♦
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦
Noticeable
♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
♦
I guess you could say there are many types of love. There's true love, which probably doesn't exist normally in the real world. Then there's fairytale love, where Prince charming goes after the princess and they live happily ever after without divorce. Then there's abusive love, which I guess is what Kenny's parents give him (though I probably shouldn't be saying that aloud). There's also best friend love, which Kyle and I give each other very often. Then there's complicated love, but that's… well, complicated.
Then, there's love with Wendy, which is an odd mix of all kinds of love. And I'm almost positive that combination is responsible for my quickness in offering to fix her toilet when it breaks.
"Just give me the day," I tell her, bending over to see the cause. It doesn't look too bad; the toilet won't flush, but other than that it seems remotely fine…. "If I'm not done by the end of today you should probably call a repairman."
"Thank you!" she exclaims, and she comfortingly rubs my back in appreciation. "I'll be back in a bit… and try not to miss me too much while I'm gone?"
"I won't," I reply with a smile, and I give her a quick kiss. "Call me if you need me."
"I will," she says, and with a quick wave she's out the door. I stare blankly at the doorframe for several moments, as if expecting her to come back, but when my mind resolves that she won't come back, I turn back to the toilet. I'm really not sure what I can do with it, really, seeing as I'm not exactly the best mechanic around. In fact I'm hardly even a mechanic, but saying no to Wendy… probably wouldn't have produced the best results, either.
"A bit sappy, don't you think?"
I turn to Kyle. "The toilet?"
"No, you." I shake my head; I had forgotten he was there. After all, we had both been in my room when Wendy called. If I hadn't drove him to my house he probably wouldn't be here with me; he insisted I go straight to Wendy's instead of dropping him home.
"Toilets can't be sappy, Stan," Kyle tells me, as if he's reminding me of something we learned at school.
"Probably not," I reply, smiling weakly at him. But my mind's on two other things: the toilet, and the guilt of having to bring Kyle along. "You know," I begin, taking a seat against the wall. "I'm sorry for bringing you here. You must be bored out of your mind."
"I opted to come," he tells me, giving appraising looks at the toilet. "Besides, what's so boring about a… a toilet."
I laugh at the question… or what's supposed to be one, anyway. "Good call." I sigh, tapping the toilet once. There's a silence between us; there really isn't much interesting about a toilet. It definitely wasn't this awkward when I was creaming him at Super Smash Bros. a few hours ago.
"So uh…. I'm not sure what to do about this toilet." I pout at him, and though he looks away he scoffs at my foolishness.
"Fix it?" he suggests, and I roll my eyes. "What else did you have in mind?"
"I… I dunno." Leave it to Kyle to give the bluntest answer. "I guess we could fix it, though I really don't know how." Kyle frowns and makes his way to the toilet, giving it a good inspection as I look to the ceiling. Once again, popcorn ceiling. Is there really any other kind?
"Have you checked your email lately?"
My gaze is removed from the ceiling. Weren't we just talking about the toilet? "No… I never check it."
"Oh." I frown as he looks away, frowning even more so as he takes much interest in his reflection in the mirror. "Well, if you put it that way…."
It's very much random on his part, as I continue to stare at him I find myself frowning. I guess for his sake I'll go check my email, yet… it's still quite random…. Though, of course, I don't mind the change in topic; talking about toilets ends up being quite lame, anyway.
"I'll check it when I get home," I tell him softly, giving a shrug as he turns back to me. "I mean, only if you really want me to."
"No, don't worry about it," he mutters; "it wasn't important anyway. I was just curious."
"If you say so…." I give a sigh, turning back to the toilet.
Silence.
I sigh, uttering the only thing I can think of. "Now how about fixing this toilet, huh?" Kyle nods nonchalantly, and we set upon figuring out a way to fix Wendy's toilet. In the end it was pretty much Kyle who did everything—he's the one who figured out how to fix it. The only thing I did was to go get stuff from the nearest hardware store… which was quite far, since there's only one in South Park.
Wendy hasn't arrived when we finish, so we wait in her living room. Thanks to the courtesy of her dad, we're sitting in front of the television with ESPN booming into our ears, and a few glasses of water are sitting on the table in front of us. There are recaps of most sports on the screen, though it isn't long before I've lost interest in it.
What does interest me, though, is Kyle. For some reason he's grown rather quiet; I don't really remember when it happened, either. I hadn't even noticed he started talking less often, not until I ran out of things to do… but when had he grown quiet?
"You okay?" I ask him, nudging his side. But the only expression I get out of him is a curious look. "Sorry, just… just curious… you were really quiet."
"And that has to mean something's wrong with me?"
"Well no, just… I dunno." I heave a sigh and grumble under my breath; it had been a random revelation… maybe I was just imagining things. But Super Best Friends have very good instincts, and my instincts are screaming there's-something-wrong-with-Kyle-so-do-something!
"You sure?"
"Yeah," he replies, and I give him one last hopeful glance before turning back to the TV. No baseball game's results are going to tear me away from the boy sitting next to me. For all I know I could just be saying there's something troubling him, just to justify his silence, and though that seems like something I'd do… I'm almost positive I'm right.
Another ten minutes goes by without him talking. I turn to him and frown; I wonder if he's truly okay. Better yet, I wonder what he's thinking of. His eyebrows are furrowed, as if he's concentrating hard on something. That, or he's awfully angry with someone in the distance, but I doubt that's it. But it's the summertime, and there's really nothing worth concentrating hard on, so….
Maybe he's just worried about the toilet? After all, we haven't exactly tried it.
I give him a friendly wave before leaving to Wendy's restroom. It's not like I have to do any functions in here, really, so instead of taking off my pants like I normally would I merely reach over and press the flushing-thing once.
I stare intently at it. The water drains away, everything seems to be going fine… and then everything is fine….
The toilet works.
"It works," I tell Kyle as I return to the living room. "The toilet," I add when I receive a confused look; "it works."
"Okay," he replies weakly, turning back to the television, unfazed.
So it wasn't the toilet, then….
I turn back to the television, which is now on Comedy Central. Maybe this was it? Maybe he didn't like watching ESPN?—but that reasoning is just as poor as my other one about the toilet, but nevertheless I ask him anyway.
"There's nothing wrong with me, dude," he insists, and we leave it at that. Sure, I'm not convinced, but there's nothing I can do now, really.
Wendy comes back twenty minutes later, completely breaking the silence between us. She attends to me first, and we embrace in a rather lengthy hug, and afterward she greets Kyle, who seems to have the most peculiar expression on his face. She gives him a quick hug before addressing us.
"Did you fix my toilet?" she asks, and Kyle gives a stiff nod. However, she's looking at me when she asks, so I merely mirror his notion. "Thank you, Stan! You have no idea how much—"
"I didn't do much," I murmur, right as she's about to leap into my embrace yet again. "Kyle's the one who figured it out." Wendy looks over at Kyle, who's turned a deep red at the attention. I give a low chuckle as Wendy turns to thank Kyle, and he merely turns even redder as she faces the both of us.
"Thanks again," she tells me. "So…. I guess I'll be seeing you later then, Stan?"
I give her a frowning look. "Am I leaving?"
"Well, if you want… I kinda figured you were, though. I mean, I'm sure you weren't just staring at your phone, waiting for me to call, right?"
"Well no… I guess." Was this Wendy trying to get rid of me? Or maybe I'm looking too much into this…. "I'll call you later then?" She gives a stiff nod, and to break the awkwardness I step forward and give her a hug.
"I'm glad you're spending more time with him," she says quietly into my ear, and she gives me a smile before turning to Kyle. But I'm not really listening to what she's said; my mind's still on her words. And there lies my confusion; it wasn't too long ago when she seemed so distressed at the fact that I was spending more time with Kyle, and now… and now she's encouraging me to spend more time with Kyle.
It makes no sense to me. But I don't bother thinking about the reasoning behind that for too long.
"Stan!" Wendy yells at me, and I spin on the spot. "Stan, you okay? You blanked out on me, there."
"…sorry, Babe. Just thinking about stuff."
She nods believingly. "Anyway, I won't keep you any longer. Have fun, the both of you."
"Right… I'll call you." But she already knows that, and as I motion to Kyle we both leave her house. She smiles at us before closing the door in front of our faces. I turn to Kyle, who's staring at his feet, and with high spirits I pat him on the back playfully.
"Feeling up for a guys' night out?" I ask him, and though I'm talking to him he still doesn't look at me. Nothing's wrong with him… yeah right. "You, me, Kenny?—and maybe Cartman."
"No Cartman," he mutters, and he walks off. "I dunno, Stan, I'm a little tired."
"Dude! It's only…." I turn to my watch. "…it's not even six, yet!"
"I'm tired, Stan."
I shake my head. "Come on, dude, we're all going out. Besides, you could use the cheering up."
Oops. Bad move.
"Stan, there is nothing wrong with me! I don't need to be fucking cheered up!"
I hold my hands out in defense. "Whoa, dude, sorry… I didn't mean to… just chill." I grumble under my breath; from the corner of my eye I could've sworn seeing Wendy peering through the blinds of the window…. "Let's get to the car at least, okay? From there we can figure things out."
He nods quietly and follows behind me. I know there's something wrong with him, despite how much he denies it. In a way it hurts, knowing that he doesn't trust his Super Best Friend enough to share his thoughts, but… I can't go around expecting him to. But if there's one thing I know… it's that no "okay" person sulks around everywhere while practically going mute.
I pull out of the driveway and head to Kenny's. And my course of travel definitely does not go unnoticed.
"Stan, I don't wanna go."
"Come on, Kyle, just come with us. It'll be great! Besides, you haven't seen Kenny in a while."
"Yes I have, Stan. Just because you haven't been to his house with me in a while doesn't mean I haven't seen him at all." I think Kyle's glaring at me at this point, though I'm not sure if I want to check. His voice sounds angry, at least… maybe just irritated.
"Kyle…."
"Just take me home, Stan."
And reluctantly, I turn the car around. I don't look at Kyle as I'm doing so; I'm scared to see his face, scared to find out if I've angered him. The ride to his house is especially silent, and though I feel tempted to take one look, just one glance of reassurance to make sure he's all right….
We get to his house.
"Stan…?" he mumbles, but I don't turn to him. "Stan, are you mad at me?"
"No… not really…." I pause for a moment. "…are you mad at me?"
"No…." Silence. At least we've gotten this far… but when exactly did our friendship take such a sudden turn?
…I'm confused.
"I'm sorry," I decide to mutter at last. "Sorry for being such a persistent bastard."
"Don't worry about it," he says. "I'm sorry for being killjoy."
"You're not being killjoy, dude, I understand. I have to feed Sparky, anyway…. And I'm sorry for accusing you of…." I can't find the proper wording. "Sorry for thinking there was something wrong with you."
"Yeah… sorry." Why exactly we've suddenly gone apologizing for pretty much everything, I'm not sure…. And all because of a toilet, too. Or at least I think.
"I'll see you around, then," I tell him, extending my hand. He looks at it curiously, as if unsure with what to do about it. "Erm, you shake it…. Uh, only if you want to. One handshake for friendship?"
"Oh. Right." He blushes furiously as he takes my hand and shakes it firmly. "Anyway… later, Stan."
I blink. "Wait… Kyle?"
"Yeah?"
I look away as the words come out of my mouth. "You'd tell me if something was bothering you, wouldn't you?"
He merely stares at me—a stupid question on my part. I dunno; the fact that he has to think about it hurts me somewhat, yet I don't take it to heart. Besides, even if he's hesitant of the question, I'm sure I know what the end answer will be, anyway….
"Of course, dude."
And then he's off.
I watch him as he enters his house, and for moments after he's gone I stare at the doorframe. My mind's convinced; there's something bothering him. Yet thinking about it, as I've found out, won't do anything, so instead I let it go and drive away.
…of course, I've already said I'd let it go, and yet it still bugs me….
I pull out my phone and browse my address book. I scroll down the names to find Wendy's number; now that I'm not doing anything, I might as well spend the rest of the night with her….
I put the phone to my ear and wait for her to pick up.
"You haven't seen Kenny in a while."
"Hey Stan!"
"Yes I have, Stan. Just because you haven't been to his house with me in a while doesn't mean I haven't seen him at all."
"Stan?"
Maybe… just maybe….
"Stan, are you there?"
I hang up. There's someone else I want to see.
Posted October 3rd, 2007.
Two assumptions are made in this chapter. First, toilets are easily fixed. Second, Wendy's parents are not divorced or dead.
