Theo is on the floor. He has his pajama clad limbs thrown out, all askew, looking something like a very soft and very confused starfish.
“What are you doing?” Lee says, drowsy words filtering over the brim of his mug. Normally, Lee wakes up to a settled apartment, quiet with only muffled flutters of electronic music coming from Theo’s room. He is usually alone as he does his rounds around the kitchen and living room; just him and his plants. This doesn’t happen: Theo laying silently in the middle of the floor, just staring at the ceiling.
Just as Lee was about to check if he was speaking to a corpse, he gets a mumbled “What? Ugh, no. S’ it morning?”
“Uh, yeah, and why are you just...” He says, using his empty hand to gesture at the starfish on the kitchen floor.
Theo groans. Flailing dramatically, he stands up and fixes Lee with an unfocused stare. “Because, Leonard, if I lived by the so called ‘24-hour day,’ I would be simply giving in to conceptual laws of ridiculousness. I am a free man. I live by my declared ‘no-hour day’ because hours do not exist, nor do any measurements of ‘time.’” He punctuates the last word with a look of utmost disgust.
Ah. This makes much more sense.
“Go to bed, Thee.”
“You aren’t the boss of me.”
“Don’t make me call Dora.”
Theo groans, louder this time, and shuffles out of the kitchen. Lee sighs and turns back towards the window. Winter is coming to a close, finally. The sun is more willing to shine higher above the horizon, bursting from behind the still-bare branches of birch and oak. Snow has sunk into the ground, hastening to give the murky floor its chance to return to its former splendor. Soon everything will be green. Everything will be new.
After tipping his mug back only to find it empty for the third time, Lee executively decides to push it beside the long line of bowls and plates and Theo’s cup with ‘DO NOT DRINK’ inscribed on it in sharpie. There’s a whole story behind that cup. It’s pretty funny, but also kind of unfair that Theo still manages to be photogenic in the middle of a colorful spit-take.
Lee starts, due to his back pocket trilling loudly in the small space.
Dora (5:47am)- hey cap did thee make it back alright?
He pauses, frowning down the hallway at the Theo’s closed door.
You (5:48am)- Yeah he’s asleep in his room.
You (5:48am)- I don’t remember hearing him leave or come back. Did something happen?
Dora (5:49am)- idk he wouldnt say i just lent him some vodka
You (5:49am)- I have to go to work, but I can check on him when I get back.
Dora (5:49am)- he’s a big boy leopold
Dora (5:50am)- but ill tell him to stop in ur flower shop when he gets up
Lee sighs again, shoving his phone away and ignoring the unsettled spinning of his gut. He can’t really say why it’s unnerving him so much. It’s not like Theo values temperance even in the slightest of ways. In fact, he is quite heavy handed when pouring himself a glass. What was it about this time? Maybe it was the shaking fingers at his sides, or how his lips looked dry and bitten, or the way his eyes weren’t seeing– just looking. Maybe Lee is making this all up in his head; projecting his own overactive nerves on him. It is certainly possible that Theo is perfectly fine. Ok, not perfectly fine. More like decently fine, functionally adequate, or, as Cassie would put it, ‘all nice and dandy with a side of ugh.’
You get those rare good days, but the rest of the time you are crossing your fingers for ‘not horrible.’ No one can ever tell. On a good day you say you are ‘fine’ because you are. When a bad day comes around, you say you’re fine because you want to be. Then you’re pressing a barrel of a gun to your temple saying you’re fine because no one can know you aren’t.
This philosophy carries for everyone in their brokenly joined group. Everyone is always fine. This is why Lee is worried. Like Dora, Theo attributes ‘fine’ to his lively conversation and sarcasm. The better mood he’s in, the snarkier he gets, but this also increases as he gets worse.
A piercing bark interrupts his train of thought.
“Shush. Theo’s sleeping.”
Lisa barks again. She must know he’s running late. Oh, right.
“One sec. One sec. I need to find your leash.”
Two hastily tied shoes and one frantic bike ride later, Lee skids in front of the flower shop, hopping on one foot before he could really come to a stop. Adrenaline makes it harder than it should be to slip the lock through the assorted spokes and click it in place. Standing up, he pulls his phone from his pocket. Under the bright sun, he can barely make out the time on the screen. Thankfully, it says he’s got one minute before he’d be late.
The lock is finicky and only opens if you press on the door knob and twist the key at the same time. You see, Lee likes to think he’s pretty coordinated as compared to the average joe, but this lock says otherwise. It takes him three tries today; pretty low compared to his usual. To this, he smiles smugly as he grabs Lisa out of her basket and tucks her under his arm.
“See that, Lisa? Incredible.”
Lisa just huffs a small sigh. Lee mocks being painfully offended.
“You know, Charles would be proud of me. He would lick my face and everything.” He wouldn’t, but Lisa doesn’t need to know that.
To that, she doesn’t even respond.
“In-cred-ible I say.”
----
Theo waited for fifteen seconds, or however long his patience lasts, in the silence Lee left behind before emphatically kicking his door open from his position on the floor.
“Charles.”
At his name, the gray and white pitbull lifts his head from where it’s resting on Theo’s pillow.
Theo continues, “Did you know that there is a planet out there that rains glass sideways?”
Charles seems to sigh at this and then lowers his chin back onto the soft fabric.
He read it somewhere online. There was this huge list of bizarre planets and moons with bizarre qualities and characteristics. Something about this one stuck. How weird would it be if you woke up one morning to a forecast of “heavy glass-fall coming in from the east– don’t forget your body shields, folks!” What if it started raining without warning. All of a sudden you’d be running for cover, flinching and pinching shards out of tiny wounds, yelling through torrents of angry thunder, apologizing for something loud. Your bony forearms wouldn’t be enough to protect you; it kept coming, spitting, hurtling, choking. You weren’t prepared–
“I could make it rain glass sideways, Charles.” Theo rolls to stand, burning his knees on the rough carpet in his haste. “I’d practically be a god on that planet.”
He would. He would be the one with the power to start storms. He would be the one with control over weather and grey clouds and everything else. He would be the one with control.
He’s in the kitchen holding a drinking glass. Theo remembers thinking how easily it would break.
“I can make it rain glass sideways.”
The glass arcs over the rickety table, and then crashes into the living room wall.
He screams, “I AM IN CONTROL.”
Then, the silence almost hurts. Just like that, what he’s done hurls him through stinging eyes, a heavy chest, and a encompassing buzz that seems to separate him from everything else. He can hear himself breathe but it could be someone else. It could be the ghost of his anger. It could be the other Theo Impransus hovering behind his ears, just out of sight, whispering words that clash gratingly inside his head; loud, loud, loud.
The shards are scattered freely over the hardwood. Pieces had skidded as far as the edge of the kitchen, where someone is standing. It might be himself, but he’s not quite sure.
He backs away from the mess. He doesn’t want to see it anymore.
No, he wants a bowl of cereal.
