his face: "Good job, dude! That was a good shot."
"What the fuck? You're not allowed to be wholesome? You're supposed to tell me to go rip all my toenails off? This is against the law?"
"What's the point of you ripping your toenails off? You probably have extra anyway."
"Jeremy, that's the most terrifying thing I've heard in my entire seventeen years of living."
Christine has been eerily quiet. I don't know much about the girl, but from what I've seen it's unlike her to stay so silent. Except for the odd here and there little: "You can do it!" she was being suspiciously calm.
Jeremy must've realized, because he looked nervous: "Oh God, Christine. You're quiet. What are you planning?"
"Does Michael know how to knit?" She asks.
Jeremy looks at me for confirmation and I shake my head. He replies: "No."
Christine's eyes light up. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into, "Michael! We have to teach you how to knit! Jeremy and I have already made like, fishtail friendship bracelets for each other, but that's old-school. We can knit like a really really miniature scarf, and then we can have like, super radical knitted friendship bracelets!"
"Oh, yeah, let's do that! Michael?" Jeremy looks at me, waiting for me to agree to this.
"I mean, uh, yeah, sure." Whatever, it sounds like fun. If I come home and I tell my moms I know how to knit now, they'll probably force Christine and Jeremy to come over as much as possible, because they'll think that they are beneficial to my social skills somehow, and I am 100% not complaining about that.
"Alright, what colour do you guys want?" Christine asks, taking out her backpack and rummaging around in it.
"Pink, please," Jeremy says.
"Pastel?"
"What do you think?"
Christine puts an entire ball of pastel pink wool in the middle of our make-shift circle that we've created, and it seemed like excessively too much wool if all we're making is a friendship bracelet.
"Alright, Michael. What do you want?"
"Do you have like, hot pink?"
Christine somehow magically has some, even though hot pink wool sound like a cryptid gone wrong. She takes some green for herself, because 'pink and green are complimentary colours, Jeremy! I don't care if it doesn't fit with the pink scheme!'
"Okay, I'll make a friendship bracelet for Michael, Jeremy, you make one for me, and then Michael can make one for Jeremy," she looks up at us for clarification. Damn. They take this shit seriously.
Jeremy nods like this is his first day in military camp and the chief just asked if they are willing to give up their lives for their country. I nod like the cashier asked me if I wanted a bag for my groceries.
So now I'm sitting here, working with some pastel pink wool, holding two sticks that look like a wild combination of drum sticks and chopsticks, all rolled into one little item of elderly fun.
Christine laid out the basics for me, and knitting ended up being surprisingly easy. She had to begin for me, because God knows I'll never be able to make the hook that you're supposed to start off with. The rest of the process was pretty easy going though.
We talked about video games, and bad movies, and why the 80's was arguably the worst and best time in the universe ever, and how twistable crayons are useless and should vanish from the face of the earth, all while knitting.
"Not gonna lie, this is fun," I finally admit. If I told thirteen-year-old me that in the future I would be sitting with a couple of pals, knitting, he'd call me a loser. Which I probably am, but hey. I've been worse.
"Michael, I've known you for like what? Four hours? But I'd totally die for you," Christine announced.
"Your love is requited. I would trust you with my firstborn child," I reply.
Jeremy furrows his brow and ticks the pride patch sewed onto my hoodie, "Firstborn? You are gay? How would you have a child? You mean first-adopted?"
"Exactly. I don't have to trust her with my firstborn child if I don't end up having one. She, however, has a life, and if given the chance, as she has promised, she must die for me. She has pledged that she would die for me, and I have pledged my firstborn child who will never exist. I get free service, and I don't have to give anything in return."
Christine shrugged, "All is fair in love and war, I guess."
After a few seconds of mindless mumbling, Christine announced that she was done, and Jeremy was shortly after. I took a full ten minutes more than they did to finish mine, but considering it was my first time, I was strangely proud of myself. I just knitted something. That's pretty rad.
We all exchange bracelets, and I suddenly feel vastly inferior, because after Christine gives me the bracelet she made for me, I realize she used tons of different greens and did a bunch of cool braid designs. I tried to be all fancy with mine, but compared to Christine it was pretty mediocre.
Despite my insecure knitting, Jeremy announced: "I am going to be wearing this every single day of my life ever."
"Now, that we're done knitting, does this mean..." Christine smiled in Jeremy's direction.
"No way. You brought some bootlegs?" Jeremy gasped melodramatically. Oh my god. I love these dorks.
She flashed the USB drive just in our peripheral vision, fidgeting with it excitedly. It had a big heart on it and it said in big bold letters on the lid: "MB," which by process of elimination I could only assume stood for "Musical Bootlegs."
"Michael! We give you the honours. You know I explained all the musicals to you, right? Which one do you wanna watch?" Christine throws the USB stick at me at approximately 70m/ph.
"Uh... which one was the gay one?"
"They're all gay."
"Y'know, the one with the AIDS?"
"That's either Falsettos or Rent. Which one?"
"Uhhh, you said Tracie Thoms plays in it, right?"
"Tracie Thoms plays in both of them."
I rack my brain, trying to remember any information Christine gave me: "You said she plays a lesbian."
"She plays a lesbian in both of them."
"It has like crazy fever dream music."
"That's Falsettos!" Christine looks over to Jeremy, whose smile completely drops, "Oh, come on, Jere. You've watched this musical a million times."
"Doesn't matter. I'm gonna cry."
"So will Michael, so it's okay." Christine pats his head
Suddenly I register what she said: "Wait what?"
"Oh yeah, it's sad one," Chritine clarifies, after I already picked the musical, leaving me with no way to take back my answer, in other words I have doomed not only myself, but Jeremy, and quite possibly the rest of my endorphins.
"Maybe we shouldn't watch that one then—"
Jeremy suddenly interrupted: "No, no! It's really good, promise. Sorry. I think you'll like it, Mishi."
I freeze. "Wait. Mishi?"
"Yeah? Oh sorry, is that a weird nickna—"
"No! Uh, that's, uhm..." I look at Christine unsurely, and she's urging me to go on. Ugh. She knows exactly what's going on. My eyes snap back to Jeremy, "That's really cute."
Jeremy stares at me for a second and smiles, and thank the Lord for Christine, because she interjects hastily: "Alright! Falsettos time!"
Jeremy's stare lingers on me for a second longer and then he shakes his head, snapping out of it, "Oh, uh, I'll get some blankets."
This sleepover is going to be the death of me.