After AnimeCon 2: Pancakes and Problems

    Christine’s stride felt positively buoyant as she carried her shopping bags towards the door to Brian’s apartment. There was a jubilant energy in each and every step she hadn’t experienced in years, as though she could happily hop forward or skip or dance her way around. Her willowy figure felt light and carefree, her skin was creamy, soft and radiant, and a giddy smile kept bubbling up.

    I know afterglow after sex is like a figure of speech, but this is a little ridiculous? Christine thought to herself. This is more than just like a glow. I feel fucking RADIANT. Sunlight is pouring into my mirror and shining EVERYWHERE. I’m like a WINDOW OF LIGHT.

    Embarrassed, she switched both plastic bags to one hand as she searched her pockets for a key—but she had surrendered it back to Emily ages ago the night she had broken up with Brian. Her hand rose into a timid fist poised to knock for a guilty moment, but then she changed her mind and instead tried the doorknob. It was unlocked and turned without any resistance, opening up into the apartment.

    I, um. I guess we need to figure out a system? Of some sort? Christine thought to herself as she bustled inside. For who has the key. Keys? Yeah.

    Past the counter she immediately spotted Brian cooking at the stovetop, wearing jeans but with his upper body bare. He was sexy. He was so sexy that it took her breath away. Letting her eyes soak in the lines of his neck and the breadth of his shoulders, lingering upon each masculine curve of musculature as her eyes slid down his arms, traveled eagerly across all of the definition in his back—Christine forgot where she was going and stumbled right into the edge of the sofa.

    She rebounded slightly, blinking in a daze as she recalled what they had done right there on this sofa last night. It felt like accidentally crossing the police tape. Like I’m a criminal revisiting the scene of the crime. And… and eager to sin again!

    “Christine? Hey,” Brian greeted her with a glance.

    “Heeey?” Christine gave him a shy wave even though he had already turned his attention back to the skillet. Her voice had come out in a weak, reedy undertone rather than her normal volume, and she awkwardly cleared her throat to try again but wasn’t able to muster up the courage. Instead, she peeked past Brian to sneak a look at what he was up to.

    A pale pair of pancakes were waiting on the skillet to be flipped, and she nibbled her lip absentmindedly as he probed their thickening edges with his spatula. There was surely some sexual allegory or metaphor Christine thought she could associate with the sight, but upon looking back at Brian’s shirtless body… she found herself too driven to distraction to think it through into clever words. Bright beams of something altogether alien and unfamiliar—happiness—were blinding out all of the bitter conceits her inner mirror usually offered.

    Wow. Wow do I—uh. Do I have something… POSITIVE to reflect on, now? And I just can’t get it out of my head?

    “Pancakes,” Brian explained.

    Any explanation was unnecessary, because what he was doing was as self-evident as the reason—the fridge was empty, and the small pantry almost barren save for dry goods such as their big box of pancake mix. As little as a month ago, Brian pointing out the obvious in such a way as this would have insulted and possibly even infuriated her, and some sort of scathing rebuttal or sudden, vehement disgust with pancakes would have popped right into mind. No such thoughts appeared, even though Christine paused for a moment waiting for them to materialize.

    “Cool, uh,” Christine struggled to even find her voice. “Yeah. Awesome?”

    She loved pancakes all of the sudden, and even felt the urge to gush and grovel over how sweet and thoughtful he was to have made her favorite—even though she was only in this moment discovering that it was now her favorite. The thought of just gazing at him with doe eyes from across plates of pancakes and feeling delicious surges of love and appreciation for how thoughtful, considerate, and capable he was thrummed in her tummy like someone was polishing glass until the surface squeaked.

    She could picture the haunting beauty of those mottled green eyes and his heroic posture. He would surely still be bare chested while they ate together? Together. Christine imagined shyly looking down and watching a dewy dribble of sticky syrup slide from the lip of one stacked pancake to the one beneath it. She adored pancakes. She would love to be stuffed full right now.

    I’m mixing metaphors like… like he mixed pancake mix? Fuck. That doesn’t even make sense. The pancake stuff is already a mix. He just adds uh. Adds fluid to it, and… and it’s ready. Just like me? Add in some baby batter, and I’m—

    “Was all I could find in the cupboard,” Brian said.

    She had inferred that already, but was quick to nod in obedient agreement, even though he was turned the other way and wouldn’t see. That felt good, there was a weird trickle of satisfaction in just going along with him on it instead of turning her mind towards exploiting any possible fault she could find. Wasn’t this easier? Didn’t weightless silver shimmers tickle her up body at the delightful prospect of being with Brian instead of against him?

    “Cool!” Christine said in a small voice.

    Possibly unnerved by how out of character that kind of response was after years of Chloe’s punishment, Brian turned again to check her expression. Christine perked up as his eyes flicked to her, it felt like her very soul rose up onto its tiptoes and basked in the lavish reward of him deigning to look upon her. Indeed, instead of the tired look of wariness reserved for her past self something warm lit up his eyes, and for a moment they moved—flicked up and down her figure, drinking her in. That would have driven Chloe ballistic. It was driving her ballistic right now, but in a very different way, and Christine couldn’t tell if she was short of breath or breathing too fast but her chest felt tight and her blouse suddenly needed adjusting with fidgeting, restless fingers.

    “I was uh… worried,” Brian remarked, turning his head for a split second to quickly flip both pancakes with smooth, practiced movements before returning to her.

    That was hot. This is hot? He is so fucking hot.

    “After last night, if last night was okay—if you’re alright,” Brian elaborated with a small smile. “Since you vamoosed before I woke up. But, it looks like everything’s good?”

    “Yeah! Yeah,” Christine felt a little laugh slip out before she could restrain herself. “Totally good. Really really good actually. Hah—‘vamoosed.’ That’s a uh. That’s a funny word? It feels funny. No, I mean I know what it means, just. Hi? Like—hi. I’m just. Wow?”

    “Know exactly what you mean,” Brian confided with a quirk of his lip. “Yeah. Was actually pretty worried last night with everything, but—yeah. I feel a lot better. After—all of that. I think it really did help. So; thank you.”

    “No no no!” Christine waved him off. “No, it was all—I should be thanking you! It was—that was—it uhhhh—!”

    “Any of that need ‘fridgerated?” Brian jerked his chin in the direction of her grocery bags.

    “Oh! Uh yeah,” Christine hurried around the counter and set both bags up beside the fridge. “I uh. I got groceries.”

    “Cool,” Brian nodded.

    He didn’t roll his eyes at her for mentioning the obvious, and this wasn’t the tense silence between them she was used to seeing from months past, either. They were just—communicating. Over simple and inconsequential things. Less because doing so was needed, and more just to hear each other’s voices, acknowledge each other, be verbally involved with one another. Pangs of puppy-love Christine hadn’t even imagined were possible coursed through her on waves of glittery reflective endorphins, because this was one of those cute relationship things she had been missing out on all of this time.

    “Oh, I uh!” Christine announced as she awkwardly fished out cheese and then eggs from the shopping bag and pulled open the fridge door. “I found a big set of markers. Dry erase. For the uh—for the board?”

    She glanced at the white board behind her for emphasis, even though she was fumbling with pushing things into the refrigerator at the same time. Her hands felt sluggish and clumsy this morning. Klutsy. Addled. Kelly had left a small brief note for them about heading out to work at the very bottom of the board, in brilliant red ink.

    “Did they actually have silver for that kind of marker?” Brian asked.

    “Almost! It’s pretty close, actually,” Christine affirmed. “Uh. ‘Charcoal,’ technically. It’s like between gray and brown, sort of? The shade is good enough. And uh, there’s pinks and reds and different blues and everything? A big full set. So we’ll have more for the board, or uh, if we just want to draw or do art or something? It’s like an art set.”

    “Maxmart?” Brian peeked over at the bags.

    “Oh uhh, yeah the groceries,” Christine said. “They only had little four-packs of basic colors for dry erase stuff there, though. Walked over to Jody-Annes. The fabric and crafts place, they had a much better selection. Then, I walked back.”

    “The whole way back across town from there?” Brian paused. “That’s a bit of a hike, right? Thought you called a ride share thing.”

    “Only to get out there in the first place, and—it—uhh, I dunno. It felt real nice out? Super nice. And, I feel great. Better than ever. The uh, like yeah I was carrying groceries, but I thought everything would be fine? I was only out for a bit. I think everything’s fine.”

    “You feel great?” Brian flipped the pancakes again.

    “I—I want to say I feel like a million bucks, but even that would be a lie?” Christine almost giggled. “I feel like a billion bucks? Maybe more? A trillion? I feel… amazing.”

    “Not too sore?”

    “Oh, definitely a little sore!” Christine beamed. “But, that’s perfect? Little uhh little kinda twinges, as a reminder? Painful twinges, like yeah that really smarts. Sitting down it was like—ouch. You um. You really fucking bashed my beaver?”

    That made Brian do a double-take, and for a moment he leveled an unsure smile and an incredulous stare in her direction—just long enough for her to realize the insane line that had popped out of her lips.

    “No well hahh I mean—” Christine blushed.

    “For a second I was like—what?” Brian chuckled. “Your lips are moving, but it’s like Emily’s words are coming out?”

    “Sorry! Sorry,” Christine quickly shoved the rest of the groceries into the fridge, hiding her smile. “I’m, um. I’m feeling super… up, right now? Not ‘high,’ but like—okay I guess ‘high?’ Like I’m… walking on rainbows? Heck, maybe I am, with all of that magic color whatever stuff, right?”

    “You do seem like you’re glowing,” Brian observed. “You look great.”

    “Th-thank you?!” Christine stammered.

    She hadn’t expected a compliment to ever hit her with that kind of brute force—it felt like his casual words bypassed a whole bunch of mental defenses and conscious barriers and was welcomed deep, deep inside her psyche. It made her feel—fluffy. Buttery. Like the pile of pancakes resting on the plate Brian was preparing, with the same little wisps of steam rising up. Christine wanted to be forked. She wanted to be eaten up by Brian.

    “I-I uh I think I just saw pancakes in my mirror?” Christine babbled out.

    “How… prescient of you?” Brian shared a grin with her. “Because—I just made pancakes.”

    “I uh, I know,” Christine gave him a dumb nod. “I—yeah. I saw. They’re right there.”

    “So—like, Kelly’s starlight divines the future, your mirror reflects… the present?” Brian teased. “Shows us the pancakes right in front of us? Is this a lesson to live in the moment? Do you think—”

    “Brian,” Christine interrupted in a breathy voice. “I-I want you to fuck me right now. Fuck me. Pl-please?”

    “No way,” Brian chuckled, shaking his head.

    He passed by her to retrieve the tall bottle of maple syrup from the cabinet, and then pulled out the top kitchen drawer to grab enough silverware for both of them. Christine found herself frozen in confusion—did he not hear her? She said she wanted to have sex. Weren’t guys supposed to always go for that? To jump at the chance? Did he think she wasn’t being serious?

    “B-but um,” Christine swallowed. “I… I really thought we could do it again. If you—is it that you don’t want to? Was it not… good?”

    “Here, plate for you,” Brian said. “Pancakes. I made a whole pile—figured if there’s any left over, Emmie or Kell can have ‘em.”

    “Brian?” Christine pleaded.

    “I… I do get it, feeling that kind of… lust,” Brian admitted, not meeting her eyes. “Last night was good. It was great. It was… a lot. We both need some time to uh, to sort all of that out. Before we jump blindly back in for more. You know? And, I mean—you said it yourself that you’re sore. I’m not sore, but I… I need some time. Since what all we get up to is never just physical sex anymore. You know? That last night, it took a lot out of me, or—or I guess, it revealed how much has been taken out of me.”

    “O-oh,” Christine all but whimpered. So, no sex.

    It was embarrassing that despite Brian being so candid with her and really opening up like this… Christine only really felt herself emotionally reacting to the we’re not going to have sex again right now part. The mental high she had been coasting on all morning began to subside a little, bleeding off altitude until Christine’s psyche dropped down to more human elevations.

    “Last night…” Brian paused to draw a quick zigzag of syrup across his pancake. “It was good. Weirdly good—but also, it was. Well. Not bad, but like I got a bunch of bad stuff out, and doing that is good? Just, also. Also doing that kind of. I don’t know how to explain it. Emptied me out, emotionally? It’s like—right afterwards, it’s like yeah the lid’s off and it’s not going back on, and I was just sort of sitting there and it felt like I had this huge… exposed wound that I, uh. I don’t know how to deal with in that way?”

    “Oh, Brian I’m so sorry—” Christine began, feeling her face crumple in despair.

    “No no, stop, I’m alright,” Brian assured her. “I uh, well I guess things worked out with… providence? Emily was there, and when me and her kissed, we… equalized our water tables? Magic levels? Emotional, uh… bullshittery? Fuck, I don’t know how to explain it. So, now I don’t feel… empty, but I feel like… it’s hard to even explain. Instead of that hollow nothingness left over from all of my problems, it’s like I’m borrowing some of her bullshit? For now? And, it’s not my bullshit, it’s hers—so I’m like, way way better equipped to handle it. Have a much better handle on it. I’d love to work through her problems, because—because they’re not my problems? Who wants to ever actually work through their own problems?”

    “I… see,” Christine fibbed.

    She didn’t really see, because all of that was dreamscape emotion abstractions she couldn’t begin to wrap her mind around, right now. There wasn’t any way to really even engage with all of that mentally—what did any of that even mean? Brian had borrowed Emily’s problems? Emily was full of self-image or confidence stuff she hid beneath an atrocious amount of dark humor. Brian didn’t seem to be… that.

    “You… um,” Christine tried not to stare. “You don’t seem to be… manifesting her… problems? Are they just… subtle?”

    “No, it’s…” Brian cut a section of pancake with the edge of his fork and then paused. “It’s complicated. There’s a… bit of a disconnect? Or uhh, incompatibility? We can’t just uh, trade problems, or something like that. Not literally. We’re like different operating systems, or something, with—well, we’re different people. Different minds, different just psychologically? And all that. It’s like I have some of her issues… ‘banked,’ and for later? If that makes sense? She’s not normally able to portion them out or break down her stuff into smaller bits on her own that she can tackle one by one. But, we can do that by exchanging… stuff? Maybe?

    “Hopefully, when I can give them back to her, they’ll be… easier for her to deal with? And, then at the same time I was—I had this horrible exposed emptiness inside of me, that was just—it was not good. Not good. And, displacing that with Emily’s issues was, well. She called it reactor coolant? It feels kind of like that. So, on her side of things we’ve reduced her water level a bit so that things can flow better, on my side of things I have some reactor coolant that’ll help me uhh. Deal with having real deep personal intimate parts of myself cored out and exposed? For now?”

    “Okay,” Christine gave him a slow nod. “That… makes a weird amount of sense? I guess? Was this something you two knew you could do?”

    “No? But, also—yes?” Brian gave her a nervous laugh. “It just felt—I don’t know. Last night it just clicked? She was right there, at just the right moment, with exactly what we needed right then and there, and so… yeah. It’s one of those suspiciously convenient charm things? Where everything really seems to come together.”

    “I did have that happen to me last night,” Christine admitted. “A. A whole bunch of um. Of… personal things seemed to align just right. By Emily being there, right then. It was… it was very, very weird. Intensely weird. Not bad, but… I don’t know how to feel about it.”

    “Yeah,” Brian nodded. “Here, eat, eat. Chloe hated my pancakes, so you should love ‘em.”

    “Hah,” Christine gave him a small smile. “Alright. Thank you for making breakfast.”

    “I was hungry, and easier to make a big batch than just a few,” Brian shrugged. “Besides, we have a big day ahead of us.”

    “We do?” Christine’s fork hesitated. “What?”

    “First thing I want to do is take care of things with your dad,” Brian said. “All of the money stuff. Apologize for what went on, together, because we are a couple and we’re doing this together. So, we’ll drive out there right after this and pay him a visit. Needs to be our priority, right now. If he’s working today until whatever specific time, we can wait. He lives like just two cities over, right? Winneport? Can take you out for lunch and make some kind of date of it, if he’s busy. If nothing else, I think all of that last night proved that you and I need to uh, to spend more one-on-one time alone together.”

    With each of his successive sentences Christine’s mood shifted and warped in a completely different direction, to the point that she had to put the fork back down and steady herself against the counter in front of them for balance. A bolt of abject panic laced through with fear and guilt, hot slivers of irritation with that psychopath Chloe for creating this clusterfuck in the first place, panic again, and then warm and weirdly fuzzy at the promise of solidarity. The dread weight of facing up to her father of all people—especially after last night and all of that—to settle accounts for more of her Chloe misdeeds, and then the fluttery floating vertigo of the prospect of Brian taking her out on a date was all horribly conflicting.

    “Ah,” Christine finally said. “I—I think I’m going to throw up? Hah ha…”

    “Hey,” Brian reached out and took her shoulder—the sudden contact jolted Christine, and silver flickered across her vision for an instant. “We’re going to be fine. I’ll be right there with you. We’ll explain it together, and it’ll be over and done with and a weight off your shoulders from then onwards. Okay? Just like it was with you helping me deal with stuff last night. We can do this.”

    “No, I mean—I don’t know,” Christine tried not to wince. “Have you um. You’ve never met my dad in person, have you? Just talked to him that one time on the phone call we had. Introduced yourself and that was practically it.”

    “You think he’ll be scary?” Brian asked. “I mean. Yeah, definitely not the circumstances I wanted to meet him in, but—”

    “Not scary, just—” Christine sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I guess… no matter what, I’ll get what I deserve. And, that’s that. I just wish I could undo all of those things, everything that Chloe was so fixated on. It’s… it’s all so fucking frustrating.”

    “I promise you won’t have to face any of it alone,” Brian said. “I’ll be right there with you.”

    “Thank you,” Christine said in a meek voice. “That means—that means everything to me. If, um, if you can promise you’ll fuck my face right afterwards? That will help even more. Then I can just focus on that, and everythi—”

    “You’re really stuck on the facefucking thing,” Brian grinned. “I, uh. Well I guess—”

    “If you’re doing all of this for me, then I should do something for you!” Christine insisted. “You can fuck my face. It’ll be—”

    “Alright, alright, we’ll see,” Brian shook his head. “Eat your damned pancakes. You really are turning into Emily, you know? This is getting out of hand! Now there are two of them!”

    “I was… I was maybe a lot like Emily, before,” Christine admitted, awkwardly scraping her utensil across the plate as she scooped up a portion of pancake. “I mean. Not exactly like her, but a little. I wasn’t as… snarky? I guess? I was just this awkward, gangly, weirdo… weeaboo Christine. I don’t know who to be, anymore. What ‘me’ to wear.”

    “I’m right there with you,” Brian gave her a solemn nod of understanding. “Especially after last night. Just—I guess we’ll figure it out. Yeah?”

    “We’ll figure it out when you’re fucking my face?”

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