Slide Into My DM

Chapter Five

Megara

Carefully placing the selected ornaments on the tree, I am loving how it’s turning out so far. Neither Frankie nor I wanted to deal with a real tree, and we found one on sale at Target that was perfect. Just tall enough, just wide enough, and it came with lights already on it. The only hassle, really, was moving one of the full bookcases out of the corner so we would have room.

“I know you love Christmas,” my best friend comments from on the couch, “but why are we going through all this if we’re not even going to be here on Christmas Day?”

Finished with all the generic, multi-pack bobbles, I start on the unique pieces. “I might not be here on the actual day, but it’s not like I’m spending the whole break at my dad’s.”

“Oh… really? I thought you were.”

I glance up at her while re-hooking a faux Snowglobe, “He works, why would I?”

“I don’t know. I think you have every year since high school.”

“It was a bit different when I was working full time… it was a big deal to get the time off. Now? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m twenty-three… our apartment feels more like home than my childhood bedroom does.”

She props her feet up on the coffee table, “I get that.”

“What about you?”

Lightly scratching her brow, she answers “I don’t know yet. This feels like home to me, too. Ralph’s not going all the way to Virginia this year. Plus, I do have work. I might just go to Cinci from like the twenty-third to the ‘sixth.”

“Well, you’ve got plenty of time to figure it out. It’s only Black Friday… the official last day of the semester is the fifteenth.”

“Last exam for me is that Wednesday, the eleventh! Can’t believe we have off all the way until January thirteenth.”

Observing the tree from a distance, I absently comment, “Right? I don’t know what I’m going to do with all that free time.” Moving around the living room, I think it all looks pretty great. After adjusting the faux fur tree skirt one last time, I ask, “What do you think?”

Stepping out of the kitchen with yet another cup of coffee, she bobs her head, “Looks great.”

I glance between her and the tree, “Yeah?”

“Yep!”

As I keep analyzing all the Christmas décor, she occupies her spot in the middle of the couch. “What time is that bonfire tonight?”

“The f*******: invite said it starts at six and you know any sort of party Chad throws goes way into the night.”

She and I pull our phones out with the same intention, “No snow, high of forty-six,” she explains first.

I’d been planning on my favorite periwinkle turtleneck, well-loved grey skinny jeans, black snow boots, and my thrift-flip black peacoat that I added faux fur trim to. I should be perfectly fine, but just in case, “It’s just in his back yard… there’s always stuff happening inside if it gets too cold.”

After a long sip of coffee, she nods, “Cool, cool. So, out the door at five-thirty?”

“Yep, sounds good.”

Thomas

Pulling laundry out of the dryer, I hear Patrick yell from his room, “What time is Chad’s thing tonight?”

“Not sure…,” I holler back, “probably six or seven.”

Full basket in hand, I move to the back of the apartment. On the way, I stop at his open bedroom door, “Why?”

Half-n***d, he stands in front of his dresser, “Do you know how cold it’s supposed to be?”

My shoulder lifts, “Forties, I think,” then I head into my room.

About halfway down the basket of unloading and folding and putting away, I find the blue L.L. Bean flannel I’d been wanting for tonight. With the new grey turtlenecks from J. Crew, wool socks, and recently cleaned black Timberland boots, I should be just fine. I really shouldn’t even need a coat.

Now, it’s his turn to pop into my doorway. “I meant to ask, are you for sure spending winter break at home?”

Adjusting the neck on the sweater, I c**k a brow, “Maybe, why?”

“I’m not going home… and neither is Samantha.”

I make a face, “Oh-ho, look at you. Wanting to play a little house, huh?”

If he’d had something in his hand, he would have thrown it at me. “Jackass. Just let me know when you figure stuff out, yeah?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Megara

Frankie grabs my arm just as we step inside. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

“Meet me in the kitchen? I’ll grab us drinks.”

Chad’s parent’s place is one of those you’d see on My Lottery Dream Home, one of those random mini-mansions with a ton of land. There’s basically an east and west wing, a finished basement that’s a mancave of dreams, and his pool parties in the summer get Gatsby-like. It’s no wonder Chad hasn’t moved out, why would he? And his parents are gone so much between work and international vacations, if the maid is paid, they don’t even care he throws parties.

It’s important to have a buddy system and an obvious place to meet, however, or we can spend an hour or longer finding each other (which has happened in the past). That’s the one downside of living in the middle of nowhere, cell service sucks, and if you get far enough away from the house, the Wi-Fi goes out. Still, I keep my phone out until Frankie’s back at my side.

On my way to the kitchen, I say hi to a few people I recognize. It’s nice that we all come to socialize like this since all our lives are so different. Some people went straight to university after high school, some went to just community college, others went into working full time as I did, and so many have done some sort of combination of the three. At least for me, I’d waited on school because I didn’t want to waste time and money figuring out my degree.

The glass bottle I always use in hand, I survey the drink options. Basically, looking at the soda aisle from the grocery store, with a wide range of alcohol choices, and a few random bottles of juices and ciders, I’m not sure what to pick. Knowing we’d be going straight to the fire; I’m tempted to just have the locally sourced apple cider.

“Nice bottle,” I hear a deep voice to my right.

I look at it, “Thanks!”

“Better than using all these plastic cups.”

I smile and turn to him, “Right?”

Thomas Banks is smiling back at me. Perfect teeth, perfect hair, billboard-worthy outfit, even his voice sounds practiced, “It’s a good idea, I should do the same.”

Feeling deflated, I just nod, “Nothing wrong with sustainability.” I quickly pour the apple cider and look around for Frankie.

Thomas looks at the jug I’d just put back, “Is it spiked?”

I take a sip and revel in the deliciousness, “Nope.”

He squints at me, “Not a big drinker?”

His voice… ugh. That obvious? Too much like in class, I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Nope.”

He puts the jug back with one hand and drinks with the other. Almost instantly, he looks into the cup, “Damn, this is good.”

“Yep…. I found the same brand at Giant Eagle, it’s from the farm in Ohio.”

“That’s cool.”

“Nothing wrong with supporting local businesses.” Finally, I see Frankie. I lift from the counter, “Hey!”

After noticing the tall man as Thomas, she gives me a wide-eyed look and a ‘what the f**k’ expression behind his back. I roll my eyes and shake my head. She steps in front of him and is quick about making a Dirty Shirley. “Fire?”

“Fire.”

Thomas

Lifting from an Adirondack chair, I tap Patrick on the arm, “I’m starving.”

He breaks away from his conversation with Samantha just long enough to ask, “Bring me back a slice?”

“Cheese?”

“Yeah.”

I look to his date, “Want anything?”

Still not used to me, she does the new girlfriend thing, “Oh… well, I guess a slice of cheese, too, if you can?”

“Sure thing.” I tap him again, “Save my chair.”

With a deck so big, why do people always crowd by the door? Pushing my way through, I don’t even say ‘excuse me’, (it wouldn’t make a difference). The warmth of the kitchen greets me pleasantly, both the temperature and light. Maybe after food, I’ll head back down to the fire.

Seeing Meg in the kitchen yet again, great minds must think alike because she’s holding a paper plate in front of all the food. Not covered by a long black coat this time, I can admire how her clothes hug the beautiful curves of her body. After grabbing a plate for myself, I slip in right next to her. “I would hate to work at Domino’s on a night like tonight.”

In the middle of detaching a slice of sausage, she giggles, “Right?”

She goes for another slice, and I comment, “Better than filling up on snacks, though.”

“Oh, totally. I could eat a bag of chips and still be hungry.” She giggles again. Plate in the palm of one hand, she licks the tips of her fingers then asks, “Were you there when Chad ordered all the Subway?” she turns to me.

I chuckle at the memory. “What about that time with all the Olive Garden?”

Her expression turns from happy to polite. “I think that was one of my favorites.”

“You like Italian food?”

Awkwardly, she tucks her swooping bangs behind her ear. “Uh, yeah. Pasta is probably the only thing I can cook.”

As I collect my own pizza, she moves past me, and around the counter. Her high ponytail swished back and forth and doesn’t stop until she’s seated at the bar across from me. Facing her, I stand and eat. “You cook often?”

“Kind of have to….”

“Live alone?” I try.

She shakes her head and points behind me, “Nah, I live with Frankie.”

“I live with Patrick.”

Her expression reads ‘uh, okay’. “Cool.”

“So, I do a lot of cooking too. Well, when we don’t order takeout, anyway.”

She smirks, “Which you do a lot.” Not a question.

“Uh, yeah?”

Her nose scrunches for a moment and she rushes chewing. She holds a hand in front of her mouth, “I saw on your Instagram.”

Oh? She follows me? “What’s your handle?”

“Damsel In A Thrifted Dress,” she comments hesitantly.

I laugh, “I get it. From Hercules?”

“Damsel in distress, yeah.”

I study her for a moment as she checks her phone. If you’d asked me a couple of weeks into the semester how I felt about her, I would say annoyed. A total Hermione, her hand goes up with almost every question asked. Even if someone answered first, she always has something to comment. I try and keep up with her, but it’s difficult. And, honestly, it’s taken me almost all the semester to be okay with not being the smartest one in the classroom.

Then, when I saw her at Barnes And Noble, I knew I judged a book by its cover. I should have known better than that; of course she would be in her most comfortable state at eight am. Now, running into her again, I want to get to know her better. Looking up her i********:, I instantly follow her.

I look up to see her wiping her face with her napkin, plate empty. “You don’t follow me?” I ask, confused.

She tosses her plate into a trash bag, “Nope. Your life isn’t really my style,” and then she walks away.

Megara

Laughing, Frankie snorts, an arm hard across her stomach. “Oh my God, you did not.”

Face in my hand, I sigh, “I meant to say page… that his page isn’t really my style.”

She hits the log we’re sitting on. “Oh my God, look at you go.” She snorts again, “and you haven’t even had anything to drink.”

Sitting back up, I look into my bottle, “Maybe I should.” I feel so embarrassed. “I hadn’t meant to insult him, just deter him.”

She drapes her arm over my shoulders. “He probably doesn’t know what to do with the information that someone very actively doesn’t follow him.”

“Oh yeah, like I’d make a big difference. He probably just wrote me off as a b***h and went about his business.”

Frankie’s arm slides off my shoulders and then she stands. “Well, I better go find Ralph,” she sighs. “Knowing him, he’s fallen asleep somewhere.”

Enjoying the fire, I let her know, “I’ll be here.”

The flames are as tall as me sitting down, the flames are reaching into the night sky, little sparks floating to meet stars. One day I’d like to camp in open country, I think as I look to the sky, not really be able to see the stars. See the Milky Way… see the Northern Lights.

With a sigh, I put my empty bottle in my purse. Letting my mind quiet, sometimes it’s okay to just fall in love with nature. The wind shifts, the lot of flames flickering, twitching, and I find myself shivering. Wrapping my coat tighter, the faux fur is soft against my cheeks.

Suddenly, a large form sits next to me with a small grunt. It’s hard to tell who with such limited light, but he looks familiar. He doesn’t talk, so I turn my attention back ahead of me.

The guy next to me slides down in front of the log, using it as a backrest. His hands clasped in his lap, his head facing almost straight up. “Do you ever just… wonder about your life…? Like… how much you actually matter in the big picture?”

I look at him but don’t answer.

“In Cultural Anthropology, there’s this continuum where the poles are agency and structuralism. Agency is the argument that the individual is in charge and affects the world around them. While structuralism is that… like, businesses and s**t are in control and influences everything for the individual. People argue it’s one or the other, but it’s not that simple.

“There are two sides to every story and the truth usually lies somewhere in the middle,” he quotes.

He shakes his head in that moment, where he’s casted in the most light, “Thomas?”

“Hey, Meg,” he sighs out each word.

“You okay?”

He seems mesmerized by the fire. “I just thinking of something a friend said.”

I open my mouth to respond, but then hear Frankie yell, “Meg!”

Looking back, she has Ralph, “Ready to head home?”

“Yep!” I yell behind me. I awkwardly pat Thomas on the shoulder, “You going to be okay?”

He gives one, solid nod. “Yep. See you Monday.”

Thomas

I know you weren’t really aiming for an answer or response to that post a few weeks ago….

But recently, I’ve been thinking about it too. I can’t say that I lead a small life, at least not on the outside. I don’t really want for anything if you know what I mean. But I guess I’m having the opposite problem. The people in my life… do they like me, or the idea of me?

I would like to start leading a more meaningful life, just like you. A life that makes a difference, not just to myself, but to the people around me. A grand thing with a grand meaning. Let’s face it - I haven’t been thoughtful enough, have I? I haven’t been brave enough, either.

So, it’s my turn to send out this cosmic question out into the void….

So, good night, dear ‘R,

Your Triple G.