Caroline is perhaps the best friend I have and I don’t know how to tell her, but I think I showed her by asking for her when I needed someone to help me stabilize. She took me to eat at a food truck that she knew would still be open. It was the best night I’ve had in a long time – even before my parents died.
-_~* Week 3 *~_-
Three hard wraps on the door of his dorm room pull Santiago out of his slump. He’s been staring at a blank screen for several hours, fretting about where to start and where to stop and where to go and how to get caught up and…
He doesn’t even hesitate to jump onto his feet. He doesn’t even dream of it. Swinging the door so forcefully that he smashes it against the wall, the first thing out of his mouth is an apology when he sees Caroline’s face. “Whoops.”
“Yeah, you need to get out of here,” she snorts. Caroline gestures to his person, and even though she doesn’t say, he figures she means to ask if he’s ready. All he needs is a jacket, which he grabs from the floor, and walks out of the door effortlessly.
Santiago doesn’t mean to notice that Caroline looks so different, but he does. Her hair is pulled into matted half-updo and her face is clear of make-up. She’s traded in her crop top for an oversized thermal with leggings, and instead of suspenders, she’s sported hard soled slipper boots. Obviously Caroline was in bed before she came, and he appreciates her more for this alone.
What should he say to her if he thinks she looks better this way? Is it even really that she looks better? Truthfully, Santiago thinks that she just looks less encumbered. It is a good style for her, though, because he can appreciate the muted green in her hair, almost faded now, and the flat blonde tone of her natural color. Her cheeks have a natural blush that makes the blue of her eyes stand out even more.
He would be a liar to imply that she doesn’t look nice this way. “Pajamas?”
“I change the second I’m home for the night.”
A laugh leaves his mouth without permission. She makes a face at him sideways but ends up smiling. Fumbling over his words, the only thing he mutters is an incoherent slur of consonants. This brings a curl to her lips too.
The car ride is just as quiet as the last one he took in her car on her birthday, last Thursday, but it’s far less awkward. Since last week, though, they’ve started hanging out between classes if they’re both on campus, so the silence is welcome between them now. Santiago is shocked by how comfortable it is and wonders how he’s managed to go so long without a friendship like this.
“Where are we going?” he inquires passively, watching everything pass by in a slow-motion blur. It’s crazy how such a big town can look so dead despite the population.
“The only place desperate, scatterbrained twenty-somethings go at this hour,” she huffs lazily. “Or at least that’s what I hear. I’ve only been one other time and I didn’t actually order anything because Casper and his crazy girlfriend wanted to come one night after I moved in to ‘bond,’ I guess.”
Santiago listens as she starts chatting more about Casper and his girlfriend, a woman that Caroline doesn’t particularly care to have around the apartment. She turns up without warning and tries really hard to form a relationship with Caroline, which she finds annoying at best. Sometimes she even makes remarks that seem flirtatious; it’s unnerving.
He doesn’t know what to say to her, so he just asks. “Was she there tonight?”
“I don’t actually know, probably. She was supposed to be over for dinner, I think, so I went straight to my room and locked the door behind me. She doesn’t know the importance of knocking,” Caroline explains, turning her wheel with severe focus. They appear to be going nowhere until she turns into an abandoned parking lot and Santiago sees a brightly lit truck. It is nestled in the corner along the sidewalk.
A neon sign reading ‘Basketcase’ flickers just ever so slightly. Santiago cannot deny to himself that the name is intriguing and modern. It’s definitely something that would draw in twenty-somethings. Caroline tells him that everything they sell is fried, which is perfect for any poor, unfortunate soul looking for a pitiful late-night pick-me-up. “Surely it’ll work for people like us.”
“Broken orphans?”
Caroline has this snorting sort of laugh, he’s starting to learn, and she lets one of them escape her lips when he refers back to one of her first comments to him. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Once they are parked and walking up to the truck, it comes up that Caroline was “honestly surprised” to see his text so late but kind of glad to get out of the house.
“I’m just as shocked that you showed,” he admits. He didn’t think she would be interested in coming to grab a bite to eat in the middle of the night instead of waiting for the end of the day. Anxious and feeling like a failure with each passing minute, the text was sent in despair that he expected to be fruitless. “Do not misunderstand me, though. I am glad you came.”
Shrugging and huffing, “I may not know what we are or where I stand with you, but I do know that we’re in this together. You would have come if I were calling you, anyway.”
How should he interpret that comment? Santiago cannot tell if she means to be sarcastic, or suggestive, or something else entirely just by her tone of voice; additionally, her expression is even more vacant. The only helpful thing he can gather is that her eyes close ever so slightly as she glances down at the ground. Careful not to overstep, he lessens the gap between them a small bit.
The menu features a number of classic fried items – fries, chicken tenders, pickle chips, and mozzarella sticks. However, there are other specialty items like deep-fried Oreos, bacon, and lasagna. Caroline waits for him to make a decision but everything sounds delicious; from the jalapeño corndogs to the cookie dough, but in the end he decides on a basket of deep-fried Oreos because Caroline keeps referring back to them.
“And two Mountain Dews,” he squeezes in before the guy working gets the order rang up. He pulls a couple of bottles from beneath the counter and sets them on the pass where Caroline quickly snatches hers and opens it. He puts fifteen dollars on the counter and tells Caroline to keep the change as compensation for the gas she used to drive him all the way out for their dinner. He is thankful as he watches her accept the cash and stuff it into her pocket.
It doesn’t come without her usual bite back. “I don’t know that this counts as dinner, but we’ll probably eat a cafeteria dinner together later so it’s all the same in the end.”
“Basically,” Santiago agrees blandly.
After they return to Caroline’s car, there’s a brief debate as to whether or not they’ll go somewhere else to eat. Neither of them cares, though, and they settle in the backseat of her car instead of committing to any more trips anywhere else. It’s surprisingly comfortable and nice.
Conversation flows easily once they’re sitting with crossed legs, facing one another, and sharing their deep-fried Oreos in the dim light of the streetlamp she parked beneath. Each topic is innocent enough – speculations about Hannah, complaints about early morning lectures, and the way all fried food smells as bad as it is for the body. Eventually, their chat steers in the direction of Santiago’s struggle to catch up on his work.
“What is the main problem? Like, what are you having the most trouble getting past?” she asks with food in her mouth and a hand half covering her lips. The attempt is sincere but lazy in a way, the question more urgent to her than proper manners. Santiago thinks he smiles at her for a second but it can’t have stayed long because Caroline’s features shift to a look of concern.
He can’t say what it is that is blocking him from his usual productivity. “It’s just a lot, I suppose,” he suggests, not really convinced with his own response.
Caroline tells him to focus on a specific type of assignment that doesn’t require as much energy as the others, maybe, to get his brain back in the right place to work on the harder tasks. He discounts it pretty quickly, though, saying that even the reading quizzes are taxing on his mind.
“It feels like I’ve lost every ounce of intelligence,” Santiago whines through barred teeth, admitting aloud for the first time that he is somehow inadequate or incapable. The thought that he has lost that spark of something that made him so smart and made school so easy has crossed his mind several times a day since he started diving back into his late work. Only now, seeing the consequence of his reckless grieving, it feels impossible. It feels like drowning.
Drowning in failure…
None of that flies for Caroline, though. “You’re being ridiculous, but I forgive you. Death messes with our minds and makes us think silly things.”
There’s one Oreo left and she slides it over to him, a very clear smile curling her features. “Thanks,” he says sheepishly, more than happy to enjoy the final bite.
“What kind of work do you have to do?” Caroline adjusts in the seat to prop her ankles up on the center console in the front seat. She is undeniably more comfortable stretched out. Santiago is instantly jealous that he can’t poke out his lanky legs.
Listing the general assignments, Santiago talks about his essays, reading quizzes, digital labs, and presentations. When he mentions presentations, Caroline’s head pops up. “Do you have outlines for them or could you put a decent one together?”
Hesitantly, his brow arches high on his forehead. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I could make the presentation for you if I have an outline. It would take some weight off your shoulders, you know, so I thought I would ask.” Eye contact is the last thing she seems interested in pursuing, keeping her gaze trained on some unknown point outside of the vehicle. Santiago can’t see her eyes or even her cheek, really. All he can go on is the messy ponytail at the back of her head and her right ear.
Needless to say, he doesn’t know what to think. “What about your own schoolwork, Caroline? I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ever ask you to help me like that. It’s my work.”
Whipping around and reaching out to poke his nose gently, a gentle snicker fills the still, tense air. “It’s a good thing you’re not asking then, isn’t it?”
Mouth agape, Santiago tries to retaliate her giggly approach to his declaration that he won’t let her help with the presentations. It is true that the work is very time consuming, but it’s going to be a part of his career someday. He needs to be able to handle it on his own. “We should get going,” she says, interrupting his stunned thoughts-to-be.
“Yeah, probably.”
Crawling over the seats rather than getting out of the car, Santiago is exhausted by the time he’s settling into his seat. With a huff, he asks if he can roll the window down just an inch or two. Caroline cracks a back window instead and starts driving without another word.
As for Santiago, they’re barely out of the parking lot before his eyelids start feeling heavy. Very, very heavy…
Don’t stop here – read the next chapter right now. You know you wanna 😉
Acknowledgments
As always, thanks to the insanely patient editor-in-the-making I have in ouranose. She read through this tonight despite how late it was getting, which I appreciate beyond words considering everything I’ve had to process today.
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