One Last Laugh

I savour my last few sips of coffee, blissfully ignoring the sticky mess of cups and leftover booze behind my book. I give myself a pass for leaving the mess until after my sweet nectar.

I finish this morning’s chapter and place the book back on the living room counter, getting up from the couch to take in the remaining disaster of last night’s festivities. Empty cups pool the kitchen table and counter tops, and people’s left over cocktail ingredients line the wall near the front door. I smile at the mess—a small price to pay for the memories it afforded.

I take all of the glasses and fill the dishwasher with as many as possible, moving any left out food into the fridge as I go. Shuffling from the staircase breaks the silence of the house, most likely Sabine’s if history’s any indication that we won’t see Logan or Piper until at least noon.

Sab descends the stairs, and gives me a groggy smile and wave as she reaches the last few. She stops on the last step, blinking at the state of the apartment.

“Breakfast first”. I tell her, knowing she’d probably scrub the floors until she passed out before the thought of food interrupted her need to restore tidiness. She says nothing, but makes her way to her cupboard. I let her cut up banana slices in peace.

“Someone got a little late, didn’t they?” She says as a statement more than a question. I laugh as she lifts her cheeky gaze of the last few bites of her toast.

“Definitely no record breakers, but a night worth staying for.” I tell her.

“Happy to hear, but more importantly anything worth sharing.”

“I did dance with this one cutie, damn did they have moves.” I wink at her, replaying each moment. Where we twirled each other during the one country song, and jumped so high some of our drinks spilt during classic Pitbull hits.

“Damn straight.”

“It was pretty much the same after you left. Logan and I just kept dancing and then I caught up with Kai and Blair, while Logan talked to a couple of her lab friends as we were leaving.”

She starts to help me wash the rest of the dishes that didn’t fit into the dishwasher as Piper comes down the stairs.

“Well isn’t this a surprise!” Sab coos as Piper comes into the kitchen, the hood of her sweatshirt still covering her eyes.

“Logan decided to start having a shower earlier than usual. I think she’s going to campus to run some tests on her samples.” She says through a yawn. I push up from my slouched position on the counter, choosing to lean against the doorframe to allow Piper access to the Keurig—knowing full well she’s too polite to commit murder, but fully checks the box for motivation before coffee. And as someone who is impolite and equally caffeine addicted, I choose to move rather than bond over burying bodies.

Seconds later, Logan comes down the stairs as well, her hair drenching the top of her shirt.

“So…are we just not going to talk about Bea’s attempt at flirting?” Logan declares from the living room. Piper and Sab bust out laughing as my cheeks flush with heat.

“Honestly, I’d marry her it was so entertaining.” Sabine says, holding her arms out opening an invisible ring box. I place my clutched hands over my heart.

“I do.” I tell her, sniffling back fake tears.

“Can we even call it an attempt , if her real efforts are just to be a mischievous goof?” Piper exclaims.

“Fair point.” Logan adds.

“I think at this point they deserve what they get. They should know what to expect by now. It’s the end of third year and word travels quickly in a small town.” I say, defending myself.

“You told him that “their dicks still aren’t as big as yours” when he asked you if you knew what they said about guys that were tall! I don’t think anyone was expecting that one.” Sab manages between laughs.

∳

I throw on my worn and beaten running shoes, saying bye to Piper and Sab as I run out the door towards the park trail, trading the lingering smell of maple syrup for the frigid spring air. They barely lift their heads from their mountains of flashcards, but a small wave from Piper lets me know that they did hear me.

I slowly jog down the sidewalk, trying—and mostly failing— to quiet my mind singing facts on blast, repeating the words from my own cue cards over and over. Oh exam season, how I dread your existence.

I start to run quicker as I reach the dirt trail of the small park. It’s not massive, but it does the trick, and what it lacks in size it makes up for in the serenity of birch boardwalks across the pond and acres of open meadow across the road.

I follow my usual route up towards the highway, with my subconscious finally letting Lizzo take over my thoughts from the grueling clutches of Professor Sian’s lectures. The boardwalk rocks slightly under my feet as I come to its edge. Small flowers and grass peak through the last bits of stubborn snow, and the singing of returning birds welcome spring along with them.

A few senior couples follow the trails in different directions, enjoying the cool Sunday morning under the warmth of the sun. I smile at them, and wave to the few friendly faces of regulars I have come to know. I can’t imagine only having one more year in this perfect little corner of the universe.

I turn the corner of the trail fork, careful to watch for the inconspicuous piece of rebar in the center of the trail that has betrayed me once or twice before. I veer left around the sharp corner, watching my footing as I go.

Oh my gosh, my day is made—rather than meeting an invisible, copper stick, the most precious golden, greets me on the other side of the treeline, more than enthusiastic to show me his very unthreatening, wooden stick.

He wags his tail with enough force to wriggle the rest of his body. His adorable smile making him drop the stick in front of my feet, along with a liberal amount of drool. I squat down to pet behind his ears, unable to resist the retriever any longer.

“Making another new friend, Kota?” A deep voice calls in the distance. I look up as a guy emerges from between the trees, approaching nonchalantly. “Hey.” He says, looking down at me as I continue to scratch behind the ears of the sweet little muff.

“Hi.” I reply, squinting up at him as the sun pours over his dark hair. “Sorry, I should probably let you have your dog back.” I say, standing and letting go of his dog’s face. Lifting my hand to block the sun, he comes into view.

I blink at the sight of him, shocked at the vision of the ghost in front of me, a breath caught in my throat. Years have sharpened his face as generously as the gym has broadened his shoulders.

“No worries, he only lets me come to the park to be his wingman anyway.” He says through a smirk, revealing traces of a dimple I knew a lifetime ago. It stirs a gentle warmth in my chest. I wait a moment, hoping to see a glimpse of recognition brush across his face. The sudden flutter in my chest seizes, leaving hollowness when he says nothing.

“I highly doubt a charmer like this cutie needs a wingman.” I say to him, smiling back down at the round eyes beaming up at me.

“I am starting to think the same from the number of times he has run away from me today.” I chuckle at him, still petting the mischief’s soft fur on the top of his head.

“You don’t come here a lot then?” I ask him, already knowing the answer.

“Not in a long time.” He replies, a hint of sorrow.

“What brings you back?”

“My grandfather. I’m visiting him for the summer.” He says, quickly replacing his bittersweet tone with its earlier coolness.

“That’s nice. Well it was meeting you, but I do have to get going.” I scratch behind both furry ears, gently squeezing his soft face and giving him a wide smile. “And it was especially amazing meeting you!” I say, letting go. I turn to run back home.

“It was nice to see you again too, Bea.”