Letting Go (Chapter-10)

Jilliana

Jilliana woke up to a sharp headache and an aroma of fresh coffee. Clattering sounds coming from the kitchen increased the pressure in her head, so she quickly covered her ears with the pillow. When the clattering stopped she slowly blinked her eyes open and scanned the room, noticing how the furniture had been rearranged since the last time she’d been there. The television had been moved to the left side of the room, probably to avoid the annoying glare from the window. The comfy, wine stained chair was moved farther to the right next to a new black bookcase filled with more movies and video games than literature. The loveseat Jilliana was lying on, placed in the center of the room on a multi colored oval rug, seemed to be the only thing that hadn’t moved.

The clattering had stopped, and the smell of eggs and bacon filled the apartment. She pushed herself up, wrapped herself in a blanket that had been draped over her the night before, and walked tiredly toward the small kitchen area.

“Hey, Pat, ” Jilliana said, leaning onto the counter opposite the stove.

Patrick turned, holding a fork in his right hand. He looked exhausted. His brown hair was flaring out in different directions, and there were heavy circles beneath his eyes. “Oh, good morning sunshine.” He picked up a cup of coffee and placed it in front of her. “In the mood for some bacon?”

“That’s a trick question, right?” Jilliana took a sip, “You better have more bacon in that fridge.”

Patrick smiled, opened the fridge, and pulled out three packs of Oscar Mayer Bacon Strips. “Please, I know better than to take you in for a night of emotional binge drinking and not have a meat-stocked fridge.” He turned back to the stove and flipped the bacon. “So how’re you feeling?”

Jilliana rested her forehead into her hand. “Been better.”

Patrick put three strips of crispy bacon and scrambled eggs on a plate and placed it before her on the counter. “I don’t think I’ve seen you that pissed off since the prom fiasco of ’94.”

Jilliana let out a small laugh. “I still think my mom has zero idea that I ended up going to that stupid prom.”

Patrick poured himself a cup of coffee. “Yea, in that outrageous purple dress - you looked like an oversized grape climbing out of your bedroom window.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” she said, “at least I had a date.”

“Okay, okay, be nice. Remember that I’ve given up my entire Sunday to cook you bacon.” Patrick turned, served himself a plate of eggs, and walked to sit in the tattered up chair across from the television. Jilliana followed him and sat down on the couch, placing her plate of food in her lap.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here. I like the new arrangement.”

“Yea, I’ve been meaning to switch it up a bit. But I miss the random piles of movies and video games covering the floor - it gave the place character.”

Jilliana smiled and took a quick sip of coffee, “Hey, thanks for last night.”

“No problem, Jills. I know a distress text when I see one. I’m just glad you gave me enough time to prepare for it.”

Jilliana scarfed down the bacon strips on her plate and looked down at the empty wine bottles on the floor. “I’ll pay you back for those,” she said, vaguely remembering drinking wine directly from the bottle the night before.

Patrick let out a small laugh. “You never paid me back before,” he said, finishing off his eggs, “let’s not start now.” He picked up his cup of coffee. “So how are you, Jills. Really?”

Jilliana gazed around the room. “I don’t know. I mean I feel like none of it’s real yet. Like, this is all happening in some alternate universe or something.” She shook her head and let out a deep sigh. “I guess I have to just go along with the ride.”

Patrick nodded slightly. “So you’re going to the meeting at the agency tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I mean I have to, right?”

Patrick pushed himself forward onto the chair and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Jills, here’s the thing. I was with you last time, probably more than anyone else-”

As he spoke, Jilliana imagined Patrick years ago - a scrawny nine year old neighbor who became her best friend after Serena was gone. She remembered sneaking into his backyard to play with him, while her parents were talking to the police, going on imaginary adventures to distract herself from reality.

“- if I’m going to give my honest opinion,” he continued, “I think you should take more time to think it through. You’re in no rush to decide anything right now.” He picked up his empty plate from the floor and stood up. “Besides,” he said, walking toward the kitchen, “you’ve only had one serving of bacon. No important decisions should be made until you’ve had at least three.”

Jilliana chuckled as he passed. She lay her head against the couch cushions, gazed through the window, and let her mind wander aimlessly to the sound of oil sizzling on the frying pan.

“I’m not going,” she said in a tone too soft for Patrick to hear from the kitchen, “It’s not my fucking problem anymore.”

She pushed herself up and watched him move smoothly from the fridge to the stove, then back to the fridge, while simultaneously sipping his coffee. He turned suddenly, breaking his steady cooking rhythm, and looked at her. She smiled back.

“What?” he said, leaning on the counter.

“Nothing,” Jilliana said, turning away, “just make them extra crispy.”