Save for a nightlight in the kitchen, the house was totally dark when they entered. Jodie groped around in the dark for the light switch while she talked about making up the sleeper sofa. When the room finally lit up, they found the sofa already occupied. “Aw shit, sorry Ingrid!” She yelped.
“It’s cool,” Ingrid mumbled with an arm over her face, and Jodie hurried to turn the light off.
“Sooo…” Motioning for Mitch to follow her, she explained that Ingrid was crashing for the next few days while her bathroom was being renovated. “Must’ve slipped my mind during everything. You OK with just sharing my bed for old time’s sake?”
“Oh dang, we going high school style?” Mitch laughed, then added, “Yeah, that’s fine.”
“And college? And that time that I was homeless for a hot minute? And then that time that you were between jobs for another minute?” She started to count off of her fingers.
Realization dawned on Mitch, and he mused out loud, “Honestly, aside from Calvin, I think I’ve slept next to you more than anyone that I’ve dated.”
“Two gaaays, one beddd!” she sing-songed on the way to her room, whatever concerns about everyone else’s sleep schedule long since tossed out the window. Shutting the door behind them, she then unceremoniously tossed Mitch’s backpack onto the designated laundry chair in the corner of her room. “By the way,” she spoke up before he could get comfortable, “you still have your gear on. And stuff all over your face.”
After he grabbed baby wipes and clean underwear from out of his backpack, Mitch set up shop in the bathroom. He studied himself in the mirror before his vision started to blur again, and he shook his head in a futile attempt to clear his sight. As if all that’s all it would take to be rid of the concussion.
Dragging a wipe across the smeared facepaint, his eyes wandered to the light bruises that bloomed along his neck and shoulders. The doctor said that had he landed mere centimeters north, he’d be paralyzed. While scrubbing more stubborn spots of paint, he couldn’t help but imagine how that conversation with Calvin would have went, and hastily willed that hypothetical out of his head. No doubt, he’d be dumped were that the case; he already skated on thin ice as it.
With the last traces of paint gone, Zevon the werewolf vanished as well. Now all that was left was an unkempt human Mitch Calvert, with his shaggy blonde hair, his hawk nose, and too many imperfections that he’d rather not be alone to dwell upon. At least Zevon was a monster, so he had excuses for being hairy and scraggly and covered in weird scars.
Undressing was a Herculaneum task. Though he barely had the energy to pull up the pair of boxer-briefs, Mitch managed to overcome the odds. He cursed at himself for forgetting a toothbrush, and helped himself to some mouthwash that belonged to one of the house’s other occupants. When he returned to Jodie’s bedroom, he was greeted by an obscene amount of pillows that were stacked up on what he assumed was his side of the bed. “Think that might be a bit much?” he asked Jodie.
“You’re a side sleeper, and right now you can’t do that,” She pointed out. Was it weird for friends to know those details about one another? Maybe the accusations about them being co-dependent weren’t too far off base.
He dropped the wrestling gear somewhere within the vicinity of the backpack, and then settled into the bed. Multiple attempts were made at getting comfortable, and once he stopped finally squirming, Jodie turned off the bedside’s lamp. After several minutes lapsed of silence, he punctured it with a deep breath. “They gave me a prescription,” he revealed. “It’s a written one, but. Y’know.”
“Ah,” Jodie acknowledged, and the room’s air turned heavy. Mitch could physically feel the way that she weighed out the next few words. “What are you going to do with it?”
“I gotta get rid of it. Like, obviously.” He chuckled softly. Sadly.
“Is it in the bag?”
“The plastic one with the papers and stuff. I shoved it towards the bottom.”
Mitch stayed quiet while Jodie turned the light back on, rolled out of the bed, and rummaged through the bag. “Do you want some weed or something? To get you through the night?”
“I really would, yes.” Not even a second later, a vape pen was tossed in his direction and landed on his chest. “Good shot. And uh, thanks.”
“Anytime.” As Mitch took a hit, he spotted a small piece of paper of held between her fingers. His eyes widened when she popped the entire thing into her mouth, thoroughly chewed, and swallowed it.
For the last time that evening, the lamp turned off. Jodie rolled onto her stomach, and responded with a muffled, “Night dude.”