【悬疑】Mirror Mirror（3）Abby

【悬疑】 Mirror Mirror（2）Chase

My phone wakes up in my hand, chiming with a ringtone from Chase’s favorite video game.  I squint through puffy eyes, and see Chase’s face flashing on the screen.  I had a good laugh about this photo I took after the ER visit two weeks ago.  The just-fucked hair looks way sexier than the short spike style he usually goes for.

I don’t pick up.  Every muscle on my face hurts after a whole night’s crying.  As much as I want to hear Chase's comforting voice right now, I am not really in the mood to talk and I don't want to upset him with these stupid mood swings that come out of nowhere lately.  For no apparent reason, the most trivial thing can make me cry for hours like turning on a broken faucet.

With a heavy sigh, I close my eyes and play deaf.

The phone finally stops ringing.  A couple seconds later, it dings and this time, I check the message automatically.  Sure enough, it’s a text from him.

Chase: Hi Abby!  How u doing?

Why do these five words make my eyes watery?  Damn it, I thought my tear supply had run out.  Too exhausted for pleasantry, I reply with a two-letter word.

Me: Hi

Three dots start jumping the second after my two-letter word enters the screen.

Chase: Miss u.  looked 4 u in open house but couldn’t find u.  Thought u were coming?

Oh, the open house for the summer culinary program at the Arts Institute.  It totally slipped my mind.  Oh well, what does it matter now?  I don’t even want to go near the kitchen any more, let alone rolling dough and whipping eggs all day.

Me: I forgot.  Cried all night.  2 tired.

Chase: Y?  R u ok?

Me: Dunno

Chase: BRT

“Be right there.”  I can picture Chase uttering the words as he types these three letters into text, shoving the phone into his jeans pocket, and running straight to me.

Oh boy...here come the waterworks again.

I roll over to the other side of the bed, and proceed to soak the dried half of the pillow.

A sudden rattle of knocks hits my door, followed by shaking of the loose doorknob.  Startled, I quickly cover my head with the blanket, thankful that I was lying facing the wall.

Heavy foot steps drum the floor before mom's concerned voice pierces the fabric of the fleece blanket.  I rolled my eyes - she never asks for permission before she enters my room.

“Abby, are you feeling better today?  It's been four days already.  Your cold never lasts this long.  Oh, I made chicken jook for you this morning.  Eat it when you get up.”

Oh no, poor chicken...why do people slaughter these fluffy little guys and make them into food?  I want to be mad at mom, but I also know she’s just trying to take care of me, so I and my fake cold should be blamed for the death of the poor chicken.

A couple drops of tears roll down the corner of my eyes, and I force myself to reply in a composed voice, “Okay.  Thanks mom.”

I feel a comforting rub on my shoulder, soothing the ache in my chest.  I suck in a deep breath to control the shivering that threatens to give me away, and assure her calmly, “I’ll be fine.  I just need some sleep.”

“Sure.  The bakery's not busy on Mondays, so if you need to go see a doctor, I can come home early today.  Just let me know.”

The hinge squeaks as the door shuts close with a dull thud.  I kick off the blanket over my head and breathe in fresh air.  Gosh, I almost suffocated myself to death!  Sure I feel miserable, but I don’t want to die...yet.  So I prop myself up against the headboard and let the tears fall to the blanket instead.  Want to murder me?  I’ll drown you in my tears, stupid blanket!

I've only moistened a corner of the blanket when I hear three gentle knocks on the door.

“Abby, Abby!” He called with an undeniable urgency.

I can’t let him see me like this.  He’s seen enough over the past two weeks.  Any more tantrums, panic attacks, or crying spells like this may push him over the edge, and that’d be the end of us.

Knowing my doorknob is broken and won’t lock from the inside, I bolt to the closet, the only hideout in my room, and jam the door with my back.

Just as my heartbeat starts to slow, I hear an unmistakable tune ringing outside.  Damn it, I left my phone on my bed!  Before I have a chance to insult my own intelligence, brisk footsteps draw near and stop outside of the closet door.

“Abby, I know you are in there.  Can I come in?” Chases says softly through the gap between the door and the frame.

“No!  I am...uh...I am naked!” I babble.

“Oh?” He sounds intrigued, the exact opposite effect I am trying to achieve.

I am such an idiot!  “No, I was just kidding!  I have...uh...fleas and...no, I have rabies and measles and...pneumonia...”

I continue to search for all the contagious diseases known to mankind before I hear a chuckle, "Open up Abby.  I want to catch whatever you have so we can be placed in quarantine together, preferably on a deserted tropical island with luxury amenities and endless food supply,” He pauses for a second, “without any clothes.  I don't care about what you wear as long as you are lathered up with sunscreen.  Remember I would be the only person that can help you rub it on your back, although I don’t mind doing it in other places.” He chuckles some more. “Oh wait, we need a hut.  Rolling on the sand is fun in daytime, but we can't sleep on the beach at night.  And an industrial kitchen, so you can bake the best cookies for me everyday.”

“How do you come up with these ideas?” I mused, sadness temporarily forgotten.

“I am just getting started.  You don't want to know how much time I spend fantasizing about you and your body.” He pauses again as if he’s willing himself to focus on the task at hand.  Cautiously he asks, “can I come in now?”

I know he's trying to capitalize on the lightened mood he created, but I don't have it in me to shut him out anymore.  I slide down the back of the closet door and sink to the floor, silently letting him push it open and squeeze inside.

The closet is pitch dark, so is my room outside with all the curtains drawn.  I am not too worried about my messed-up face being exposed, but I bury my face in the knees I am hugging anyways, and ask him through trembled lips as tears sting my eyes again, “why are you so nice to me?  I look weird, can’t see well, and I am a terrible person and...and the worst girlfriend ever.”

The words are barely audible to my own ears, but the confined space must've amplified the sound, because I hear his response in the same volume, “no, you are a wonderful person inside and out, and the coolest girlfriend ever.”

A large pair of shoes settles next to my bare feet.  Slender fingers reach my forearms to massage in a circular motion, relaxing the rigid muscles that keep my demons at bay.  When I finally loosen the grip, he finds my chin, cups it, and speaks with sincerity, “Abby, you are smart, funny, honest, brave, and full of energy.  You don't judge people by their appearance or where they come from.  You asked me out even when everybody thinks I am gay because I hang out with Daniel all the time.”

“No, I didn't ask you out.  I was just desperate for a new taste tester to sample my cookies before the bake-off, and you looked like an honest and unprejudiced person.  That's all that matters.” I utter with a sniffle.

“Well, it did give me a chance to show you who I really am and to get to know you.  That's all that matters to me too.”

Warmth starts to build in my chest, but not enough to melt the sadness away.  I frown and shake my head, “no, I am sarcastic, selfish and stubborn.  I've always known I am different in appearance but I want to be different in all aspects.  Mom and dad work their asses off at their bakery so I can become a doctor, accountant, or engineer, but I never listen to what they say.  I want to go to the Culinary Institute, not whatever Ivy League school they believe I can get into.  I always go against their wishes.  Hell, I even steal the money they gave me for SAT tutoring class...”

Chase pauses for a long while after I realize what I've just confessed, “what do you need the money for, Abby?” He asks quietly.

I don’t answer.

He doesn’t push.  With a feather like touch, he places a finger over my lips, “shh...” he soothes, “you are tired.  Let’s stop here so you can get some rest.”

Before I have a chance to protest, he moves over to sit next to me and puts his arms around my shoulder like a cocoon, safe and free from the unworthiness that threatens to invade my brain.

“Your hair is so glossy and soft.” He whispers as he plays with it.  The faint scent of his sweat and the solid chest I am leaning against assure me that he’ll always be here for me no matter how undeserving I feel of him, of love, of all the good things in my life.  His calming touch sends me to a zen garden, where the only sound is my even breathing in a deep sleep.

【悬疑】Mirror Mirror（4）Chase