Mr. Babydoll and the journals of his inner blizzard [peterick]

XXIII

Joe and Andy were reported as missing. At first the police was pretty unimpressed by our story, but their opinion seemed to have changed after they did some further investigation. Joe had left his house with the lights still on and no money had been drawn from any of his accounts. The mailbox was in danger of falling off the wall because of the massive weight of all the newspapers and letters that had been left in there. Not to forget that he had not been showing up at work in almost two weeks now. Andy's parents reported that their son, who was known to struggle with serious depressive episodes, had not talked to them in 4 weeks and they didn't know where he was due to him not responding to their phone calls.

All these facts and rumours only reached me halfway. The atmosphere at work was strained. No one was making jokes or tried being funny in any way. It made feel like back in school where three kids were forced to work on a project together and the whole ordeal was just overall pretty forced, drained of any kind of chemistry.

Hayley's face appeared a lot more pale than usual which caused her hair to seem somewhat fiery. Fiery like her personality used to be. She didn't talk to me all day, in fact the only time she spoke was when it was necessary to interact with costumers. I miss her.

Gabe started to piss me off. Sometimes I would walk into the kitchen and they were both there. He would approach her and pull her into a quick hug while she was trying to walk past him. It was somewhat obvious that she really wasn't feeling it, but she didn't try to free herself or even scold him, wether it was out of the desire to avoid conflict or because she was simply too tired. No matter what it was, Gabe just didn't get the hint. Every time this situation had occurred, I tried to give him looks of disapproval, but he just didn't get it.

I tried to give Hayley her space since the thing with Joe really seemed to mess with her. I would love to be able to help, but I'm simply not and I would make everything worse. The disappearance of my friend and coworker gave me a feeling best described by imagining what an overdose on guilt would feel like. All these investigations going on and all the questions the officer had asked me made me feel like I knew nothing about Joe and how he lived his life. Wishing I would've done more for him like trying to ask him about his problems was useless now. Nothing would solve itself by the bare hands of my regret.

In short: Working in this coffee shop had started to be a pain in the ass. I wrote down everything that bothered me with the wonderful pens Patrick gave me. I found comfort in writing even if it didn't make anything better. If it did, I'd be addicted to it like others are to heroin.
Me and Patrick had started seeing each other every evening, but we had stopped limiting ourselves to the restaurant long ago. Sometimes we would walk trough the park when it started to get dark, saw movies, or just sat on the stone cold steps of the St. Anthony church and drink cheap wine like tonight.

At one point the only source of light was a street lantern a few meters away from the stairs. The sky was dark and cold and full of stars. Penny, Patrick's dog, calmly watched the gnats dancing in the dim street light and the alcohol was getting to my head.
"If I ever get the chance, I'd leave this place in a heartbeat." I said and went for another gulp of wine from the bottle because we forgot to bring glasses.

"But I just came here." Patrick replied, pouting in a humorous fashion before laughing. "Ok, but for real. Why?"
"Because I've never been anywhere else."

"I like it here." Patrick said while ruffling Penny's fur after she had walked up to him. "That's always how it starts out. You start to like it here because it seems to be like every other town, but if you spend enough time here...you'll realise how crazy everyone is." I told him. He nodded, seeming to be deep in thought before he continued.

"Every place has its own kind of people with their own kind of mentality, but I haven't really noticed a pattern yet. What exactly would you define as crazy, Pete?"
My mind started to rattle like rusty cogs inside of a clock. "Mmh." I started as I put my bottle aside. "You know, they all seem to have their own kind of language. They all think in the same ways and someone needs to do or say something and someone else completely understands and follows up with something fitting and reasonable and it all turns out to be a perfectly working structure made of cogs and strings of do's and don'ts. It's like they're programmed to work that way, just not me. I don't get it."

I stumbled over my own words, wondering if I had said a sentence twice or at all, but Patrick listened to me, paying close attention to everything I was saying as if it was some precious knowledge that he could be in danger of not comprehending if his mind would drift off even for a second.
"So you feel like the entire town is a sworn community full of people who are constructed to perfectly read each other's minds and actions and it's all truly perfect to the point where you yourself feel completely lost?" he asked and his bottle was half empty or half full, depending on who you ask.

"Well it's perfect in the sense that it works out like a scheduled program. It's not perfect, meaning it's good." I explained. "But yeah, it makes me feel lost."

"That's a tough one." Patrick opined. "Is there another place you're closer to? Like...emotionally?"

In this moment I turned stone cold sober. Something struck my mind like lightning, but that wasn't it. "Not that I know of" I replied hoarsely. I was aware that I didn't belong here.

"Like I said, I've never been somewhere else." I said, but no I knew that that was a lie.
"Pete?" I noticed him looking at me differently. "I want you to know something before I regret it."

My heart did its own thing. What would he possibly want to tell me. That I was out of my mind, so he didn't want to be associated with me? That we should stay friends? That I was going too fast?

He sat down his bottle of wine beside him. "I know how you feel about me."

I am going too fast.

"And this is not a form of rejection, I promise you that."

I am going too fast.

"But I would gladly let things go their way if you were okay to..wait for me?"

I blinked and looked up.
I wonder if humans will ever be able to count the stars. Someday.

"Pete, are you crying?" His voice was drawn by sympathy and I could feel his hand on my leg. I shouldn't make this worse.
"I can wait for you, I would wait a thousand years and beyond that." I replied and I meant it I really did.
"Don't wait until it breaks you." he said to me while I was counting the stars in his eyes. "Wait until I'm ready or until you find out it's not worth your time."

I nodded and I promised, but I knew that deep down I was lying. I would wait until it would tear me into pieces, I knew that.

I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't.

—————————————————
Gold teeth and a curse for this town
We're all in my mouth
Only I don't know how
They got out, dear
-New Slang, the Shins