No Exit To (I)

 

Preface

The title of this story is in reference to a play written by Jean-Paul Sartre called No Exit. The play is about "three characters who who find themselves waiting in a mysterious room. It's a depiction of the afterlife in which three deceased characters are punished by being locked into a room together for eternity." It sounds comical to say but then again, I've never read the play or watched any of the movie adaptions. I read the play's synopsis via Wikipedia; I also had no idea who Sartre was prior to reading about him. 

There's a famous line in Sartre's play, "Hell is other people." I believe I heard this line on Criminal Minds. You know how at the beginning of each episode, it starts off with one of the characters reciting a quote? I was intrigued by the phrase because I thought it was pretty clever. 

For those who've never read the play either, you're probably wondering what Sartre meant by this quote. I found the answer here: https://www.rewriting-the-rules.com/conflict-break-up/hell-is-other-people/

"The notion that as soon as we are in the (real or even imagined) presence of another person, we begin to see ourselves through their eyes and this is the end of our freedom."

There are many interpretations to this quote so, you can accept whichever answer you choose.

While my story of No Exit To takes some inspiration from Sartre's play, I didn't necessarily write it as a modern rendition of his original work. I found the synopsis of the play and its famous quote interesting and used them both as a loose inspiration for my own work.

No Exit To follows seven, young adults who find themselves caught up in their landlord's nefarious scheme involving an occult ritual. 

Prologue

A boom of thunder startled me out of deep sleep. Sudden panic had my heart racing, while my sluggish mind tried to catch up with my alert body. The blur in my eyes cleared seconds later. I was home, I realized. Back in my bedroom, inside my parents’ home. For a brief moment, I felt sense of relief aided by the familiarity of my surroundings. That relief had me believing—had me hoping that everything that transpired had been one long, terrifying nightmare I finally awakened from. I looked down at my right palm and was horrified to discover a faintly healed cut, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking close enough. My experience wasn’t a nightmare. It had been real. Those horrors I survived had been real. I cried so hard. Not because I was traumatized, but because I would have to face the outcome of my decision. 

I. Sinners in the Hands of a Deranged Man 

Tuesday, May 21^st, 2019

My relationship with my father diminished around the time I turned fifteen. Those preceding eight years were filled with turbulent arguments and near violent physical confrontations. I held a lot of contempt and resentment in my heart towards my father. He ruined our family. He broke my mother’s heart by betraying their marriage. Mom, to my displeasure, forgave my father over time and sadly reconciled their marriage. But I refused to do the same. I wasn’t my mother. He wasn’t owed an iota of forgiveness over what he did. There was no coming back from his crime. That outside child he brought into our home was a constant reminder of the pain he inflicted upon us, upon my mother. There would be no redemption arc for him. 

“And where do you expect Hannah to stay while her mother’s abroad, hmm?” I had pissed my father off so badly that time he called me a dumbass without restraint. “Last I checked, Nathan, this was my damn house. A house I spent years working hard to provide for my family! A house where you don’t even pay bills in.” Stroking his white and black beard, he stepped back for a second. “I don’t even know why I’m engaging with you about this!” My helpless mother was in agony on the sidelines watching as her husband and son tore viciously into one another for what seemed like the two-thousandth time. Every time we were at each other’s throats, it chipped away more at her heart and spirit. She couldn’t stand witnessing the further dissolution of a father’s relationship with his son and a son’s relationship with his father. Eventually, the fatigue from our constant heated exchanges wore her down and she gave up on brokering peace. 

“She has grandparents. Nicole’s parents. Let Hannah stay over there with them!” It was awful enough having her in my life already. But I drew the line at her moving in, even if it was only temporary. Hannah’s mother, Nicole, had been accepted into a master’s abroad program in Germany and it was expected to take a year or so for her to complete the degree. Hannah was supposed to go with her mother. However, Nicole felt guilty about taking her daughter away from her friends and father. So, Nicole opted on holding off on her master’s degree until Hannah finished high school. At the time, Hannah was only in elementary school.

I looked over at mom, hoping she would have my back on it. Sadly, she kept her eyes averted. It was later revealed the plan of having Hannah move in with us (while Nicole was abroad) was her idea, not my father’s idea as I had previously assumed. It all made sense why she couldn’t look me in the face during that argument. My mother was just too kind-hearted of a woman. She felt bad for Nicole, a single mother trying to better herself for her child in the aftermath of the harm she caused another woman. Sympathizing with her situation, mom didn’t want Nicole to give up that opportunity. 

“Nicole’s parents are currently in no state to look after Hannah. Doug has been in and out of the hospital over the last three months because of renal failure. Margaret has her hands full with taking care of him.” Nicole’s mother had recently returned to working part-time due to Doug’s increasing medical expenses. A hyperactive eight-year-old would have only burdened them with more stress. “Hannah’s staying here, with us, Nathan. She’s not going anywhere else. These little tantrums of yours, they stop now. You’re a twenty-three-year-old man, damn it!” He told me to accept reality for what it was. “Hannah’s your-” I immediately cut him off before he said it. I despised hearing that word spoken. That word always made me spiral. 

“-no, she’s your bastard!” My harsh remark left my infuriated parents speechless. 

Mom spoke up finally. She snapped at me in a manner I had never experienced in my twenty-three years of life. “Nathaniel, shut your mouth! Now! You’ve gone too far this time!” Her wheelchair trembled and squeaked under the weight of her angry body. “Your feelings are valid, my son, but your hostility towards Hannah isn’t. It’s unacceptable! It’s-it’s repulsive! And I’m not going to sit here and let you speak so ill of a child.” My words backfired on me. Mom wanted me gone. She kicked me out of the house. The announcement blindsided me because I never expected those words to come from her mouth. I always expected it to be my father. My unruly attitude had pushed her to the limit. She rolled over to me and clutched my hands. “Nathaniel, I love you more than anything.” She told me, crying. Kicking me out sent her into emotional distress. “But I can’t… I can’t deal with this anymore. You’re not the sweet boy I raised you to be. You’ve become such an angry, hateful man. We’ve-I’ve put up with this too long. And I’m tired of it. Hannah’s staying here. You can leave.” Mom snatched all discussion of her verdict off the table. She wouldn’t back down either. I had sixty days to find my own place before I was out on the street.  

I remembered being in shock about the entire thing. Surely, it was a bluff. That mom was giving me a reality check hoping it would set me straight. There was no chance in Hell, she would put me out. Me, her only (biological) child. But the burning fires of anger in her eyes said otherwise. I had pissed her off so badly with my words there was no coming back. Hell, I was pissed too. I was hurt too. I felt like my mother was choosing her husband’s outside child over me, her actual child. The way she shook from rage over me calling Hannah a bastard, I did too. 

Fine! If I had to go, I would go then. I cut my eyes and told mom, “Whatever,” and went upstairs to pack a duffle bag. As I did, I booked a motel room nearby before I left the house. We all needed the night apart. Not even five minutes later, I heard the sound of mom’s stair lift chair closing in. She knocked softly, alerting me of her presence, before she wheeled into my bedroom. “Nathaniel…” Her voice still tinged with disappointed hurt.

I avoided her face while continuing to pack my bag. “The guilt eating you alive? Changed your mind?” Nope. Mom’s decision remained unchanged. I still had to leave. “Then we have nothing to talk about.” I coldly replied. My icy response didn’t run her off like I thought it would. 

Mom, stressed, rubbed her face. “Jesus, Nathaniel! Enough!” She said on a frustrated breath. “Stop punishing Hannah for what Owen did. That’s his sin to carry, not hers.” I paused and faced my mom, gawking at her like she had grown another head. 

“What makes you think I’m doing that? Because I’m not.” Mom failed to understand that just because she accepted Hannah’s existence didn’t mean I had to. And I wouldn’t. A deep scowl formed on her face. 

We stared quietly at one another for a moment. “But you are punishing Hannah, my son.” She reiterated. “If not over your father’s infidelity, then it’s because of what happened to me that day.” 

I immediately turned the topic around. “Why did you forgive him anyways, mom? Money? Embarrassment? Religion?” She didn’t need the money, and she wasn’t religious. So, I couldn’t understand why she willingly stayed with a man who 1) cheated on her, and 2) fathered an outside child. My question was just a distraction though. I couldn’t care less about her reason behind staying with him; I just didn’t want her bringing up that day and incident. 

She folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve been with your father since undergrad. Cheating is a deal breaker for some while illegitimate children are for others.” Her reason for their reconciliation was that they had been together for twenty-one years. “I was in love with your father, and I’m still in love-”

“-and let me guess… He’s still in love with you too, huh?” I asked being snarky, though it wasn’t intentional. I really loved my mom, more than I had ever loved my father. I mean, I was a bonafide Mama’s Boy without shame. It never mattered when I was upset or aggravated with her. I always spoke to her with gentleness and kindness I refused to give my father. The situation that day was different, however. 

“Yes… I know he’s still in love with me. We went to counseling—we’re still in counseling. We’re making it work. Every time I thought about leaving, I remembered the Owen I fell in love with two decades ago. Sometimes, you make the craziest and dumbest decisions when you’re in love with someone.” She told me I wouldn’t understand until I fell deep in love. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at the idea. I prayed love never made me a stupid person. 

 

The cheapest room I found went for a rate of $99/night. It wasn’t the nicest place, but it wasn’t the worst either. “I’ll take a look at these places first thing tomorrow.” I sat the list off to the side and opened my notebook to study. I had a biology exam at the end of the week that I wasn’t prepared for in the slightest. “Seriously? Right now?” The guests on my left decided to have loud, obnoxious sex. And I. Heard. Everything. It got worse when the children in the room on my right started screaming and running around. I took my studying across the street to the café, which thankfully, was open late.

“Hey there! Good evening and welcome to the Red Canary!” Lea, the cashier, greeted me with violent enthusiasm when I walked in. She had a cute smile, freckles, and a nose ring. She always kept her hair pulled back into a low bun. I really liked Lea a lot; she reminded me so much of my Aunt April as far as bubbly demeanor. 

My returned greeting was toned down and awkward. “Good evening and... thank you.”  My social anxiety was awful, especially when it came to interactions with women. I didn’t have any friends, mostly acquaintances. Elijah, my maternal cousin, was the only true friend I ever had. His mom and mine gave birth within three months of each other. And we were more like siblings than we were cousins. Three years prior to the night I was kicked out, Elijah and his father were killed by a drunk driver. Aunt April was never the same after their deaths, and neither was I. 

“I can tell by the way you’re looking around this is your first time here at the Red Canary.” She leaned across the counter with a bright smile on her face. Lea was very observant, it appeared. That was my first time there. I had passed the Red Canary several times and had always wanted to try their drinks and food, but life interrupted me at every chance. 

“Do you have any recommendations?” I stood there awkwardly at the counter like it was my first time on Earth. Lea had a habit of looking people directly in their eyes when she spoke to them. I found it a little unnerving in the beginning but tolerated it as we got to know each other better. Lea fired off a list of her top seven recommendations. I decided on the chipotle chicken and avocado croissant and a blueberry pomegranate lemonade. 

“That order will be up in twenty-minutes, okay?” She flashed that freckled smile of hers. With my order placed, I went looking for the most quiet, secluded spot in the café I could study without being bothered. I spotted an empty table in the far back beside a large window with a remarkable view of the city park across the street. I stumbled over my feet rushing to claim it. I sprawled my belongings across the table before returning to the counter to wait on my food. 

As I waited, I scanned the countless flyers on the bulletin board beside the counter. Most of them were missing pet flyers. Some of them listed items for sell, such as a 2008 Honda Accord with 230k miles, or advertised services like babysitting. The rest were “Help Wanted” gigs. “Hmm… What’s this?” Curious, I lifted one of the pet flyers and discovered a room being listed for rent. For $905/month, all utilities and a private bathroom were included. The common areas were shared with the other occupants. While I didn’t like the idea of boarding house/dorm style living, my options were severely limited. I was a full-time university student working part-time as an unarmed security guard at night. The price, at the time, for the room was very much affordable at my income level. It was also beneficial. I could stay a full-time student instead of reducing my hours. I went ahead and scanned the QR code for the website. The property and room looked decent in the pictures. Nothing about the listing screamed “sketchy.” So, I went ahead and booked an appointment to tour for the following day, eager to grab the room before someone else did. 

“Thank you so much for your patience!” Lea came bustling out of the kitchen. My twenty-minute wait ended up being thirty-five. She kindly threw in a free cinnamon crunch bagel for the inconvenience. “Enjoy! Let me know if you need anything else.” She winked before sprinting back into the kitchen. The wink came off flirtatious, but I assumed I was thinking too much into it at the time. Lea was probably just being nice, nothing more. 

I returned to “my table” and found someone sitting there when it was obviously claimed. Imagine how annoyed I was. “Hey, excuse me…” The woman looked up from her laptop. She was stunning. I was awed by her beauty. 

Catherine, that was her name. I felt instantly smitten. Her beauty was incredible. No woman had captured my attention like she did. The highlighter she used gave her smooth, chocolate skin an ethereal luster. Her braided hair was in a half up-half down style with streaks of interwoven teal. Her cute dimples only enhanced her smile more. Those natural grays eyes of hers reminded me of a relaxing but cloudy ocean morning before the arrival of a late afternoon storm. 

“Issss everything all right?” Catherine looked at me baffled. There went her first impression of me down the toilet. I had checked out of reality, entranced by her beauty, and had been staring at the woman like a mindless dolt. She tried to hide it, but I had weirded her out. Couldn’t blame her. 

“I’m-I’m really sorry… I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to stare at you and be weird or anything. You’re just really pretty- Ah!” I covered my mouth and closed my eyes. You weren’t supposed to say that out loud to her. Embarrassment had me panicking to grab my things. “I’m sorry about that just now I-I’ll go sit some-somewhere else. You have a good night.” Catherine pulled my backpack strap. 

“You don’t have to go.” She laughed. “I mean, it’s more than enough space for the two of us to work here.” Catherine was a graphic designer and was in the middle of a project. “I didn’t mean to steal your table. I just got a call from my client a few minutes ago. The project wasn’t supposed to be due for another three weeks but now she’s telling me she needs it finished in a week and a half.” Catherine did what any person would have. She plopped down at the first table she assumed was available. “Do you-do you mind if I’m in your space for a little while? This spot is the only place left with free power sockets.” She asked, slightly tilting her head. 

Thrilled, I yelled out, “Sure you can!” At least six people turned around and looked at me. Catherine giggled. 

She extended her hand. “Catherine. Just Catherine. Please…don’t call me Cat or Cathy, especially Cathy. The name Cathy makes me feel like a middle-aged White woman from the suburbs on her second marriage.” We laughed at the description. 

I took her hand. “My name is Nathan. Just Nathan. I don’t like when people call me Nathaniel. It always sounds…too formal for my liking.” Mom was the only person allowed to call me Nathaniel, but for Catherine, another exception was made. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nathan.” We shook hands. 

“Likewise, Catherine.” Soon as we connected, we both neglected our tasks, too enthralled in our conversation with each other. “Catherine, do you like bagels, by chance?” Grateful as I was for the free bagel, I didn’t eat them. “They kind of hurt my jaw whenever I eat them.” I told her while also touching my jaw too.

She straightened like she had been electrocuted. “I’m starting to think this was fate bringing us together.” Catherine joked. “Because I love bagels, and this one’s my favorite flavor. I always get this one when I come here.” She accepted the bagel and did a cute little dance in her seat as she devoured it. “Thank you, Nathan. You don’t know how much this small gesture made my night just now.” My heart fluttered seeing that bright smile of hers. Catherine and her radiant vibes had improved my mood a lot. They made me forget all about the mess that happened back at my parents’ house. Around Catherine, I was never down. She always uplifted my spirit without trying. 

“Argh! Dammit! I’m sorry, Catherine.” We both hurried to clean up her iced coffee I knocked over when reaching for my textbook. “I’ll get you another one.” 

“Nah! Don’t worry about it.” She declined politely, waving her hand. However, I insisted. 

“What’s a girl without her coffee, right?” The joke sounded so much better inside my head where it should have obviously stayed. God, that was fucking corny. Even I’m cringing. I would not have blamed her if she never spoke to me again after that night. 

Catherine’s eyes fell to her laptop screen. “You know, Nathan… you made a great point. I’m going to need all the caffeine I can physiologically tolerate, without going into cardiac arrest, to get this project done.” She reversed her decision and accepted the coffee. I almost knocked over my chair hurrying to my feet. Catherine could have told me to throw myself in front of oncoming traffic and I would have done it without argument. “See you in a little bit.” She wiggled her fingers.

When I returned to the table a third and final time, I was distraught by the scene I stumbled into. Catherine was talking to another man. He was of Hispanic heritage, average height and build with glasses and a black beanie. Whatever they were talking about had Catherine grinning from ear to ear. I nearly crushed her drink from the violent jealousy that overcame me. Why are you surprised, Nathan? Catherine’s a beautiful woman. Of course, other men are going to shoot their shot at her. Of course, they’re going to want her too. I knew that, but it still bothered me. I wanted Catherine to myself, her attention, her conversations, and all those pleasant smiles of hers. I found myself locked in a tumultuous battle with my own conscience over the situation.

You just met her an hour ago. Catherine can talk to whomever she wants. She’s not a possession. 

Yeah, I know, but I thought- I hoped I could have her company all to myself.

Don’t get hung up over her. You’ll find someone else. There’s always someone else.

That’s the problem. I don’t want anyone else. I only want Catherine. The mental back and forth made me sound like an obsessed stalker. I quickly re-evaluated myself. The creepy attachment I exhibited towards Catherine would have eventually surfaced. Maybe it was for the best another man took her away from me.

I approached them both with a forced smile. “Here you go.” Catherine squealed when I handed her the drink. 

“Nathan, you’re awesome! Thanks again!” She took a long sip of her new drink. “This one is better than the one I had earlier.” Catherine thanked me for knocking over her previous drink. She then took another long sip. “Oh!” She wiped her mouth. “By the way, this is-”

“Fabian.” He finished Catherine’s sentence. The man offered me his hand, which I reluctantly shook out of politeness. 

“Nathan.” I gave him a dry reply. He looked at me perplexed.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m over here.” He chuckled nervously. “I saw your girlfriend’s jacket when I came in and just had to ask her where she got it from. From there, we sort of got lost in conversation.” He tapped the table with his hands.

Catherine and I blurted out, “We’re not together.” 

Mortified by his incorrect assumption, Fabian quickly apologized. “Oh! I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have assumed!” He shrank down in his seat a little.  

Neither of us were offended by the assumption, nor did we make a huge deal out of it. In fact, Catherine laughed about it. “It’s all right.” On the other hand, I was flattered in secret. I took the mistake as a compliment. Sounded like she and I looked good together.   

Our flaky encounter aside, Fabian remained at the table with us until the end of the night. I came to like him and enjoyed being in his presence. Fabian was easygoing. Contrary to how he presented himself or how he was perceived by others, Fabian was highly intelligent. “I realized how much pressure and expectations are placed on the smart, hardworking employees compared to the dumb, lazy ones. I learned my lesson. And I don’t mean to be nosy, but what level of biology is that?” He pointed at the study guide in my hand. Fabian revealed he had recently graduated with an undergraduate degree in EXNS three months prior to our first meeting. He planned to start physical therapy school during the upcoming Fall term. “I took a lot of science courses.” If I had questions or needed help, Fabian was more than happy to help me out. 

That guy was a godsend. I immediately accepted his offer. “Well, I’m glad you said that.” I had been struggling in my biology course for most of the semester. “We’re on genetics this week, specifically gene expression.” I handed him my printed-out lectures. “I know it’s only general biology, but math and science aren’t for me.” My father excelled in those areas. He loved math and sciences, particularly the more challenging levels. For very obvious reasons, I never asked him for help.  

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your major?” Fabian asked, flipping back and forth through the papers. I hesitated with the answer, self-conscious over what the pair would think. My major was English with a minor in Creative Writing, two disciplines most people would regard as useless. That was my father’s sentiments too when I told him what I was majoring in.

My high school sophomore AP English teacher, Mr. Foust, encouraged me to pursue my interests, while my father condemned my choice. He incessantly hounded me about pursuing a “practical” degree. A degree that would guarantee me a job with a nice salary once I graduated. He told me at every interval how little money there was in those two fields. That my major and minor would have been a waste of my time and his money. I confided in Mr. Foust about having seconds thoughts. He told me to ignore my father’s criticism. How I had amazing potential as a writer (which he told me at every turn as well, countering my father’s negative remarks) and said that if I listened to my father, I would spend the rest of my life regretting that choice.  

“Not only did Mr. Foust support me, but he also made me feel seen when I felt invisible. That’s what I miss the most about him.” Because of the trust I built with him over the year, I felt comfortable confiding in Mr. Foust about my home life, the aftermath of my father’s infidelity, and the heavy emotions I had to deal with as a teenager. He told me it was okay to be angry with my father over what he did to our family but not to let that anger control me or shape my future. He always had me looking at perspectives from different angles. He said to use the incident as a lesson instead of carrying it as a punishment. He said it was okay not forgiving those who harmed me or did me wrong but not to allow myself to become that type of person because I was hurt. “Unfortunately, Mr. Foust suffered a bad stroke at the end of the year which forced him to leave teaching.” My old teacher passed away the following year after suffering another stroke. 

I took his death very hard. Just when I thought the light in my life had returned, it was snuffed out again. My junior year of high school was incredibly difficult because of the crippling depression I battled over his death. Coming to terms with the universe robbing me of an amazing and incredible person was difficult. I considered giving up on English and Creative Writing until I remembered the best way I could honor Mr. Foust was to pursue my passion like he told me to. 

Catherine rubbed my thigh with a soothing touch. “It’s nice to hear you haven’t lost your passion.” She smiled. “It’s difficult not wanting to disappoint our parents, but we can’t allow them and their opinions to control and decide our lives either. Your dad will probably come around one day.” The mention of my father caused my smile to slowly vanish. Even if he came around and apologized, I doubt I could find it in my heart to forgive him for his vitriol. “I’m sure you can imagine how many people I had jumping down my throat when I told them I was going to school for graphic design. They told me the same thing. How the salary wasn’t good if you don’t work for a big company or if your work isn’t the best.” Catherine stuck her tongue out over the criticism. “Anyways, I moved here from Minnesota over a month ago.” She landed a job offer with a large graphic design company. “My current salary is higher than what I was making back home.” Catherine beamed with pride for not allowing the criticism to deter her.

“Judging how you spoke about your teacher just now and how he made you feel, I’m sure he’s proud you stayed on the right path.” Fabian added to the conversation. He leaned on the table and placed his arms down. “I genuinely believe the decisions we make effect the overall course of our lives. I’d like to think that if you chose differently, none of us would be sitting here right now talking.” Catherine agreed by nodding. I thanked them both for their supportive words. The rest of the night until closing, the three of us spent time getting to know each other some more. We talked about everything from anime, to hobbies, to life goals and so on. 

“Hey, guys.” Lea strolled up to our table wearing gloves with a cleaning bucket in her hand. “We’ve appreciated your patronage tonight, but unfortunately we’re about to close in thirty minutes.” Us three were the last people left in the café. 

Catherine shut her laptop. “Thanks for letting us know.” We packed up quickly and headed out the door. Lea yelled for us to come again before locking the door behind us. “Oh my God. It’s really late.” Time had passed by so fast because it was almost eleven-thirty. “I need to get home and get sleep.” She had work again at seven-thirty. Same for Fabian. 

Before we each went our separate ways for the night, I decided to get something off my chest. I enjoyed my time with Catherine and Fabian, regardless of if it had only been a couple hours. They seemed like wonderful people. The type everyone wanted as friends, and I wanted to hang out with them again.  “I…I hope I don’t come off strange asking this.” The anxiety nearly made me pass out. I looked down at my feet to force the words out. “Would you two be interested in meeting up again some other time?” Even if they said no, I had to ask because the three of us had such amazing chemistry. It felt great being able to connect with other people on such a level.  “I-I… I don’t really have any friends.” I was mortified revealing that piece of information to them. I felt like a loser. I was twenty-three years old with no friends or social life. Like there was something wrong with me because I struggled with social interactions and froze up when trying to overcome them. “My cousin was the only real friend I had but…he’s dead now.” I felt a sharp pain in my chest when the words left my mouth. Bringing up Elijah still hurt after three years. 

Fabian’s response was cold. “Yeah, no. I’m good.”  

I looked up at him. “Ah…okay then…” My anxiety vanished, replaced with disappointment. My shoulders dropped. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. 

“I’m joking. I’m joking.” He said, shaking me by the shoulders. Catherine didn’t find the joke funny. She thought it was rude and distasteful. “Ouch! That hurts!” She pinched his neck. 

“It’s supposed to.” Catherine scolded Fabian for making a joke during someone’s moment of vulnerability. 

Fabian immediately ducked behind me to get away from Catherine and her pinches. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“I would love to hang out with you guys again.” Catherine said we had made her night. “And there’s nothing embarrassing about not having friends or a social life. I mean, look at me. I don’t have friends either, well, at least not here. I do back home.” Catherine handed me her phone. My palms automatically started sweating. Had I not kept a tight grip, I would have dropped her phone on the sidewalk. “Making friends in college was a lost easier than it is now in the real world. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about not being able to make any here.” 

Fabian gave another sincere apology. “That wasn’t right of me and I’m sorry Nathan. I also had a great time with you too.” Fabian held up a fist. It was all water under the bridge. “You guys like bowling?” Fabian asked, handing his phone off to Catherine. He wanted our availability for next weekend. “Bowlero has the best hot wings. And they fry them the right amount of crispy too.” He was practically salivating at the mouth thinking about those wings. 

Next weekend worked for us. Catherine was eager for a fun night out after the completion of her project. “I’m flexible so, just let me know what time works for you guys.” She even volunteered to drive and pick us up. “Anyways, I gotta’ get going. See ya’ next weekend.” Catherine blew us a kiss as she left. We made sure Catherine was safe in her car before we headed off. 

Fabian offered another fist bump. “Have a good night, Nathan.” He said, waving me off. 

“Yeah, you too, Fabian. See you next weekend.” I said with a wide grin of excitement. 

As I crossed the street back to my motel, my entire body felt several pounds lighter after the confirmation of next weekend’s plans. Like if a strong breeze had passed through, I would have been swept off my feet into the night sky flying. The sensation was absolutely euphoric and probably the closest I would ever feel to being high. The first taste of happiness I had in years.