A few hours later the lobby intercom buzzed and I pried myself out of the couch and mashed the button with my thumb.
"Yeah?"
"It's me."
"I'm sorry, I don't know anyone named 'Me.'" I replied. It was Katherine, waiting to be let inside. Dopamine and adrenaline were already measuring themselves in higher doses. At least that part of my biochemistry hadn't changed.
"Your dad jokes aren't funny and If you make me climb the drainpipe again, I'm going to kill you. You promised me a movie and snacks."
"I never said anything about snacks."
"That's not how I remember it. Are you going to let me in, or should I start writing your obituary?"
I grinned and pressed the button to unlock the street door, then unlatched my apartment's deadbolt and returned to my seat, wrapping myself in the illusion of indifference to keep me from feeling or appearing anxious. I didn't think for a second that a little enthusiasm might chase her off, she wasn't that sort of person, but it would get in the way of the relaxed comfort we enjoyed in each other's company.
She let herself in without knocking then began to shrug off her light jacket, and my greeting froze in my mouth. Those sparks of light blurred and danced around the corners of my vision, giving the scene a strange, dreamlike quality, and she must have seen something in my expression because she froze too.
"What?" she asked, her arm half out of one sleeve.
I couldn't answer right away. She seemed to glow. Her eyes were sharp and bright, and her long, blonde hair shone as though it reflected sunlight rather than the dim incandescent bulb over the dining table. I could almost feel the soft, smooth texture of her skin from across the room and her curves—I had to pull hard against my thoughts to get them back under control.
"Earth to Thomas, what's wrong?" a hint of concern crept into her voice, "Do I have a mustard stain on my shirt?"
"You hate mustard," I said automatically.
"That's why it would be weird. What's up with you?" She let the jacket drop into her hands and hung it over the back of a chair before joining me in the living room.
"Nothing, I... I mean, you... you're beautiful."
"Yeah," she shrugged, "and?"
Her answer broke me free from whatever spell had robbed me of my senses, and I laughed. Even the sparks in my vision receded. "You just look really nice."
She stopped short of the sofa and glanced down at herself. "I look like I did yesterday. What changed?"
"Nothing, I guess I don't always appreciate you as much as I do right now."
Katherine made a face and dropped onto the cushion next to me. "That's a problem, Thomas. This might fall under the adoration amendment, which lets me dump you if I begin to question your mindless devotion to me."
"I'm locked in for six months," I reminded her. "I'm protected by section four, article two, of the no-dumping clause."
Her expression twisted in feigned annoyance. "I'll have my lawyers call your lawyers. About those snacks?"
"Are cookies okay?"
She looked surprised, "Cookies? Like animal crackers?"
"No, I went a little crazy and bought an assortment."
"Like for real? Chocolate chips and everything?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm trying to shake things up a little."
How much could I tell her about the past day and a half? I met this weird woman who gave me some magic tea, which I drank despite my better judgment and now I'm cured, so I thought I'd buy some cookies... Maybe I wasn't quite ready to share.
"I promise not to throw up on you," I assured her. "I'll just have a bite, it'll be fine." Katherine hesitated but the call of sugar won out. She looked into the little kitchen then back at me, eyebrow raised. "Top cupboard next to the fridge," I said helpfully.
She was up again and in the kitchen while I began packing away the artifacts still spread across my coffee table, surprised she hadn't mentioned them. She was probably more worried about me since change, in my case, wasn't usually for the better. After half a minute of rustling plastic, she returned with three fudge stripes and dropped into a cushion, crossing her legs under her.
She wore skinny jeans and a t-shirt which was unusual during the week. On a typical school day, she'd be in skirts and button-down shirts with the explanation that it felt right. I knew she'd attended a private school with a dress code before college and some habits had a harder time letting go than others.
"When did you ever climb a drainpipe," I asked casually as I fished the remote from under a seat cushion.
"I'm sure it happened at least one time," she bit one of the cookies in half and passed the rest to me. It. Was. Delicious. My nine-year-old self and his love for chocolate rippled across the surface of my memories, but I quickly dismissed them before I started daydreaming again.
"I would have remembered you coming through the window. What do you want to watch?"
"Cutting to the chase?" Katherine asked through cookie crumbs.
"Isn't that why you came over?"
She didn't reply, she just sat quietly, munching away with an odd expression, staring at a blank television screen.
"Um," I went on, awkward in the unexpected silence, "The one with the—um—that new fantasy series. I heard it's supposed to be good."
"No," she shook her head, having read my thoughts before I could remember the title, "not in the mood to geek out tonight, it's been a long week."
"It's Monday."
That earned me one of her withering looks. "It's been a long week."
"Alright, then you choose," I surrendered. "What's on the menu?"
"How about Bay City Bae?"
"Seriously?" I wasn't familiar with the new show except for ads on TV and social media, and it looked ridiculous: a teen drama about a group of rich kids and the adventures that arise from everyone trying to date everyone else. I got the impression it was on the sleazy side, and that wasn't Katherine's style.
"Unless you'd rather not," she added. I might have imagined it, but she seemed very slightly disappointed.
"I guess we can try it, it's just not like the stuff we usually watch together."
"Then that'll make it more interesting. You said you were shaking things up, right?" She held up the last cookie.
"I guess I did. Okay, Bay City Bae coming up."
Katherine leaned into the cushions opposite me on the narrow sofa. She wasn't avoiding me, it had become our normal movie-watching posture and I was fine with it. Our relationship wasn't particularly physical and that had seemed to suit us both.
Until that night.
I kept feeling anxious urges to hold her hand or put my arm around her shoulders. I itched to feel her against my skin, which came with a quick pang of guilt. The suddenness of it made the desires seem more carnal than romantic, and I didn't want that to be the thing that advanced our relationship. I kept my hands firmly to myself.
The program didn't disappoint. The writing was cheesy, the characters two dimensional, and at least half of it was unintentionally funny. There were moments that they tried to pass off as romance but nearly qualified as softcore porn, and those amplified my discomfort.
It wasn't as though Katherine and I never touched. We even shared the occasional quick kiss that reminded me I wasn't stuck in her friend zone. Of course, I was sexually attracted to her and I hoped she felt the same, but that was a future target when the risk was at least manageable, and I wasn't ready, mentally or emotionally, to declare myself healed just to pursue more passionate activities. What we had was precious to me, and I would approach any changes to it carefully.
The pilot episode came and went and took a few of my brain cells with it, but we still had a good time. Giggling over the ending, Katherine excused herself to the kitchen for another cookie.
"Do you have anything to go with this?" She peeked a hand around the partition wall and held up a chocolate-covered disk.
"Ketchup?"
"Don't be a jerk, you know what I mean. Is there milk?"
"You're closer than I am. You know you don't need to ask to go through my refrigerator.'
"I just don't want to find any body parts in there, Doctor Corwen."
It took some effort to keep a straight face, "Don't worry, I clean it out every Tuesday."
"It's only Monday."
"It's been a long week," I answered, tossing her earlier words back at her.
"You, sir, are an ass," she replied, followed by more noise from the kitchen, some rummaging, a little clanking, and then a pop and a hiss that took me a second to recognize. Katherine came back with a cookie and beverage and reclaimed her spot on the sofa.
"You weren't kidding, this is certainly different." She held out her beer in an imaginary toast, and I suddenly craved it, though I'd never tasted it before. I clinked an imaginary glass against her can and she took a sip. "We need to work on your taste though, this stuff is swill."
"I was told it's the most popular beer in America."
"Only if you count alcoholic rednecks." She took another drink, then set it down on the table. "Are you sure everything is okay with you? Cookies and beer? Should I be worried?"
"Why would you worry about cookies and beer?"
She pointed a toe at the can on my coffee table, "That could literally kill you, Thomas. You know I don't like to nag, but I'm not excited about having to visit you in the hospital because you were stupid."
She was right—or would have been if I'd never met Miss Gold. But then I wouldn't have had a beer in the fridge, and we wouldn't be discussing it.
"Do you see me drinking it?" I asked. She gave me a level look that told me she wasn't having any of my crap, so I sighed and told her what she wanted to hear. "I got it for guests. Maybe I'll have a sip to see what it tastes like, but I'm not about to throw away a decade of hard work over chocolate and alcohol."
She softened but didn't seem convinced. "You never have guests except for me."
"And here you are drinking my beer and eating my cookies." I felt I scored a solid point, and she must have agreed because she looked away without answering.
"Alright Thomas, I trust you. Just, "she half turned, apprehension etched across her face, "tell me if you need anything, okay? Anything. Don't do something you know will mess you up just to try and feel normal." She put out her hand to stop me from interrupting, "I'm not saying that's what you're doing, I'm just asking you to come to me first for—whatever. Okay?"
Once again, she had me pinned down. I didn't want to tell her I was better because I couldn't be sure that was true. "I hear you," I said, "and I promise."
She nodded, satisfied, "Good. And you need to remember you're not as weird as you think you are. Everyone has their issues."
We'd had that discussion many times before and I rolled my eyes dramatically. "I doubt a person who has trouble balancing their checkbook can identify with someone who breaks furniture when they mistake a doctor for an ninja assassin."
"Okay," she replied in a lofty tone, "let's get your therapist on the phone and see what he has to say."
I grudgingly conceded the point to her, though I hated when she pulled that card. Dr. Dang would of course take her side, citing the mantra he spent years beating into my head. With the score even I decided to cut my losses and drop the subject.
"So what now?" I asked. "It's still early."
Katherine took another sip of beer, set it back on the table, and leaned into her cushion, "Next episode?"
"You complain about my beer selection and you want to watch more of that trash?"
"It wasn't all bad," she said. "Well, the part about . . ." she hesitated and pursed her lips, "No, it was pretty much all terrible. But it was fun, and I want to see what happens to Marco."
"You mean Beefy McHunknuts?"
Katherine laughed and hit me with a throw pillow, "So what if he's hot? I'm not sitting here watching TV with him, am I?"
"I'm beginning to wonder," I said. She knew I wasn't jealous, and even if I were, we both agreed never to weaponize our feelings against each other. It made my internal distress over Shelly in the lab seem absurd.
"You're hunky in your own way, Thomas. You're tall and charming, you make me laugh, and you're the smartest guy I know. You're very handsome too, have I ever told you that?"
"I don't recall. It's always been enough that you're here." She smiled and a hint of pink crept into her cheeks. The beer must have been affecting her already, Katherine seldom blushed. "But if you'd rather be on a beach with McHunknuts," I added, gesturing at the television, and she hit me with the pillow again. I grinned and fiddled with the remote to find the next episode of Bay City Bae.
Thomas?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Do you really think I'm pretty?"
The question stunned me. "You're not that modest, Kath, you know you're gorgeous."
"I want to hear you say it," she answered, a little sheepish, not in character at all.
"Then I'll sing it from the balcony," I said, ignoring the fact that I didn't have one. "You're dazzling. Stunning. You're the standard by which all the beauty in the world is judged—" she held up the pillow again and I put my hands up to defend myself.
"Okay, I'm sorry, that was corny," I agreed, "but it doesn't mean it isn't true. You..." I hesitated, looking for the right words. "Of course you're pretty, but I don't like using that word because you're more than eye candy. You could have had any whole person you wanted, but you chose to let a broken one into your life." She began to object but I cut her off. "Don't argue with me, you know what I'm saying. You're uncommonly compassionate, you get my humor and give it back twice as hard, you're a dedicated worker but you're always ready to play, and you know your worth but it hasn't gone to your head." I paused to stop the words from spilling out. "Katherine, I can't picture a person more perfectly exquisite than you, and that's the honest truth."
She looked at me, her face blank as if unable to comprehend, then she smiled shyly, and her blush returned.
"And," I went on, "You have a really, really nice caboose."
I learned that evening that a pillow to the face, if swung hard enough, can give you a nosebleed, but I'd have endured a hundred times worse for a tenth of her smile.
The next episode was less a jovial romp through badly written television and more a series of unspoken questions and furtive looks back and forth on our side of the screen. It didn't completely undermine our comfort, but neither of us had been behaving normally, and that set me on edge. At one point, Katherine reached over and took my hand. I didn't know who it was meant to reassure, but it helped and I squeezed back. After that, we both seemed to relax a little.
"Well, that was painful," I said as the credits started to roll, and turned to grin at Katherine. She sat limply, eyes unfocused and staring, her mouth slack with a trickle of drool at one corner.
"Katherine?" Panic I hadn't felt since before I drank the tea surged through me like lightning and those stupid lights returned, spiraling across my vision. "Katherine!" Taking her by the shoulders, I shook her gently until her head slowly turned. She looked up, then after several seconds, her eyes widened, and she smiled.
"Oh hi, Thomas," she giggled and bit her lip. I nearly cried in relief.
"Katherine, what's the matter? What's wrong?" I reflexively scanned her body looking for evidence of physical harm. When I had an episode, doctors always checked my body before they worried about my brain.
"Me? Fine." Her head wobbled and she blinked rapidly.
"Are you drunk?" I picked up her beer. it was still nearly full.
"Pshhh! Noooo, why would I be drink? I din' even—" She paused and squinted, then looked up at me wide eyed and deadly serious. "I have to pee!"
She had trouble walking so I helped her to the bathroom where she tried to get me to undress her, but after unbuttoning her jeans I left her to handle the rest until she shouted, "I'm done!" so loud I swear every other tenant must have heard.
"Kath, what happened, what's . . ."
She opened the door and practically fell into my arms. "Tom . . . Thomas, I think," she squinted into my face, trying to focus, "I think I need to go home."
"We should call a doctor, Kath."
"No! No, please, it—just—can we just go?" She looked past me to the door, then back. She seemed to focus better but her words slurred. "Really, I'm okay, I just—where's my jacket?"
"On the chair." I thought she should get help, but I'd had plenty of experience with hospitals and unless she'd been poisoned, and that didn't seem to be the case, they'd just tell her to walk it off. Maybe I could find a compromise. I guided her into the kitchen and helped her get an arm into her jacket, then called her dorm's RA while she wrestled with the other.
"Yeah, what?" Rachel answered. She wasn't being rude, it was just her way. I paused while I ushered Katherine into the hall with the phone under my chin.
"Rach, it's Tom. Something's wrong with Katherine. She's acting strange and wants to go back to the dorm, but I don't want to just drop her off. Can I bring her to your room?"
Rachel mumbled a curse, "The hell you to do her?"
I put her on speaker so I could use both hands to help Katherine. "Nothing, but she shouldn't stay here." Rachel knew the extent of my illness and why it might not be a good idea for me to look after someone who wasn't in full control of themselves. I might have felt fine, but if I relapsed I could hurt her without meaning to.
"Fine, bring her over. Is she sick or did she just drink too much?"
"Neither, as far as I can tell. She just started acting strange then asked to go home. I'm not sure what else to do." I picked up the phone and half carried Katherine through the door.
Rachel cursed again, "Of course I'll watch her, but I want to know everything that happened and if I even suspect you hurt her, I'm putting your balls in a vice."
"Balls," Katherine echoed absently, "Hot diggity balls." I held most of her weight with one arm and tried to keep from dropping my phone while navigating the dim staircase.
"I'm taking you to stay with Rachel okay?"
Katherine gasped and clapped her hands, "Oh, yay! You should stay with! We can play naked bingo!"
"What the hell is . . . hang on. Yeah Rachel, sorry."
"Naked? Bingo?" Rachel asked, pronouncing each word as a question. The steel had completely gone from her voice, replaced with stunned disbelief.
"I have no idea, I told you she was acting weird." We had reached the bottom step without falling over each other, and I began walking Katherine to the front door.
"Alright step on it Tom, get her the hell over here."