Out There
by Ade

“How could anyone be so incredibly deranged!” I woke up to my roommates “raised voices” in the kitchen downstairs. So I pulled myself out of bed, and out the room, down the hall, down the stairs and into the kitchen. Just in time to see Anne march out the door. Soon followed by Pab who stopped to glance at me then continued on his chase. Rubbing my eyes I step towards the kitchen window thinking “why do things have to be so loud on a Tuesday morning?” No, afternoon. Hell, I’m not even sure if it’s Tuesday.

I thought for a moment about finding out what the big deal was this morning. But instead I grab some coffee, warm and old but still caffeine. Walking into the Den, I flick on the tube. News, the same news I watched last night. Or was that last week? I should really find out what day it is. Leaving the TV on, I walk to the bathroom and sit on the counter, looking into the mirror. Apparently I cut my hair at some point. And dyed it too.

But thank God I still have the same nose, and all those familiar features. No surgery for this face. Nope. Anne had some work done I do recall. Her nose looked good before but she didn’t agree. She’s already thinking Botox at our age. Some people.

Bored with my face. I grab Anne’s makeup, put on some eyeliner. Nice and dark. Just how she hates it on me. Always telling me I should try lighter tones, more natural colours. Lime green lipstick is natural to me.

But I decided against more makeup; instead I grab Pab's shaving cream and make a shaving cream beard and walk out of the bathroom. Off to Anne’s room, I squeeze into her best, tightest jeans. Leave my dirty clothes from last night … or last week on her floor.

Walking into Pab's room in jeans and a bra, a bra I don’t own. His room is clean. That’s not Pab-like. I open his top drawer; there isn’t anything in it.

His closet is full. Full of jeans and band shirts and his one dinner jacket from two years ago when we went shopping for my date. He bought my shoes and I bought his jacket.

I grab the jacket, walk downstairs, and out onto the patio. Looking over the edge. The grass needs to be cut. I walk in to the kitchen. It’s 11:00. Bet they’re walking hand in hand now. I wipe off the shaving cream beard and make some toast.

After toast I decide to take a shower. I head upstairs, knocking happy pictures off the wall.

I step into the shower, run the cold water, and sit down.

Running my foamy fingers through my short hair.

Outside on the front step, I start thinking on occasion; I’m known to do that.
I think that if they walk up that street right now and they are holding hands, shirts inside out, and light “shimmer,” pink lipstick on Pab’s ironed collar. I may just get up and run the other direction. I also think I might stay and tell Pab how I feel. While I’m thinking all of this, Pab walks up the street. Alone.