''MEMORY'': //Ugly Blue Carpet//
by Grace Klein
She hides underneath the table and watches feet thunder past as the grownups rumble above her. She tries to count the shoes. Two: Mommy's shiny black heels (//only for work not playtime, Mommy has to change first//); four: Daddy's sneakers; five, six, eight, seven, ten: strange clumpy shoes that laced all the way up the ankles and shook the floor when they walked.
She looks down. She’s all out of fingers.
She wiggles her fingers in front of her eyes, watching the crowded living room flash in and out of existence. One of the strangers yells a word she isn’t allowed to say, and everyone laughs. She presses her hands over her ears to block out the noise.
Daddy is saying, //“We’re going to have to move the table.”//
Mommy says, //“Okay, on three.”//
//She// knows how to count to three. She whispers the numbers, following along as Mommy calls them out.
//“One.”// She raises her pointer finger.
//“Two.”// It’s joined by her middle finger, her pinky and ring fingers carefully held against her palm by her thumb.
//“Three!”//
She shrieks as the table suddenly disappears. Her thumb releases and her last two fingers spring up (which is //four// not three) as her hands fly up to cover her face. The table is hanging in the air now, held up by Mommy and Daddy and two strangers.
//“Erika!// What are you doing down there?” Mommy snaps.
Erika doesn’t know how to answer that, so just stares at Mommy’s only-for-work heels. Mommy huffs in the way she does when Erika has done something bad, then scoops Erika up so that she is over the table instead of under it.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Mommy says. “We’re moving the furniture, you could’ve gotten hurt.”
Erika squirms so that she can keep looking down at the table, which os moving away from them now. She tries out the new word in her mouth. “//Fur//-na-chur.”
Mommy kisses her on the forehead. “Yep. Like our new couch.” Mommy turns so that they are looking at the biggest chair Erika has ever seen. It is taller than Erika, and longer than the kitty even when he is stretched out all the way. Erika is pretty sure that her //and// Mommy //and// Daddy could all sit on it at once.
But most importantly it is the prettiest chair Erika has ever seen, because it is the color of the sky in all her picture books, the way it gets on really hot days when Mommy takes her to the pool now that she is old enough.
“Blue,” Erika gasps.
“Right again,” says Mommy. “Your father is a cheapskate, so he bought us the ugliest sofa imaginable.”
“Hey!” Daddy says, walking over with the strangers. “It came with free shipping and handling!”
Mommy makes a face that she calls //‘rolling her eyes,’// which is okay when Mommy does it, but not when Erika or Daddy do. “Worth it, I’m sure,” Mommy says. Then she puts her mouth right next to Erika’s ear and whispers. “Too late now, anyway. This ugly blue couch is ours forever.”
[[Next->Play Date]]
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Erika swings her legs anxiously against the edge of the sofa, bouncing them off the lightly padded surface. She runs her hands along the lines in the blue fabric, rubbing the fibers into her palms.
Chester slinks over and leaps up onto the couch, flicking his tail against her nose. She giggles and swats at him, squealing.
“Chester! Silly kitty,” she murmurs, holding her fingers out for a sniff before threading them through his fur. Chester purrs appreciatively.
“Sidney’s coming over today,” Erika informs him. Erika has never met Sidney before, but Mommy is friends with Sidney’s mom and says that they will like each other. This will be their first play-date. Mommy told her Sidney is coming over today at //four-thirty//. Right now the clock on the television says it is four-thirty-//one//, which means that Sidney is a minute late.
She fiddles with Chester’s tail until he shakes her hand off him and flounces away. His ears perk up. She follows his gaze, confused.
The doorbell rings.
Every muscle in Erika’s body goes rigid. She digs her nails into the seat of the couch. Sidney is here. She should go answer the door. She isn’t allowed to answer the door alone. She should go get Mommy to answer the door. She gathers her breath to yell out for Mommy, but Mommy is already walking right past her on her way out of the kitchen to go get the door.
She hears Mommy open the door. Her voice is overly cheery, but indistinct. Erika can’t make out what she’s saying, but someone is answering. Erika stays frozen, rooted to the couch.
Footsteps patter down the hall, too light to be Mommy’s. A girl, a little bit taller than Erika, rounds the corner. She is smiling and it makes her eyes all squinty and her eyebrows scrunch up in the middle. There is a scab on her chin and she is missing a tooth. Her hair sticks up in directions that Erika hadn’t known hair could go.
“Hi!” she shouts, thrusting out one grubby hand. “I’m Sidney.”
Erika eyes her from the couch. Mommy says it is rude not to shake stranger’s hands when they offer. But to shake Sidney’s hand, she has to get up. She considers her options.
Sidney must decide she is taking too long, because she bounces over to the couch, hand still outstretched. Sidney’s fingers are now hovering inches from Erika’s nose. The back of her hand is a dark brown, in contrast to the light pink of her palm and finger pads. Erika can see that each of her nails is painted like a different color of the rainbow.
Hesitantly, Erika reaches up to grip the proffered palm. It’s sticky.
Sidney clenches Erika’s hand in a death grip. Erika gulps.
“I’m Erika,” she offers. “My dad calls me Ricky.”
“Ricky,” Sidney repeats, not letting go. She smiles even wider, revealing two more missing teeth. “You’re my new best friend,” Sidney declares.
[[Next->PG-13 Movie]]
[[Previous->Been There Forever]]
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Ricky shuffles her feet and traces back of the couch with one hand while Sidney crouches on the floor, fiddling with the DVD player.
Sidney’s shorts are short -- shorter than Ricky’s mom would let her wear, shorter than school regulation, even -- but it’s summer and the air is hot and sticky and Ricky knows that as soon as they sit down the backs of their thighs will stick to the sofa fabric.
“Got it!” Sidney exclaims, pumping her fists victoriously. She scrambles across the room to the couch and tugs on Ricky’s hand until she crawls over the back and plops down on the cushion next to her. Ricky’s palm is sweaty, but Sidney doesn’t let go.
The DVD’s menu dominates the television screen, and the first bars of the movie’s theme drifting out of the speakers. Ricky twiddles the fingers on her free hand, and then squeezes it between her knees.
“Did your mom really say this was okay?” she asks, biting her lip.
Sidney laughs. “What my mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her!”
Ricky watches the jerky menu animation. She’s not supposed to watch PG-13 movies, //especially// not without her parents’ permission. But her parents are at work, and Sidney’s here, and Sidney thinks that it’s okay.
“You ready?” Sidney whispers. “My brother says this is one of his favorites -- and he’s a //total// Broadway snob.”
It’s a musical, so it can’t be //that// bad, right? Musicals are for Disney, and Disney is, like, the definition of “kid appropriate.”
Ricky nods forcefully, and Sidney presses play.
An hour later the two women on the television screen are kissing while some pasty guy in glasses sings about a dance called the “Maureen.” Ricky feels her face heat up. Sidney’s grip on Ricky’s hand tightens. Ricky looks over at her profile, lit by the television, but Sidney’s eyes are glued to the screen. She didn’t know girls could do that together. Did Sidney?
They finish the rest of the movie in silence.
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[[Previous->Beautiful Stranger]]
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Erika knows that the couch has been here since before she was born. Mommy sometimes jokes that it looks like //“someone went into labor on it”//, which means that a baby was born on the couch. There is only one baby in this house, which means that the baby must’ve been Erika.
She asks Mommy about it one time, but Mommy just laughs and laughs and laughs. Daddy flushes bright red and mumbles something about the stork.
Erika doesn’t think it matters much. This couch would be her favorite even if it weren’t the couch she was born on. It is the prettiest blue ever, and sometimes she likes to lie facing the back cushions so that all she can see is blue pretend that she’s actually floating in the sky.
It would make sense if the couch actually were the sky, she thinks, given what Daddy said about storks.
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It’s past Ricky’s bedtime, but her parents are asleep and she doesn’t have school tomorrow. The Shabbos candles are burning low on the kitchen counter, and she can hear Sidney breathing lightly in her sleeping bag on the floor. On the couch, Ricky wraps the blanket tighter around herself.
Ricky rubs the ears of her teddy bear. Sidney’s brother says she’s getting too old for stuffed animals, but Sidney hit and told him to stop, then smiled at Ricky and said that //she// thought Mr. Buns was cute. Ricky likes it when Sidney smiles. It makes her stomach flutter and her fingertips tingle.
Ricky can just see Sidney’s lips, cast in the flickering candlelight. Ricky’s cheeks feel flushed and taught.
“Sidney?” Ricky whispers. “You awake?”
Sidney grumbles and cracks an eye open. “I am now,” she hisses.
“Sorry,” Ricky mumbles, going quiet.
Sidney sits up, the sleeping bag shifting to pool around her hips. The collar of her baggy sleep-shirt is slipping down her shoulder. Ricky can’t tear her eyes away from the way the light reflects off her collarbone.
“No, no,” Sidney huffs, “you already woke me up, so now you’ve got to finish your thought.”
“It’s silly,” Ricky mumbles, rolling over on the couch so that her back is to Sidney.
Sidney scoots over to the couch, so that she’s draped her upper-body over Ricky’s ribs. Ricky feels her skin catch fire at the contact.
“Come on,” Sidney commands. “Spill.”
Ricky’s mouth is suddenly dry, and she licks her lips. “Well, I was just wondering…”
“What?” Sidney demands, poking her. Ricky giggles.
“I was just wondering if you’d ever kissed anybody, is all,” Ricky finishes, all in one breath.
Sidney goes stiff, but then forcefully relaxes, still sprawled over Ricky. “Oh, is that all?” she teases.
Ricky shrugs, but it’s small so as not to shift Sidney too much. She likes the feel of her weight on top of her.
Sidney’s hand threads through the blankets until she finds Ricky’s. She starts playing with Ricky’s fingers.
“Yep,” Sidney says, suddenly, popping the p like a bubblegum bubble.
Ricky goes rigid. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Sidney continues, “John Macintosh from next door. I kissed him in the second grade.”
“Oh,” Ricky mumbles, deflated.
“What?” Sidney asks. “Haven’t you? Kissed anybody, I mean. Not just John Macintosh.”
Ricky mutters something into her pillow.
“What was that?” Sidney cajoles, tugging on their intertwined fingers.
Ricky raises her face just long enough to groan //“No!”// before flopping back into the pillow.
“Aww, really?” Sidney hums. “Don’t worry about it, Ricky. You’ve still got time.”
“We’re going to be //high-schoolers// next year and I haven’t even had my first kiss!” Ricky whines. “Everyone’s going to think I’m such a //baby//.”
Sidney goes still. Finally, hesitantly she says, “I could help you out, maybe.”
“What?” Ricky gasps.
“I could help you, you know, with the kissing thing,” Sidney repeats.
Ricky feels every inch of her body go hot all at once. //Kissing//. //Sidney//. Kissing //Sidney//.
She opens her mouth to say no, but all that comes out is, “Okay.”
Sidney’s grip on her hand slackens. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Ricky’s traitorous mouth blurts out. “Let’s do it.”
“Okay,” Sidney agrees, “but you gotta flip over first.”
Ricky flushes, and rolls over, shuffling under the shifting weight of Sidney’s body. Now Sidney’s slumped sideways on top of her, so that her head is resting on Ricky’s shoulder. Ricky can feel the little hot gusts of Sidney’s breath against her cheek. She thinks her face might burst from the pressure.
“Ready?” Sidney whispers.
Ricky can’t think of anything to say, so she just squeezes Sidney’s hand. Sidney pushes herself up on her forearms, so that her face is hovering just over Ricky’s. Sidney’s eyelashes are so long Ricky thinks they might tangle up in Ricky’s when she blinks.
“I’ve been wondering for a while,” Sidney admits, words slick against Ricky’s chin. “What it’s like. With a girl, I mean.”
Ricky grins despite herself. “Well, I’m no John Macintosh,” she quips.
“Shut up!” Sidney giggles, swatting at her shoulder.
“//Make me,//” Ricky dares.
So Sidney kisses her.
It’s softer than anything else in the world. Like squeezing impossibly warm ice cubes against her lips and holding them there until they melt. She can just barely taste Sidney’s cherry chapstick, feel the places where her lips are chapped from nervous chewing.
Ricky’s head presses back into the pillow as Sidney pushes forward until their noses bump. Ricky snorts indignantly, but Sidney just huffs a laugh into Ricky’s mouth, and Ricky can feel Sidney’s lips tug taught when she smiles.
An eternity later, Sidney pulls away. She slips back down onto Ricky’s shoulder as Ricky tries to catch her breath.
“//Definitely// better than John Macintosh,” Sidney declares.
[[Next->Sick Fic]]
[[Previous->When I Realized]]
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Erika is petting Chester. She has a play-date with Sidney today. She’s never met Sidney before, but she thinks they will like each other. Chester purrs and butts his head against her palm, and Erika giggles. He licks her fingertips, and she almost forgets to be nervous.
When she looks up, there’s a girl standing there.
She’s eye-catching, and Erika can’t tear her gaze away. The girl -- //Sidney// -- is smiling, and it lights up her whole face. Her hair floats around her head like a crown. She’s taller than Erika, and her clothes seem a size too small -- like she just hit a growth spurt, and her mom hasn’t managed to drag her to the store yet.
There’s a gap in her grin where a front tooth used to be, and her little pink tongue is poking through it. Her lips are thick and Erika’s stare lingers there, on her smile.
She’s been looking for too long. She’s probably made Sidney uncomfortable, Sidney probably wants to leave now, Erika should just --
Sidney is suddenly right next to the couch, hand out-stretched, waiting. Erika stares at her fingers, long and soft, like she thinks a princess’s might be. Her nails are each painted a different color of the rainbow.
Erika hesitantly reaches up to take her hand. Sidney squeezes it gently, like she’s trying out the way their hands feel together. Erika swallows hard.
“I’m Erika,” she offers, stuttering nervously. “My friends call me Ricky.”
“Ricky,” Sidney echoes, not letting go. Sidney smiles even wider, and her lips stretch pink across her face.
“I like you,” Sidney decides. “We’re going to be best friends.”
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She doesn't remember a house without the blue couch, dominating the living room. Mom and Dad must’ve bought it before she was born. Sometimes she wonders if she’d been born //on// the couch, but Mom and Dad took her to see her little cousin being born, and that was in a hospital, so she was probably born in a hospital too.
But if she //wasn’t// born in a hospital, that might explain some of the bigger stains on the sofa.
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Today is terrible and there is no possible way it could get any worse.
Mom is at work, and Dad is out at another job interview. Ricky’s stuck here on the couch because her muscles feel like mush and her nose is an achy waterfall in the middle of her face, and Chester refuses to leave his sentinel station in the opposite corner of the room to come cuddle with her.
She tosses a balled up tissue at him out of spite. He sniffs it and flicks it away with his tail, giving her an indignant glare as he stalks out of the room.
She checks her phone. No texts from Sidney, but school doesn’t let out for at least another hour.
She flops back into the couch cushions, fumbling for the TV remote. Maybe something good came on while she wasn’t watching. It’s been at least a minute, right?
Mom says she can’t take anymore DayQuil until three, which is terrible. The FDA is terrible. Everything is terrible.
Her stomach rumbles. Mom bought those microwave pizzas Ricky likes last time she went to the store, but that was a week ago and they’re all out now. Ricky gazes at the magazine-covered kitchen counter from the couch, and concludes that the only things available to eat in the entire house are year-old copies of TIME and stale matzo from last Passover.
Ricky snatches another tissue from the box and blows her nose loudly in protest. The end of it itches like it might explode off her face. She wonders how much snot would be strewn across the room if it did. Would they have to get a whole new couch?
The doorbell rings. The noise cuts into her pounding head like a knife.
Ricky stares down the hall in the general direction of the front door. It seems an impossible distance.
The doorbell rings again. And again. And again and again and again, until it’s just a constant drone of horrible, high-pitched sound
Ricky groans and peels herself off the couch, staggering down the hall.
“Who is it?” she yells, throat burnt raw from mucus drainage.
“//It’s me, doofus, open up!//” Sidney shouts back, voice muffled through the doorframe. Ricky stumbles up to the door and flicks it open, blanket draped around her shoulders like a cape.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” she grumbles, squinting against the sunlight, syllables clipped short by her stuffy nose.
“Aren’t you not supposed to answer the door when you’re home alone?” Sidney retorts, shoving through the crack and into the foyer.
“I’m almost sixteen, I can answer as many doors as I want,” Ricky mumbles, sniffling.
“That’s not what your mom says,” Sidney tosses over her shoulder, striding down the hall, backpack in hand. Ricky trails after her like a woozy ghost.
“Well my mom can--” Ricky sneezes convulsively before she can finish her thought.
“Aw, hun,” Sidney tsks, ushering her to the couch. “You’re a wreck.”
“//You’re// a wreck,” Ricky mutters, slumping back into the blue cushions. She pulls the blanket up over her head and squeezes her eyes shut.
“No, I’m perfect,” Sidney corrects. “And you,” Sidney adds, tugging the blanket down so that she can peck Ricky on the forehead, “are adorable. Even when you’re literally overflowing with plague.”
Ricky sniffs pathetically and tilts her head back for a real kiss. Sidney just laughs at her.
“Not on your life,” Sidney swears. “I love you, but not enough to willingly subject myself to,” she waves a hand at the growing mountain range of used tissues on the couch, “whatever is trying to kill you right now.”
Ricky blushes, but it only makes her cheeks throb worse than they already do. She moans piteously, and rubs at them to make them stop.
“Here,” Sidney offers, pulling a sloshing tupperware out of her backpack. “My mom sent soup.”
Ricky’s nose is too stuffed to let any air in, but she’s sure it smells delicious. She reaches out eagerly, taking the proffered bowl and spoon. She pops the top off, spilling a bit of soup onto her lap and the couch.
“Scoot over,” Sidney commands, plopping down on the couch cushions next to her, opposite the tissue graveyard. She swings her legs up onto the sofa and stretches out so that Ricky can scoot back to lean against her chest. Everything is warm and comfortable, and Ricky feels herself relax for the first time all day.
"I'm so lucky to have you," Ricky admits, once her stomach has quieted. "I can't imagine what life was like without you."
Sidney laughs. "Do you even remember how we met?" she teases.
"Uh," Ricky tries, rubbing at her nose. "I'm sick. I can't remember //anything.// I caught, like, airborne amnesia. But I'm //sure// I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen and fell in love with you //immediately//."
"Right," Sidney drawls, and Ricky can feel her grinning into the back of her neck. "That's //absolutely// what happened. It's not like you were literally glued to the couch with fear or anything, Miss 'Airborne Amnesia.'"
Ricky is //certain// that's a lie, but feels herself blush anyway. It only adds to the feverish jackhammering in her temples. "Shut up," she mutters, deciding to change the subject. "How’d you get here so fast? Is school even out yet?”
“I have home room sixth period,” Sidney explains, apparently agreeing to take pity on Ricky’s poor sick-addled brain and not point out the ham-handed segue, “I just told them I wasn’t feeling well, called my mom, and left. She agreed that my suffering petri dish of a girlfriend is more important than the principal’s latest PSA about teen cough syrup abuse.”
“I could really use some cough syrup right now,” Ricky grumbles.
“When’s the last time you took cold meds, grumpy?”
Ricky huffs and checks the clock, setting the empty tupperware on the table.
“I’ve still got another hour to go before my next dose,” she laments, slouching back against Sidney’s soft sweater.
“Mmm,” Sidney hums, nuzzling into Ricky’s neck. “Guess I’ll just have to distract you until then.”
[[Next->Tense]]
[[Previous->Soulmates]]
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Sidney is bent over the DVD player, her shorts riding up her thighs. Her outfit is definitely in violation of the school dress code. But it’s summer, so there’s no one here to make her change, and Ricky doesn’t want to say anything in case that tells Sidney that she noticed.
“Get it!” Sidney exclaims, pumping her fist. She swaggers over to the couch and plops down next to Ricky, snuggling in close. Ricky feels her palms heat up.
Sidney holds her hand out expectantly, until Ricky deposits her own into it. Ricky’s fingers are sweaty, but Sidney doesn’t let go.
“Did your mom really say this was okay?” Ricky asks, biting her lip.
Sidney laughs. “What my mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her!”
Ricky watches the DVD menu screen cycle through its animation loop. She is not allowed to watch PG-13 movies without her parents’ permission. But her parents aren’t here, and with Sidney this feels almost…dangerous.
She likes it.
“Ready?” Sidney whispers, breath hot in Ricky’s ear.
Ricky can’t think of anything to say, so she just squeezes Sidney’s hand. Sidney presses play.
An hour later the two women on the television screen are kissing. Ricky feels her face heat up. Sidney’s grip on Ricky’s hand tightens. Ricky looks over at her profile, the flickering light turning her skin almost blue. She can see the colors of the movie reflected in the slight wetness of Sidney’s lips.
She didn’t know that two women could do that together. She thinks, maybe she wants this. Maybe she wants to try it too. Does Sidney?
They finish the rest of the movie in silence.
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[[Previous->Love At First Sight]]
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Ricky’s palms are sweaty, and she rubs them back and forth along the rough fabric of the couch. It heats her skin, but it’s a humid heat, and she feels even more nervous than before.
She has a play-date with Sidney today. She’s never met Sidney before, but their mothers are friends, so they have to like each other. She is ready to like Sidney, she thinks. But what if Sidney doesn’t like //her//?
Chester leaps up on the couch, asking for attention. She shoos him away. What if Sidney is //pretty//?
Chester is frozen in the hallway, listening. Erika watches his tail whip back and forth rhythmically.
When she looks up, Sidney’s standing there.
She is the most beautiful girl Ricky’s ever seen, and she can’t tear her eyes away. Her hair is a halo around her head. She is smiling, and it lights up her whole face, turning her cheeks red and the corners of her eyes upwards so that her thick lashes brush against each other. She’s tall, and the bottoms of her shorts swish around the tops of her thighs. Her shirt is riding up around her waist.
There’s a gap in her grin where a front tooth used to be, and her little pink tongue is poking through it. Her lips are thick and Ricky’s gaze lingers there, on her mouth.
Sidney strolls over to the couch, utterly at ease with herself. Ricky is at once envious and entranced.
Sidney holds out a hand. Ricky stares at her fingers, long and soft, like she thinks a pianist’s might be. Her nails are each painted a different color of the rainbow and glitter when they catch the light.
“Hi,” she hums, “I’m Sidney.”
Ricky takes Sidney’s hand to shake it, and her skin is warm and velvety. Sidney’s grip is gentle, but she does not let go.
“I’m Erika,” Ricky offers, voice too breathy. “You can call me Ricky.”
“Ricky,” Sidney echoes, squeezing her hand a bit tighter. Ricky blushes. “I like you. I’m going to marry you,” Sidney declares.
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The house came fully furnished -- a great deal in a backsliding economy. Her mother had been less than amused by the previous owners’ selections, citing questionable taste. Her father was just happy that he didn’t have to go furniture shopping and had a bed to sleep in their first night there.
Ricky’s glad that her mom was too busy to push the issue, because she knows that the first thing to go would’ve been the couch. And she //loves// the couch -- she’s grown up on the couch, slowly eroding the cushions so that they fit her body //just right//, adding to its ever-accumulating collection of enigmatic stains.
She can’t count the number of times she’s heard Mom say something snide about the sofa, but so far she hasn’t turned that irritation into action, and Ricky hopes it stays that way.
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The movie is over, but Sidney isn’t saying anything. Sidney sits still and stiff at the edge of the couch. Ricky tries to take her hand, but Sidney slides it out of reach. Ricky squeezes her hands between her legs and stares down at the ground.
“Terrible movie, right?” Ricky offers, voice cracking nervously. The sound grates on her ears in the stifling silence. "Reminds me of that one we watched when were kids."
Sidney seems to snap back to reality. “Yeah,” she squeaks, swiveling around to stare at Ricky.
Ricky stares at her, worried. Sidney presses into her side, so close that they can’t actually turn their heads to look at each other. Ricky stares at Sidney’s nails instead. They’re painted in the school colors, in honor of spirit day. Sidney said that she wanted to take advantage of her last few pep rallies, since they’ll be graduating this spring.
“Do you think college is really like that?” Sidney finally asks. Her fingers curl into her palms.
Ricky laughs, but it’s a breathy, anxious sound. “Their target audience is tweens,” she quips. “So I’d say probably //no//.”
“Yeah,” Sidney murmurs. “Yeah, of course.” She pulls back to look Ricky in the eyes. “You’re right. It’s just a silly movie.”
Ricky searches her face, but something feels off. “Are you sure you’re--”
Sidney cuts her off with a kiss and the conversation ends there.
[[Next->Break-Up]]
[[Previous->Reluctant Caregiver]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
It happens at one of their sleepovers. Sidney’s a staple at Shabbos dinner these days, and it’s an unspoken rule that afterwards she stays the night. The candles are burning low in the kitchen. If she turns her head slightly, she can see Sidney’s profile outlined in the flickering light.
Ricky is warm underneath the blankets, and everything feels soft and languid in the candlelight. She is comfortable. The sound of Sidney’s breath fills a hole she didn’t know existed.
“Sidney?” Ricky whispers, half-asleep herself. “You awake?”
“Yeah,” Sidney murmurs, voice drowsy and thick. She rolls over, and Ricky can see the light pooling in the concavity of her collarbone. Shadows flutter off the ends of her eyelashes.
“I was just wondering…” Ricky starts, licking her lips.
“What?” Sidney prompts, propping herself up on one arm.
“I was just wondering if you’d ever kissed anybody, is all,” Ricky mutters, cheeks throbbing.
Sidney sits up fully, and scoots over to the couch, so that she’s looking Ricky dead in the eyes. “Is that all?” she asks.
Ricky avoids her searching gaze. “Yeah, of course.”
“Well then,” Sidney begins, crawling up on the couch and draping herself over Ricky’s chest. Her head fits perfectly into Ricky’s shoulder. Ricky feels her whole body relax under the weight. “I guess the answer’s yes.”
“Really?” Ricky demands, chest tensing with disbelief.
“Yep. Little John Macintosh in the second grade,” Sidney confirms. Something in Ricky turns hot and angry. He got there //first//. “It wasn’t very good. ”
Sidney’s silent for a while before adding, “I bet you’d be better.”
Ricky thinks her face might explode from the sudden flush of blood. “What?” she gulps, chuckling nervously. “No way. I’ve never even kissed anyone. I’m, like, a kiss virgin.”
“I could fix that,” Sidney offers.
If Ricky’s face really does burst, would they have to get a new couch? Bloodstains are notoriously hard to wash out.
“Really?” Ricky squeaks.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Sidney admits. “What it’d be like to kiss you.”
Ricky can’t think of anything to say, so she just nods. Sidney pushes herself up on her forearms, pressing Ricky’s shoulders further into the couch. Her face is hovering just over Ricky’s. Sidney’s eyelashes are so long Ricky thinks they might tangle up in Ricky’s when she blinks.
“Is this okay?” Sidney asks, breath hot on Ricky’s chin.
“Okay,” Ricky echoes.
“Okay,” Sidney agrees.
Then she kisses her.
It’s like fireworks, if fireworks were soft instead of scary. It’s like every nerve in Ricky’s body is suddenly tuned in to her lips, and it takes every synapse in her body just to keep Sidney here, kissing her. She melts into the feeling, and something in the back of her fuzzy brain just //clicks.//
It’s perfect.
[[Next->Sick Fic]]
[[Previous->First Date]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
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[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
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(set: $youTried to true)
Sidney’s crouched on the living room floor, fiddling with the DVD player. Her shorts are definitely against school dress code, probably something she dug out of her closet from last summer. But it’s not like there’s anyone here to make her change, and //Ricky// sure isn’t going to complain.
“Okay!” Sidney exclaims, pumping her fist in the air. “Got it!” She scrambles to her feet and brushes the carpet burns off her knees before striding over to the couch.
“Scoot,” Sidney commands, plopping down on the cushions next to her. She swings her legs up onto the sofa and stretches out so that Ricky can scoot back to lean against her chest. She fits perfectly into the sweep of Sidney’s torso; Ricky feels every part of her body light up at the contact.
“Aren’t you not supposed to borrow your brother’s movies?” Ricky asks, staring at the DVD menu screen and fiddling with the ends of her sleeves.
Sidney snickers. “Aren’t you supposed to ask your parents’ permission before watching anything above a G-rating?” she retorts, reaching down to claim one of Ricky’s hands.
“I’m almost thirteen, I can watch whatever I want,” Ricky mumbles, tapping her nails against the back of Sidney’s hand.
“That’s not what your mom says,” Sidney reminds her.
“Do you want to watch this movie or not?” Ricky snaps, trying to tug her hand free. Sidney keeps it in a solid grip, stroking the side with her thumb.
“Calm down,” Sidney murmurs into the back of her neck, giving their intertwined hands a squeeze. “I was just teasing.” She flicks the remote, turning the movie on.
Ricky flushes. But it’s nothing compared to her blush an hour later, when the two women on screen are trying their best to push their tongues through each other’s jaws.
Sidney’s grip on Ricky’s hand tightens, and she goes stiff against Ricky’s back. Ricky cranes her neck to glance over at her profile, and sees that Sidney’s eyes are shining over bright in the flickering light of the television screen.
Ricky didn’t know that two women could do that together. She thinks about it for a long time, so long she almost misses the rest of the song. She thinks, maybe, she understands why Sidney wanted to see this movie so badly she was willing to risk her brother's righteous wrath to borrow it.
They finish the film in silence.
[[Next->Soulmates]]
[[Previous->Story for the Grandkids]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
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Her palms are sweaty. She vigorously rubs them dry against the couch. Today is their first date -- //play// date -- and she wants to make a good impression. Today is important, in a way that no day before it has been important. If anything goes wrong today, she will have lost something integral before she even ever found it.
Chester wanders over to twine around her shins. She wants to pet him, but she also doesn’t want to get cat fur on her black shorts. Chester goes still with one paw still perched possessively on her foot. She follows his gaze to the hallway threshold.
When she looks up, standing there is the prettiest girl she’s ever seen.
She’s smiling, and Ricky can’t tear her eyes away. Ricky knows in an instant that she’ll do anything to make sure this girl keeps smiling. That if she stops smiling, all the light in the world will wink out at once.
“Hi,” the girl chirps, “I’m Sidney.”
She -- //Sidney// -- holds out a hand expectantly. Ricky can’t move; Chester is keeping her pinning to the floor. Blushing furiously, she motions jerkily at the cat that’s taken up residence on her foot.
Sidney giggles, and it’s the most beautiful sound Ricky’s ever heard. Bells made of stars that burst behind her eyelids. Sidney strides over and holds her hand out again, this time within reach. Ricky can see that each of her nails is painted a different color the rainbow.
Face as red as Sidney’s left thumbnail, Ricky reaches out to take her hand. Sidney holds it in a soft grip, seemingly with no intention to let go.
“I’m Erika,” Ricky blurts out. She clears her throat nervously, amending, “//You// can call me Ricky.”
Then what she’s just said registers in her ears, and she resists the urge to bury her face in her knees.
“Ricky,” Sidney echoes, trying the name out on her tongue. “I like it,” she decides. “I’m going to marry a Ricky some day.”
[[Next->First Date]]
[[Previous->Mom's Decision]]
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Ricky is frozen. It feels like every tendon in her body snapped at once, leaving her limp and immobile, a statue made entirely of bone.
“What?” she croaks.
“I just can’t do it, Ricky,” Sidney sobs. “I’m so sorry. Long distance doesn’t //work//, you know that. You //have// to know that.”
Sidney sits just on the other end of the couch, but it feels like she’s miles away already. Ricky can’t reach out to touch her. She can’t even seem to think in words anymore.
“But--” she stammers. “But you said--”
“//I know what I said, Ricky!//” Sidney shouts, exploding off the couch. She paces around the end of the couch; hands jerking up and down like glitching pistons. “But I’ve been talking to my brother and he said--”
“Your brother?” Ricky echoes, then feels rage burst out from her chest to flush her cheeks. “//Fuck// your brother! What does //he// know?”
“More than you, apparently!” Sidney snaps. “Long distance never //works//, Ricky! I’ll be halfway across the country in three weeks, and you’re still going to be //here//. Living at home, probably sleeping on this damn couch!
“We’re just--” Sidney huffs, swiping her hand across her face. “We’re in different places. //I mean// -- I don’t know what I mean. We’ll //be// in different places.”
“You’d said you’d try,” Ricky whimpers, pressing her palms into her eye sockets. “You said we were //different.//”
Sidney looks like she wants nothing more than to reach out and pull Ricky into a hug, but she won’t let herself. Why won’t she let herself?
“I’m so sorry, Ricky,” Sidney murmurs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want it to end like this.”
“It doesn’t //have// to!” Ricky insists.
“Yes it //does//,” Sidney sighs. “I -- you’re important to me. You’ve been the most important thing in my life for longer than I can remember. I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”
She stands in the threshold to the hallway, and Ricky is glued to the couch. Ricky can see that her eyes are wet with tears.
“It might take a while, but,” Sidney pleads, voice cracking, “I hope we can be friends again some day.”
Ricky wishes they could just,
go back.
[[Next->College]]
[[Previous->Proto-Break-Up]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
(set: $finishedMainRoute to true)
Ricky’s nose aches like it’s trying to restrain the full power of Old Faithful contained inside her sinuses. A little bit of snot trickles out. She sniffs indignantly at the betrayal and wipes her red raw nose with a rapidly dissolving tissue.
Her throat itches and her water glass is empty. She could go fill it up, but that would require prying herself off the couch, and she’s pretty sure her muscles have turned to sludge underneath her skin.
She digs her phone out from beneath a pile of blankets and used tissues. No texts from Sidney.
She decides to drown her disappointment in bad television, and starts slowly searching for the remote.
She’s on her second episode of daytime soaps -- just //leave// him already, Janice, you know he’s is only holding you back -- when the doorbell rings.
At first she thinks it’s just part of the show, but it doesn’t have the budget for those sorts of special effects. The way it sounds like someone drilling screws into her skull is simply too realistic.
Apparently it’s some //real life// asshole ringing the doorbell incessantly. Why don’t they just dig knives into her ears, at least //that// would be a fast death.
She flops off the couch and staggers down the hallway.
“Who is it?” she groans, face planted into the cool wood of the front door.
“//It’s me!//” Sidney shouts, “//Open up, Typhoid Mary!//”
Ricky seriously considers just leaving her there -- she couldn’t even be bothered to //text a warning?// -- but figures that if she does nothing Sidney will just go on ringing the doorbell like an asshole.
“I’m indecent,” Ricky lies, opening the door just a crack and squinting her eyes almost shut against the light.
“That’d be hot if you weren’t, like, half-dead,” Sidney teases. “I’m not into necrophilia.”
Ricky is too tired to think of a comeback. Instead she grumbles, “Why are you here?”
Sidney looks offended. “What? I can’t visit my girlfriend when she’s sick?”
Ricky rubs at the bridge of her nose, trying to force her headache back down into her joints with the rest of the swelling.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” she amends. “Just -- is school even out yet?”
“Ha!” Sidney scoffs. “Like it matters if I skip homeroom every once in a while. I’ve got, like, a 4.5 -- admin can’t touch me. I’m Ivy League bait.”
Ricky snorts but even she’s not sure if she’s laughing or choking on her own snot. They feel about the same at this point. She hauls the door open all the way and Sidney squeezes in past her, carrying a sloshing stack of tupperware.
Ricky trails her into the living room. Sidney eyes the mountain range of used tissues on the couch and perches gingerly at the edge of the cushions, careful not to touch any. Ricky falls down face first to her, rolling her neck to eye Sidney. Perfectly put together as always, but she looks…stiff.
Sidney sets the tupperware down on the coffee table, and Ricky reaches over to hold her freed hands, but Sidney slides them out of reach. Ricky scowls.
“Sorry, love, can’t risk it,” Sidney explains. “Got a history test tomorrow.
“But look!” she continues, popping open one of the plastic containers. The smell is divine. “Mom sent soup!”
Ricky feels her throat burn with excitement. Her stomach growls in protest, already feeling full of mucus, but dehydration wins out. At last, //liquid// that isn’t generated by her sinuses.
“You’re //perfect,//” Ricky declares, taking the bowl and spoon from her.
“Tell that to my mom,” Sidney laughs.
“You’re both perfect. Your family is perfect. You’re the perfect girlfriend.”
Sidney smiles at her, but something about it seems pointed. On edge.
“Yeah,” Sidney agrees, reaching for the television remote to drown out the rest of the conversation, “I guess I am.”
[[Next->Tense]]
[[Previous->Did She Want to Kiss Me?]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
(set: $youTried to true)
It’s late, and the room is cast in shadow from the fading of the candles on the kitchen counter. Ricky thinks she can hear the wax dripping onto the marble in the too-quiet of the living room. She can definitely hear Sidney’s slow, deep breaths drifting up from the floor.
Ricky rolls over on the couch, pulling the blanket cocoon tighter around herself. She pulls it up over her ears, but still can’t block out the static noise of silence. She pushes her teddy bear hard into her stomach, but even the pressure isn’t distracting enough. She flips over to look down at Sidney.
“Hey, Sidney,” she hisses. “You awake?”
Sidney groans and shifts in her sleeping bag, but doesn’t say anything.
“Sidney?” Ricky insists.
“What?” Sidney croaks, cracking one eye open.
“Sorry,” Ricky murmurs, face burning with sudden shame. “It’s nothing.”
Sidney’s squeezes her eyes shut, face tight. “Is it the sort of nothing where you’re gonna stay up all night worrying about it?” Sidney demands.
“…No,” Ricky lies.
“Tell me,” Sidney commands. “Or else //neither// of us is going to get any sleep tonight.”
“It’s silly,” Ricky mumbles.
“If it’s silly enough to make you disrupt my //very important// scheduled sleep schedule, then I’m sure it’s the sort of silly I need to know about.”
“It’s just…we’re going to high school next year, and I haven’t even kissed anybody,” Ricky admits. “And I know everybody //else// has already. I’m like a -- //loser// compared to all of you.”
Ricky can practically hear Sidney rolling her eyes. “You are //not// a loser,” Sidney retorts. “I bet half the //seniors// still haven’t kissed anybody yet. Who told you that, anyway?”
Ricky feels her cheeks heat up. “Oh, you know, it’s just, like, in books and movies and stuff,” she mutters.
“Movies are stupid,” Sidney declares.
“Well have //you// kissed anybody?” Ricky demands, feeling under attack.
Sidney goes quiet for a while. “Well, yeah, I guess,” she admits, then quickly adds, “but only once! And it was just John Macintosh. And we were in the //second grade.//”
“The second grade!” Ricky repeats, incredulous. “Man, I am //so// behind.”
“Stop saying that!” Sidney snaps. “You’re not -- you know what? If this is bothering you so much, //I’ll// kiss you.”
“What?” Ricky squeaks.
“Yeah,” Sidney decides, “Just give me a second.”
Ricky hears her unzip her sleeping bag and pad over to the couch.
“Well?” Sidney demands.
Ricky sits up. She’s fairly certain her face is on fire.
“Are you sure about this?” Ricky asks, searching Sidney’s face for signs of hesitancy.
“Oh, shut up already,” Sidney orders, and then kisses her.
It’s hard and soft all at once, and it swallows all of Ricky’s words. The sensation sweeps over her and she wishes, somewhere deep inside where she buries all her hopeless dreams, that this could last forever.
[[Next->Reluctant Caregiver]]
[[Previous->Uncomfortably Raunchy Movie]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
Ricky fidgets nervously on the edge of the couch. She sits on her hands to still them, then shifts up into a ball and squeezes them between her knees. Sidney is coming over today. She’s never met Sidney before, but Ricky’s mom says she //has// to like her.
Chester comes to hover around Ricky’s feet, but Ricky shoos him away. She doesn’t need any more distractions.
The doorbell rings, and Ricky is frozen with fear. She can hear voices filtering in from down the hall. Someone is laughing too loudly. There are footsteps, running, and then --
A girl skids to a stop in the threshold of the hallway. She’s tall, almost intimidatingly so, and prettier than Ricky ever hopes to be. The girl’s clothes cling to her like she was born in them, and her smile lights up the whole room.
“Hi!” the girl shouts, thrusting out a hand. “I’m Sidney!”
Ricky doesn’t know what to do with that. There’s at least ten feet between her and Sidney -- should she get up and go over to her? Ignore the proffered hand? Mom says it’s rude not to shake people’s hands, but --
Sidney has solved the problem. She is standing right in front of Ricky, hand intruding into her personal space, fingertips hovering inches from Ricky’s nose. Her fingers are painted in the official colors of the local elementary school they both go to.
Ricky clears her throat anxiously, and reaches up to limply grasp the hand. “I’m Erika,” she offers, voice cracking, “but my Dad calls me Ricky.”
“Ricky,” Sidney echoes, then sets her brow decisively. “That’s a good name. You’re my new best friend now.”
[[Next->Uncomfortably Raunchy Movie]]
[[Previous->Parents Arguing over Couch]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
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[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
Ricky’s earliest memory is of her parents arguing over the couch. They do that a lot -- her mom calling her dad a cheapskate who cares more about his money than his wife, her dad responding in kind.
Ricky spends a lot of time on the couch. Sometimes it feels like they aren’t arguing about the sofa at all, and really they’re just using it as an excuse to fight about //her.//
[[Next->Bossy Play Date]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
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[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
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(set: $finishedTeirE to true)
Ricky paces nervously behind the couch, running a hand along the fabric to ground herself. Sidney is crouched in front of the DVD player, pulling at her too-short shorts. Ricky looks back down at the couch.
“Got it!” Sidney crows, pumping her fist victoriously. Ricky jumps about a foot in the air, then takes deep breaths to calm herself down.
Sidney scrambles back to the couch, and perches on the edge of the cushions, body taught with excitement. “Come on,” she invites, patting the cushions next to her. Ricky walks around the side of the couch and sits down. Sidney grips her hand tightly, humming with nerves.
“Are you sure about this?” Ricky pleads, palms sweating.
“Of course,” Sidney retorts. “Are you?”
“I’m--” Ricky swallows hard. “My parents say I’m not supposed to watch anything PG-13 without their permission.”
Sidney snorts. “Everyone knows the rating system is just jacked up to keep kids sheltered from ‘inappropriate themes.’ It’s all run by those Christian nutjobs. You know, the ones who hate gay people and think all Jews are going to hell.”
Ricky laughs uncomfortably, free hand fiddling with the Magan David on her necklace. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she concedes.
“Of course I am,” Sidney preens. “I’m //always// right. Now are we watching this movie or not?”
Ricky stalls for time. “How do you know it’s even any good?”
Sidney rolls her eyes. “It’s my brother’s favorite so it can’t be //too// terrible, okay? Now //please// silence yourself so that the rest of us can enjoy the movie.”
Ricky frowns, but closes her mouth on another retort and slouches back into the couch, pulling her hand out of Sidney’s grasp. Sidney flicks the remote with a flourish, and the opening theme blares to life.
An hour later, the two women on the screen are tugging at each other’s clothes, lips locked together. Ricky shifts nervously on the couch, something turning over in her stomach. She jams her hands between her knees and squeezes them tight.
Sidney’s face seems taught and cold in the flickering light of the television. Sidney sits rigidly at the edge of the couch, muscles pulled taught as if to hold herself away from what’s happening on the screen.
They finish the rest of the movie in silence.
[[Next->Did She Want to Kiss Me?]]
[[Previous->Bossy Play Date]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
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[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
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She doesn’t know //why// Mom chose to keep the couch, if she hates it so much. Mom is always talking about how ugly it is, how much she wishes they could afford a new leather sofa. Dad just says that Mom is in charge of home decorating and can do whatever she wants with their budget.
Ricky hopes she doesn’t ever //actually// get rid of the couch, no matter how much she much she hates the color. Ricky loves this couch; loves to hop up on it and watch cartoons and eat terrible no-good teeth-rotting cereal in unhealthily large portions.
She especially likes it when she’s sick, because then she gets to stay home from school and lie on the sofa and watch cartoons and eat cereal while Mom tsks disapprovingly //all day//.
[[Next->Story for the Grandkids]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
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[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
(set: $finishedTeirD to true)
Erika stumbles over a lose pebble as she staggers down the apartment driveway, almost losing her grip on the couch.
//“Fuck!”// her roommate curses, zir expensive heels (//why,// Erika wonders, did ze wear high-heeled combat boots to //move furniture//), slipping against the gravel. “Watch it!”
Erika chuckles apologetically, but it’s weak and she’s mostly out of breath from carrying the couch down three flights of stairs already.
“All we have to do is get it into the storage pod mostly in tact,” Erika reminds them.
“It’s not really your ugly ass blue //couch// I’m worried about,” ze retorts. “It’s not like this thing can possibly get any shittier. I care more about my //feet//, which you are //not// going to smash into a million tiny little pieces right before break. I got shit to do and I am not going to spend all summer cooped up in my room like you will.”
“Hey!” Erika cries. “I’ve got an internship this summer, like a //business professional//. I’ll be starting junior year with //credentials//.”
“Credentials in couch surfing, maybe,” her roommate grumbles, but hikes zir grip up on the sofa anyway. "You're a fucking art major."
“//Film// major,” Erika corrects zem. “Whatever. Like all great artists, I am underappreciated in my time.”
“If it helps you sleep at night,” her roommate quips.
Erika cranes her neck to look behind her as she walks backwards into the storage pod. Solidly inside, she nods at her roommate to drop the couch, and they let it fall to the floor with a bang like a gunshot against the cheap wood.
They both stare at the ground for a while, and Erika’s roommate shrugs. Ze shoves zir hands in the deep pockets of zir army surplus jacket and jerks zir chin at Erika.
“Gotta go,” ze declares. “My ride’s here. See you next year.”
“Yeah,” Erika agrees, “See ya’.”
Erika slumps down onto the couch and watches zem walk out of sight. She sighs and fishes her phone out of her jeans. No new messages -- Mom must still be on the freeway. Erika wishes she’d let her keep the car up here, but Mom is stalwart once she’s made up her mind.
Erika thumbs through her contacts list. Social media and serendipity have informed her that Sidney will be in town this summer. Her finger hovers over her name on the tiny screen.
She’s been drafting this message in her head for a long time. It’s surprisingly anti-climactic to finally type the words.
She stares at her phone until the screen turns blurry and indistinct. The sun is setting, and the inside of the storage pod is cast in shadow, turning the fabric of the couch a dark midnight blue.
She hits send.
[[Previous->Let Down Gently]]
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(if: $finishedMainRoute)[
[[Fin->20% Completion]]
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(if: $youTried)[
[[You've Almost Got It...->You've Almost Got It]]
]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA or $finishedTeirB or $finishedTeirC or $finishedTeirD or $finishedTeirE or $finishedTeirF or $finishedTeirG)[
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]
The movie credits fade out and the room goes utterly silent. Ricky’s ears buzz with the high-pitched lack of noise. Sidney’s ragged breathing grates on her ears. Ricky looks over at her, maybe to tell her to stop, calm down, do //something// other than sit there, but...
Sidney is a gargoyle perched on the edge of the couch. Hard, unapproachable, made completely of stone -- claws curled in on herself but ready to lash out without the slightest warning. Ricky reaches a hand out anxiously, but Sidney flinches away, her body flashing into sudden motion before retracting into tense stasis again. Ricky curls in on herself, subdued.
She wants to cry, //‘You don’t need me.’//
She wants to shout, //‘You’re leaving me.’//
She wants to scream, //‘Why can’t you just say it?’//
Just to see what happens.
But instead all she mutters is, “Terrible movie, right?” As if trying to convince herself that film is not based in reality. That there isn’t some truth to a script where a girl who’s too good for her small town leaves a deadweight boy who’s just holding her back. As if, on some level, she didn’t applaud the girl for having the courage to just //go.//
Sydney drifts back to the present, but doesn’t relax. She is speaking, but there are a thousand unsaid arguments looming behind her simple, “Yes.”
“It’s super unrealistic, right?” Ricky demands, searching Sidney’s face for signs of disagreement. Sidney flicks her eyes away.
“I guess,” Sidney concedes. She picks at her nail polish, painted in the school’s colors in honor of their last few spirit days. Sidney always cared more about school than Ricky did.
Ricky curls her nails into her palms until she can feel them biting through her skin. She focuses on the way her muscles tremble, keeping her fists tight.
Finally, Sidney asks, “Do you think college is really that different from high school?”
//‘Not so different enough that you have to leave everyone behind,’// Ricky yells, but doesn’t.
“It’s a kid’s movie, Sidney,” Ricky snaps. “Half of these writers have probably never even //been// to college.”
Sidney laughs in spite of herself, but it’s an ugly nervous sound. “Hey now,” she teases, “Disney jobs are //highly// competitive. Only the best of the Ivy League grads have a hope of snatching one.”
Ricky shrugs, mouth quirking up forlornly. “Guess you’re set then. Send me a postcard from the writer’s room some time.”
Sidney sits up straighter, turning around to stare beseechingly at Ricky. “You know we’ll keep in touch, right?” Sidney blurts out.
Ricky is silent for a long time, before reaching out to take her hand.
“Yeah,” she agrees, “I know.”
[[Next->Break-Up]]
[[Previous->Mom Made Her Do It]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
(set: $youTried to true)
Ricky imagines this is what characters in zombie movies feel like after they’ve been bit. Snot is pussing from her nose and leaking into the back of her mouth, her throat burns like it’s been rubbed raw with sandpaper, and honestly she thinks death might be preferable to this.
And Sidney //still// hasn't texted her back.
She checks her phone just to be sure, but, nope, Sidney is still being a terrible girlfriend. Who cares about sixth period anyway -- it’s just home room! Only //Sidney// would prioritize her grades over her //loving long-term relationship.//
Ricky blows her nose angrily into a tissue and feels her sinuses rattle around in her skull. Everything is //terrible.// All she wants to do is take forty-seven NyQuil and sleep until her immune system has finally burnt this wretched plague from her body.
Instead she is lying here on the couch, waiting until her liver processes her last dose of cold medicine, and watching terrible daytime soap operas.
//Just// leave //him already, Cheryl, he’s no good for you!//
The doorbell rings, shattering her perfect peaceful fever-dream. Ricky jerks upright and her head swims in protest. She eyes the hallway suspiciously.
The doorbell rings again. And again. Ricky is sure that her eardrums have burst from the incessant ringing.
She stumbles down the hall and pries the front door open just enough to blurrily eye the asshole standing on her front porch.
“What the fuck?” Ricky croaks.
“Let me in,” Sidney demands, shoveling past her with arms full of precariously stacked tupperware. “This shit is heavy.”
Ricky watches her stride down the hallway, bemused. “Why are you here?” she snarks after Sidney’s retreating back. “I thought you had //school//.”
“I do,” Sidney snaps, dropping the tupperware onto the coffee table and sitting down on the couch. “My mom made me come. Said feeding my petri dish of a girlfriend was more important than my grades.”
“You don’t get a //grade// for homeroom,” Ricky grumbled, popping open one of the containers to reveal steaming hot soup. She breathed in deeply, then choked on her own snot.
“Yeah, well, I don’t get //the flu// in homeroom either,” Sidney retorted, holding out a plastic spoon.
“You don’t know that,” Ricky growled, shoving the provided utensil into her mouth vindictively. “I caught this from //one// of those filthy heathens.”
“Christ,” Sidney swore, slumping back into the couch. “I will be so happy to be done with this place in two years.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ricky muttered, “don’t get your hopes up. You’ll be stuck with me and my diseases no matter what.”
Sidney's face twisted up in disgust. “Gross,” she complained.
[[Next->Proto-Break-Up]]
[[Previous->Just Experimenting]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
Ricky lies perfectly still on the sofa, every muscle in her body rigid and tense. She curls her fists tighter in the blankets around her hips and stares resolutely up at the ceiling, pressing down with her arms to keep herself glued to the cushions. It’s cold in the living room, and goose-bumps break out along her exposed skin.
Sidney’s face is cast in shadows, the fading light of the candles on the kitchen counter making their corner of the living room seem impossibly darker. Ricky can just make out her parted lips, maybe a flash of teeth, as the slow hiss of air in and out Sidney’s nose echoes harshly around the room.
Ricky feels too loud. She holds her breath and her heart beats like a thunder storm. She can hear the blood rushing through her veins. Even the sound of silence is an oppressive buzz in her inner ear.
“Sidney?” Ricky pleads, “Are you awake?”
Sidney doesn’t move.
Oh no. She didn’t hear her. Maybe she’s asleep already. But -- what if Sidney’s dead? What if she died an hour ago and Ricky didn’t notice and won’t realize until she gets up in the morning and trips over Sidney’s corpse, mummified in the spare sleeping bag?
“//Sidney?//” Ricky insists, louder.
“What?” Sidney croaks, injecting the word with as much rage as someone only half-awake can muster. Which turns out to be a lot. “I was //sleeping.//”
“Sorry,” Ricky mumbles, squeezing her eyes shut. //Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid--//
“No, no, you don’t get to do that,” Sidney snaps, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. “//You// woke //me// up, so I think I deserve an //explanation//.”
Ricky feels all the blood rush to her head. “I was just--” //worrying, obsessively, like always//, “wondering.”
“About //what//?”
Ricky doesn’t know what she’s going to say until she hears herself blurt it out. “I was wondering if you’d ever kissed anyone.”
Sidney goes silent, and then explodes, “//Excuse me?//”
“It’s a thing people talk about at sleep overs!” Ricky retorts, defensively.
“Do they //wake each other up// to talk about it?” Sidney growls.
“Everyone knows the ‘sleep’ in sleep over is just for show,” Ricky grumbles. “Besides, we don’t even have school tomorrow. Bed times are, like, //guidelines// during the weekend.”
“//Fine//,” Sidney snorts, throwing up her hands. “Will you let me sleep if I answer your questions?”
“I didn’t //mean// to wake you up,” Ricky deflects, but then nods.
“Okay,” Sidney agrees, flopping back down on the floor. “Fire away. Do your worst. Line me up against the wall and let the squad take pot shots at my head. I don’t care.”
Ricky feels unprepared for this conversation. She plays for time. “Uh,” she starts, then falls back on her initial question. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”
Ricky can hear Sidney rolling her eyes in the dark. “//Yes//,” Sidney mutters. “John Macintosh. We were in the second grade. //Not that it’s any of your business.//”
Ricky feels herself flush with irritation, but Ricky stirred this mess up herself, so //she’s// going to have to resolve it. Or escalate it.
“Have you ever kissed a //girl//?” Ricky demands.
Sidney goes utterly silent. Ricky can’t even hear her breathing.
Finally, after the longest time imaginable, Sidney mumbles, “No.”
The thought flashes across Ricky’s brain the moment before she says it, and she doesn’t have time to stop herself before it’s out her mouth.
“Do you //want// to?”
Sidney splutters. Ricky thinks she might be choking, and cranes her neck nervously over the side of the couch to check that she’s okay.
“Want to //what//?” Sidney stammers. “Kiss a //girl//? Of course not! Who would I even //do// that //with//?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ricky mocks, suddenly offended for unfathomable reasons. “Maybe //me//?”
“//You?//” Sidney squawks.
“What?” Ricky challenges. “Am I so bad?”
“No -- it’s just -- why would I -- why would we -- you -- us -- I mean -- we’re friends-!”
“Would you rather kiss someone //else//?” Ricky responds, incredulous.
Sidney seems incapable of forming real words, and just keeps opening and closing her mouth like an actress caught without her lines.
“Fine then,” Ricky mutters, rolling over and tucking her hands into her suddenly roiling stomach. “I see how it is.”
Sidney launches to her feet. “Hey, no!” she begs, shaking Ricky’s shoulder. “Ricky! It’s not -- it’s not, it’s not like //that//. I just don’t--”
Ricky flips over to look at her. For a second, the whole world is just Sidney’s eyes. Then Sidney squeezes them shut in a fully-bodied frown, and Ricky’s doorway to the universe closes.
“Fuck it,” Sidney declares, and kisses her.
It’s not soft or gentle. Their teeth crash together, and Sidney’s nose ends up in Ricky’s eye. Their cheeks scrape against each other like sandpaper, and Ricky’s pretty sure her chin will be bruised in the morning.
Yet, somehow, it’s perfect.
[[Next->Mom Made Her Do It]]
[[Previous->Practically Porn]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
The DVD menu screen promises something upbeat, but Ricky isn’t so sure. She looked this movie up online, and the internet said it was //adult.// She’s pretty sure that means it’s //porn.//
“I don’t know, Sidney,” Ricky mutters, tucking her knees into her chest as Sidney plops down next to her on the couch, “I’m not even supposed to watch //PG-13// movies without my parents’ permission.”
Sidney eyes her strangely. “This //is// PG-13,” she reminds her.
“Well, yeah, but,” Ricky waves her hands around, “you know. It’s got //kissing// in it.”
Sidney rolls her eyes. “So? //Disney// does too,” Sidney retorts. “Just think of this as, like, Disney for teenagers. It’s a musical and everything.”
“I’m //not// a teenager,” Ricky grumbles, but gives in. Sidney puts the movie on.
An hour later, two women are trying to rip each other’s clothes off while they do their best to melt their faces together. Ricky’s pretty sure the taller one has her hand down the other’s pants. Ricky covers her eyes and prays that her parents don’t come home early.
[[Next->Just Experimenting]]
[[Previous->Controlling Bully]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
“We’re going to be best friends //forever//,” Sidney promises.
[[Next->Practically Porn]]
[[Previous->Always Fighting]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
Ricky is hiding under the table to escape her parents fighting. Covering her ears because the yelling is too loud. They are always fighting, Mom stomping around the living room while Dad sits still as a statue on the couch and Ricky stays frozen under the table.
//“It’s this //stupid// couch or //me//!”//
//“Sarah,// listen//--”//
//“No,// you //listen! I am sick to death of seeing this fucking couch every morning! I come home from work, and it’s just this couch. You, sitting here, on this fucking ugly blue couch that you bought. With //my// money, because //you// don’t do anything but sit on the //damn couch// all day!”//
//“Sarah, I am //looking// for a job, there’s just nothing //out// there, I can’t--!”//
//“Then raise our damn //child// for fuck’s sake! She’s //your// kid too! Contribute something here, Joel, or I swear I will leave you //and// Eri--”//
//“I’ll get a job! //Fuck.// I’ll find //something,// okay? Just don’t -- do not -- you can’t leave her. You //can’t.// Promise me.”//
The couch stays, but every time Ricky sees it, she worries Mom //won’t.//
[[Next->Controlling Bully]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
(set: $finishedTeirF to true)
Erika thinks it hurts so much because Sidney’s //right.// If she were wrong, Erika could just ignore her, write it off as an excuse. But instead Sidney’s words wiggle into the corners of her brain where she buried her own doubts, amplifying, reinforcing.
//“Long distance doesn’t //work//,”// Sidney pleads, and Erika is silent. She wishes she could speak, but it feels like Sidney’s already a thousand miles away. Erika is //here//, shouting across a chasm, watching as Sidney rides off into the sunset, leaving her behind.
//“I’ll be halfway across the country,”// Sidney explains, and Erika thinks Sidney’s already moved into her new life. Sidney has new friends, a new future, and Erika’s not a part of it.
Maybe Sidney met someone online. Maybe she doesn’t want to be tethered to her high school girlfriend when there will be so many people to meet at college. Maybe she’s not even explicitly //thinking// about those things, just holding them in the back of her mind while she exaggerates other aspects of their relationship.
Erika can’t blame her. If she weren’t so afraid of leaving everything behind, of losing Sidney, of losing her anchors, (//of the future//) she thinks maybe she would’ve done the same thing.
So Erika argues, but it’s the half-hearted shouting of someone who knows they are clinging to a sinking ship and needs to be pushed off into the water so that they can swim to safety.
And when Sidney walks out the door, Erika doesn’t look back.
[[Next->College]]
[[Previous->High School Kids]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
(set: $youTried to true)
Erika is seventeen and has no idea what to do with her life. She’s going to legally be an adult in a few months, and she doesn’t know what that means. Does she have to leave everything she knows behind? Isn’t that what going to college is //about//?
The anxiety sinks into Erika’s bones and saps the strength from her muscles. So instead of thinking about the future, she sits on the familiar, comfortable couch and watches shitty movies with Sidney.
Today’s tween-dramedy is only ostensibly about high school, it turns out. It is mostly about leaving for university. When it finally ends, Erika is a humming cloud of worries she can barely put into words, and Sidney…
Sidney is silent.
And Erika thinks that says it all, really.
[[Next->Let Down Gently]]
[[Previous->Kid Stuff]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
Erika and Sidney meet because of their mothers. Erika is huddled into herself, but Sidney is an explosion. Sidney takes her hand, holding it tight, and Erika watches her make a decision.
“We’re going to be best friends,” Sidney concludes.
[[Next->Hormones]]
[[Previous->Mom Kept It]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
Their first kiss is soft, lit by the flickering light of fading candles, punctuated by the sounds of rustling blankets in a shadowy room. It is a moment that lasts forever, but it’s too short. Erika feels like she’s been dreaming about it always, but nothing she thought up could ever compare.
It’s chaste, and heavy, and it makes her cheeks burn. She feels hot all over, Sidney’s skin rubbing against her own and setting it on fire.
It’s sacred and absolutely meaningless all at once. One of many, but, somehow, maybe, the most important.
It's a turning point.
[[Next->Kid Stuff]]
[[Previous->Hormones]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
Erika never knows where to put her hands. When Sidney is in the room, all Erika wants is to be in constant contact with her. It feels like completing a circuit, and when Erika’s not holding Sidney’s hand, all the electricity just builds up inside her until she wants to burst.
Today, Sidney’s at school and Erika is confined to the couch. Erika, it seems, is forever chained to the sofa. Erika blows her nose pitifully and tosses another tissue into the growing pile on the cushions. At least this afternoon she has an excuse.
She wonders if she can drink enough cough syrup that her nose will go numb so she doesn’t have to feel it anymore. The school principal is always going on about how the stuff can get you high.
The doorbell rings, cutting through the sound of Erika’s wheezy breaths. After the third ring, Erika woozily makes her way to the front room.
“Who is it?” she grumbles, cracking the door open a bit.
“Take a guess,” Sidney teases, arms full of sloshing tupperware bins. “I come bearing gifts.”
“Did you bring cough syrup?” Erika asks, sniffling.
“Better,” Sidney responds, dropping a kiss on her sweaty forehead, “my mom’s soup!”
Erika brightens up immediately. Sidney’s mom’s soup is //legendary.//
They walk down the hall together, and Sidney settles down on the couch. Erika, inhibitions lowered along with her immune system, plops down on her lap. Sidney laughs and shoves her off onto the pillows.
“Don’t get me sick!” Sidney commands.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Erika retorts, popping open one of the tupperwares.
“Or the last,” Sidney mutters, staring distastefully at the mountain of tissues next to her. She scoots a little closer to Erika and lifts an arm. “Come here, Typhoid Mary.”
Erika settles into her side, and feels the world click into place again.
[[Next->High School Kids]]
[[Previous->Nostalgia]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
Erika is lying on the couch, watching Sidney fiddle with the DVD player. It is summer, and it’s too hot. Erika wonders if the school year even happened, or if everything is just one giant endless humid summer, with short breaks for sleep in between.
“You sure you know how to work that thing?” Erika drawls, propping her chin up on her forearms.
Sidney grumbles something unintelligible, then pumps her fist in the air. “Got it!”
“Finally,” Erika scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Feels like you’ve been messing with that thing //forever//.”
“//Ungrateful//,” Sidney accuses, flopping down on top of her. Erika protests, but Sidney stays put. “Are you ready for the experience of a lifetime?”
“Is it PG-13?” Erika wheezes, pushing Sidney off of her. “I’m not supposed to watch PG-13 movies without my parents’ permission.”
Sidney winks. “I guess I’m a terrible influence,” she declares, snuggling up close.
“Ugh,” Erika groans, but gives in anyway. Sidney flicks the movie on.
An hour later, Erika is wondering if Sidney wasn’t actually //right// when she called herself a terrible influence. Because right now two women are practically having an //orgy// on-screen and there’s an uncomfortable ache in Ericka’s stomach and her palms feel sweaty. The blood drains out of her cheeks. She looks over at Sidney and thinks, //maybe…//
And then she panics.
[[Next->Nostalgia]]
[[Previous->Childhood BFFs]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
“This is the ugliest couch I have ever seen,” Erika’s mother declares, tugging her up onto her lap. “I’m making you take it with you when you move out.”
Erika is too young to understand what she means, but loves to please, so nods happily. Her mother smiles, boops her on the nose, and turns the television back on.
“I’m holding you to that,” Mom declares.
[[Next->Childhood BFFs]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
(set: $finishedTeirG to true)
(set: $finishedMainRoute to false)
(set: $finishedTeirA to false)
(set: $finishedTeirB to false)
(set: $finishedTeirC to false)
(set: $finishedTeirD to false)
(set: $finishedTeirE to false)
(set: $finishedTeirF to false)
(set: $finishedTeirG to false)
(set: $youTried to false)
Congratulations, by following the main path you have uncovered approximately 1/5th of the story! If you would like to explore the rest, go back to the beginning and consider retracing your steps more often.
[[Go Back to the Beginning->Ugly Blue Couch]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
//Phew!// Wow! You are the reader of the century! You have unlocked and (hopefully) read through //all thirty-six passages of this story!//
I'm impressed. I'm not sure I could've done it, and I wrote the thing. Go give yourself a pat on the back, and maybe a beer if you're old enough to drink one.
If you'd like to read more and see how Sidney and Ricky's story ends, you can go to your hard won epilogue.
[[Epilogue->Epilogue]]
[[Or If You Like Pain and You Want to Reread->Ugly Blue Couch]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
Now you're getting the hang of it! If you're still striving for full completion (and the Epilogue), you can either...
[[Go Back to the Beginning->Ugly Blue Couch]]
...or go back to the moment before you hit your first 'previous' and locked yourself out of anything behind it.
[[When Ricky Met Sidney->Play Date]] (if: $finishedTeirA)[
//You've Read All of This!//
]
[[Renting R.E.N.T.->PG-13 Movie]](if: $finishedTeirB)[
//You've Read All of This!//
]
[[Our First Kiss Story->First Kiss]](if: $finishedTeirC)[
//You've Read All of This!//
]
[[Lovesick->Sick Fic]] (if: $finishedTeirD)[
//You've Read All of This!///
]
[[Back Before It All Went Wrong->Tense]](if: $finishedTeirE)[
//You've Read All of This!//
]
[[Breaking Up Is Hard to Do->Break-Up]] (if: $finishedTeirF)[
//You've Read All of This!//
]
[[University Blues->College]] (if: $finishedTeirG)[
//You've Read All of This!//
]
(if: $finishedMainRoute and $finishedTeirA and $finishedTeirB and $finishedTeirC and $finishedTeirD and $finishedTeirE and $finishedTeirF and $finishedTeirG)[
Whoops, looks like you clicked the wrong button! You were probably looking for //this//:
[[Epilogue->100% Completion]]
]
You're getting there. Consider delving a bit //deeper// into the past.
[[Fin->20% Completion]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
"We've //got// to get rid of this couch," Sidney declares.
"What?" Ericka exclaims, jerking around to face her fianceé. "Some of my best memories were made on this couch!"
"Well it's a piece of shit--" Sidney begins.
"//You're// a piece of shit!" Ericka grumbles.
"--And we're getting rid of it," Sidney commands. "I refuse to host //guests// in a house with this thing, let alone raise children. God only knows what STDs it's carrying."
"It's a //couch//, it can't carry STDs--" Ericka starts, before cutting herself off. "Wait, //children//?"
Sidney turns a deep marroon and pulls at her collar. "Well, I mean, //not now//. And only, like, if //you// want them..."
Ericka pulls her into a deep kiss. "We'll get rid of the couch," she agrees, "just give me a day to mourn, okay?"
Sidney smirks against her chin. "Yeah, okay," she teases, trailing a hand down Ericka's shoulder. "I'll leave you two alone."
She sashays out of the room, and Ericka flops down on the couch, grinning as wide as her cheeks will allow. She runs her palms against the familiar rough blue fabric and settles into the well-loved cushions.
And closing her eyes, she lets herself,
drift back.
[[Back->Never Thought We'd Reconnect]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
Ericka remembers sitting in a coffee shop. Her thighs had long since melted to the cheap plastic chair beneath her, glued in place with sweat. She tapped her fingers, then shoved them between her knees, a nervous habit.
When she looked up, Sidney was there.
She was as pretty as ever, a glowing dark star against a sea of pale indifference. Erika’s eyes were drawn to that slight gap in her smile that even braces hadn’t fixed. She’d grown, matured, filled out somehow. She was different, but.
She was holding out her hand, and her nails were still painted every color of the rainbow.
“Hi, Ricky,” Sidney murmured, grinning nervously.
Erika stared at her hand for a long time, then finally gripped it firmly, looking up to meet Sidney’s startled gaze.
“Call me Erika,” she offered.
[[Back->On Again Off]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
They weren’t always perfect. They still fight sometimes, over distance, over money, over the damn couch. But somehow, Erika thinks, they always fall back into each other’s orbits.
Erika //still// remembers their first break up -- it wasn’t the only time one of them cut it off, but it was probably the worst. She thinks she can’t deal with that empty space again. The way she felt directionless and incomplete the first time Sidney left.
So she changed, she matured, and she fixed it. She filled the hole that she was using Sidney to prop up, and she worked to rebuild a relationship that wasn’t founded on childish co-dependence.
She thinks they’re better people than they were before, or, at the very least, more complete. She is comfortable being alone now, living in her own skin. Sidney is no longer a missing puzzle piece in her life; she’s a polish on a sturdily table. Erika is solid without her, but best with her.
Whenever she thinks in maybes -- //maybe she would be better off without me, maybe we’re not good together, maybe there’s someone better// -- she remembers that Sidney has a choice. Sidney is an adult, a complete person. She doesn't //need// to stay with Erika, she //wants// to.
Maybe that’s what it means, to be together. To choose to say with someone who improves you, even when the smell of varnish is stifling.
So now, when she thinks about the future, she sees Sidney. But she also sees herself.
[[Back->You Were My First]]
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They’ve had a lot of firsts together. Sidney was Erika’s first real friend -- although Sidney has since informed her that wasn’t true in the reverse. Sidney was Erika’s first kiss -- although, now that she thinks of it, Erika wasn’t Sidney’s first.
Okay, maybe it’s less that they’ve had a lot of firsts //together// as much as Sidney was all of //Erika’s// firsts.
It’s hard to let go of those feelings sometimes, to not superimpose nostalgic longing over their present. First love, first heartbreak. But those memories are part of their present. They’re constantly evolving stories, retroactively recognized foreshadowing, edited again and again to suit new circumstances.
Their story is alive, even the parts of it that are already written. People change, and their memories are recast with them.
Erika can’t remember who she was before, but she likes who she is now. She loves Sidney now, and maybe it’s different or maybe it’s the same. Maybe there's no such thing as true love, because it's so hard to tell what's true at all.
But Erika doesn't have to believe in the past to enjoy the present.
[[Back->The Couch]]
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Erika is sitting on a couch. She’s always been sitting on a couch, in one way or another. Maybe it’s a metaphorical couch?
She considers that for a while. When she was little, she used to think the couch was the sky, and maybe, now that she’s older, she knows it is. Or maybe that’s total bullshit -- little Erika //also// believed she’d been born on this sofa. Clearly there were some unresolved issues there.
She runs her hands along the tears and patches where the fabric fuzz has worn off completely, revealing a rough black underbelly. She traces the stains with her eyes -- and, gosh, there are a lot. The couch is probably more stain than color, by now.
A disturbingly large portion of her life has taken place on this couch. She’s sat here with friends, lovers, family. She’s gotten blackout drunk and thrown up on it after her roommate dragged her home. She’s //pretty// sure she had sex on it at least once.
Sidney might actually be right about the STDs thing. Erika should probably not let any babies touch this couch, ever. The Internet has informed her that babies are fragile and have terrible immune systems. Maybe the couch would function like a vaccine?
Erika presses down into the comfortable cushions, molded to her exact shape by years of use. They’ll get a new couch.
But Erika is going to make sure that it’s blue.
''Fin.''
[[Table of Contents]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
[[Iteration 1: Meeting->Play Date]]
[[Iteration 2: Queer Awakening->PG-13 Movie]]
[[Iteration 3: First Kiss->First Kiss]]
[[Iteration 4: Sick Day->Sick Fic]]
[[Iteration 5: Unresolved Tension->Tense]]
[[Iteration 6: Break Up->Break-Up]]
[[Iteration 7: Unversity->College]]
[[Epilogue->Epilogue]]
[[Credits]]
[Bookmark My Progress]<savea| (click: ?savea)[(save-game: "FileA", "Passage1")]
This story was coded using the open-source free-ware Twine (available for download at //twinery.org//).
Story and structure designed and written by Grace Klein.
Contact me at [email protected]!