CHRYSALIS

1. Part One

Oct. 2020

I should probably sit up. I'm sure this isn't good for my already damaged brain...plus I look like a dumbass.

"I think I'm getting better at this!" I say while trying not to choke on the goldfish crackers that Nicki is throwing into my open mouth. I'm currently upside down, hanging off my couch, because what else is there to do on a Thursday night at 11 pm?

"Excuse you?, you aren't doing shit! I'm the one doing all the work! If anyone is improving in skill it would be ME."

Nicki sticks her tongue out at me from her perfectly plump lips while she aims the next cracker at the back of my throat.

I met Nicki 3 years ago at training for my last job and we became instant friends.

She's stunningly beautiful, with her naturally dark curls and a perfect dusting of freckles across her olive skin. Her body is home to a smattering of colorful tattoos and holds a heart the size of the Grand Canyon, but it's buried just as deep.

I absolutely adore her and I knew as soon as she told me she ended things Phil, that she would move to LA with me. Her reckless tendencies overpowered her anxiety and she was ready for sunshine and a change of scenery just as much as I was.

We've been here just over 8 months now and if I'm being honest it hasn't quite lived up to my expectations..

That's a fucking understatement! It's been 8 months and I haven't done any life changing shit. I'm basically the same person I was at home but now I have a higher risk of skin cancer and a smoothie addiction.

Yeah, ok so it's been a little boring.

We love our little apartment though. We could only afford a 1 bedroom so the living room is kind of my domain now and it works just fine for us. I'm currently laying on a small, brown, leather loveseat that has a very mid-century modern vibe that I love. We found it at a thrift store along with my dresser, which acts as our entertainment center, and Nicki's nightstand.

We have a few things here that I brought from the old apartment, the green velvet wingback chair that Nicki is sitting in being one of them. I also brought my record player, and my throw pillows cause why not?

Our taste is quite eclectic, Nicki loves her house plants so we have far too many of those in our tiny place and I love ornate mirrors so we have too many of those as well. Neither one of us has figured out how to like things in a mature way, once we like it we're pretty much obsessed.

A golden yellow curtain separates my bed from this small sitting area but it's usually tied back unless we have company... which is rare. We have colorful rugs and faux fur rugs and lots of mis-matched furniture pieces. It's cozy. It's usually a mess. It's home.

Nicki works at a local coffee chain, tapping back into her barista roots, and does lash extensions on the side to make more money. I work the oh so glamorous job of receptionist at a higher end salon downtown, which means our apartment usually smells like a mixture of hairspray, coffee, plant dirt, and my cashmere vanilla candles that I hoard from target.

My job is more stressful than it sounds, and by the time I get home I'm pretty much wiped out, which does not leave me much time for things like ohhh I don't know...fun?

I don't make time for fun because I'm comfortable being a boring, basic, bitch actually. But we can go with the tired thing, I'm okay with it.

So here we are, on a Thursday night, throwing goldfish in our messy apartment.

I can't believe it's almost been a whole year. A whole year without Marcus. Without a single word to or from him. My mind flashes to a hazy memory of the nights I used to spend reading in that green chair.

Marcus would come home from work and smile as he shook his head at me, taking in my reading uniform of an oversized sweatshirt and no pants. He'd kiss my temple and set his things down so I could finish my page and then-

Ugh why am I thinking about him right now?

"Nic, did you know that when caterpillars are in the wrap thingy waiting to become butterflies, they turn themselves into a soupy, liquid substance so they can completely rebuild themselves?...I think I'm soupy."

"I think you need to sit the fuck up, your brain is detaching." She raised one eyebrow at me in judgment.

"No I'm serious!" I say as I struggle to sit my self back up and get turned around to face her.

"I really think I'm soupy. How long before I get to emerge like a beautiful butterfly?"I ask in my best impression of the caterpillar from A Bugs Life.

"I really think you're crazy. You left your life, quit your job, drained your savings and all the money your grandfather left you to travel all over Europe and Australia, and then moved to a whole new state. I think you emerged, bitch" she says while throwing more goldfish at me, making a mess on our floor.

Oh my sweet, sweet, grandpa. What would he think of me now?

He'd probably be very interested to know how the money he left me for a house with Marcus ended up funding a 3 month trip full of booze, some minor drug use, and sex with beautiful, strange, men.

That reminds me... I need to get batteries eventually.

"No, no, no, I think that was me getting into the wrap thingy and getting ready to be soup. Like that was me as a caterpillar being like "bitch I'm gonna be a butterfly just you watch" but I don't think I'm actually a butterfly yet, yanno?"

"We need to go to bed, you're getting delirious." Nicki gets up and chucks the carton of goldfish back up on the kitchen counter before kissing the top of my head and turning toward her bedroom.

"Alright, fine. But you know I'm right! I shout at her back. "Goodnight, love you, don't get kidnapped please." I say as she shuts her door.

"Goodnight, love you, don't get kidnapped." She yells back.

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Hey, hi, hello,
Thanks for being here❤️