“Small Things” - A Short Snippet
Something sweet and fluffy with Jean.
So, you didn't have your best moment today.
You scrub your face, your cheeks burning as you think back on this afternoon. You - rushing to the single stall bathroom Jean had showed you. You - barely closing the door before the ugliest sound had wrenched its way out of your throat. You - after texting Jean, cracking the door open to let them in before pouring out an absolute torrent of word vomit.
Fuck.
You press your heels against your eyes. After a warm shower, everything seems that much more embarrassing.
You know Jean, out of all people, would understand it. Everything built up, bottled up, shut up inside of you until something - any small, little thing - just makes it completely untenable. It's in these moments that make you want to change yourself - eat better, work out more, find a therapist finally - but you know how it is, that sooner or later you'll be back on your old shit, because if medicine is your daddy, you're one hell of a masochist.
The sound of your doorbell makes you jump, and you frown. Eli would've texted you if they had forgotten their key, and unless you complete forgot about ordering take-out, the person outside your door isn't a delivery driver. You peek through the peep hole and...don't see anyone. Instead, you just see three brown paper bags neatly on your doorstep.
You open the door cautiously. Did Eli order groceries without you? The two of you always put your grocery order in on Sunday (although given the week the two of you have had, that's gone over the way side), but maybe they went on a late night solo spree? You take the bags in and set them on the kitchen counter, about to message Eli, when your phone pings.
You mentioned you didn't have any food in your apartment, so I bought you some stuff. I hope it isn't too weird!!
Jean.
A smile forms on your face, widens as you unpack the haul. There's your favorite fruit, your favorite seltzer, a box of mac and cheese, pasta and sauce. Little snack wheels of cheese, olive oil crackers, sun-dried tomato spread. And, of course - a box of chamomile tea.
Not weird at all! you text back. Thanks so much!! You're beyond amazing.
And then you snap a selfie of you in front of the groceries, beaming like you've won the lottery - because, if you admit to yourself, you really have, having a friend like Jean, a friend that remembers you like tangerine seltzer, a friend that'll show up to hug you when you're having a breakdown in a single stall bathroom, a friend that you know has your back.
(And - if you thought more about it, it would be so easy, wouldn't it, to be with them. But - that, that's a thought for another day.)
