CHAPTER 06: BREAKFASTLESS BEAHAVIOR
It is oscillating between certainty and crippling self-doubt that we find Spencer, knee-deep into writing his mother a thoughtful letter for her birthday. Considering their relationship -or lack thereof- Spencer didn’t know where he stood. He didn’t know if he should wish her a happy birthday at all, but ever the golden boy, the fear of being ill-received didn’t stop Spencer from trying his best.
His mother had a rule: no birthday presents. She had been terrorized by her ex-husband’s absolute inability to be subtle in his message/ gift, and thus, no gifts should ever be received without her having an anxiety attack over the fear of performing delight when uncovering an unwanted present. This made Spencer feel like he was choking on a wishbone at Thanksgiving, having to ask his yelling and scared parents to drive him to the hospital while his sister choked on her own laughter.
Spencer remembers the last time his dad gave her a present. He was seven, doing what seven-year-olds do (eating dirt), whilst his mother was hard at work on her startup project, for months and months, working on a business plan and product manufacture, when his father interrupted her work with a gift: pans.
His mom did the sensible thing and threw the pans outside, along with her husband, ready to taste the fifty flavors of freedom, or whatever fifty shades of grey was about; he didn’t know, he hadn’t read the book.
And then entered a clown:
Connor (shirtless with a red ribbon, waltzing in, leaning against his doorway like a purring cat): What are you doing?
What an unconsciously loaded question. Connor knew nothing about what had occurred last month. He knew about the internship, but he didn’t know he ended up in the psych ward for a weekend until the authorities deemed sure he wasn’t going to hurt himself again. Laws were really lax against this type of thing.
He didn’t know that Spencer was no longer on speaking terms with his mother. Spencer felt too ashamed about his behavior to tarnish his image in his best friend’s head. What had happened would stay between his mother, therapist, and the thirty employees from the open space who saw him cut himself with a letter opener.
Spencer (sighs): I’m writing a letter.
Connor didn’t question why someone would write a letter instead of sending a text or making a call. It was Connor; he never questioned anything and accepted the world as it was, headbutting into every closed door he encountered. This was not to say that Connor was dumb; he was very crafty. Once upon a time (last year), a junior (Spencer) made a hole in the wall by trying to nail a canvas to a wall, and Connor fixed it with Q-tips, glue, paper, and paint. However, while crafty, Connor didn’t overthink, an ability that Spencer envied deliriously. His lack of thought was inspiring.
Connor was hot, suave, confident, the perfect guy for any girl, really, and Spencer bit his nails and cuticles till the blood came out; therefore, they came in pairs since they met freshman year while pledging.
Connor (dropping on the bed next to Spencer): Cool, so you’re not busy.
Spencer (hiding the letter on his nightstand): I wouldn’t say that.
Connor (sighs): I have a date tonight. (Beat). Well, I’m not sure it’s a date, that’s why I’m coming to you. I want to look good, but not too good, like unassumed good. Like, oh, I didn’t know this was a date, good.
Spencer (smelling rotten eggs): Who is it?
Connor (hugging his naked torso): It’s Lady D.
One beat.
And another.
Spencer pinched Connor on his boob. His pecs were so big they were no longer pecs, but full-on B cups.
Connor: Ouch! What was that for?
Spencer (twisting his nipple): Not Diana.
Connor (scandalized): Stop twisting my nipple!
Spencer: Then don’t go on a date with Diana!
Connor (pointing a perfectly manicured finger): I’m kidding you cunt! I knew you had a crush on her! J’accuse!
Spencer (grabbing Connor’s hand): Since when do you wear baby blue nail polish?
Connor: You like it? A certain blonde did it for me.
Spencer (rolling his eyes): I don’t have a crush on her, I barely know her.
Connor: Then why do you get so jumpy when you get a notification with a little smile when you’re texting her?
Spencer: Shut up!
Connor: Come on, what were you guys doing in your bedroom last week for three hours?
Spencer thought back to the threat of a fart, the foul burp, and the pillow fight that naturally followed.
Spencer: I don’t kiss and tell.
Connor: Spence, you wear boat shoes, you’re not the mysterious and suave guy.
Spencer: Says the shirtless guy with a red ribbon as a necklace and manicured nails.
Connor: I don’t care, I’m a vampire, plus my boobs bounce when I walk. So I’m guessing you won’t care that I know where she’s going to be this afternoon. You’re going to stay in bed waiting for her memes and never make a move, right?
Spencer: Dude, I’m not going to stalk her, that’s breakfastless behavior.
Connor: She’s gonna be at the coffee shop in the observatory at 2. She says it’s the perfect place for a date because of the paintings on the ceiling, it’s so romantic.
Spencer: I’m not gonna go.
Thus, the liar got his sluttiest lime polo from his closet with a pair of high-rise linen shorts that displayed his muscled thighs and promenaded his way to the kitchen, where he wished to be hit with a shovel.
There he sat, in the massive kitchen, trying to enjoy the look of his breakfast burrito (he kept looking at it with distress and distrust in his eye) while the giant burger, standing against the counter, poured all the sugar the house had, in his coffee, much like his sister Lexi, while trying to spark a conversation with our protagonist, who quite frankly, couldn’t be fucked.
He thought of the most Dad thing he could say at that moment, in his deck shoes: Would you like some coffee with all that sugar?
Giant Burger: How’s your morning been?
Spencer: Like all mornings.
Giant Burger: Same, I love it here. I know I’ve only just started university a month ago, but honestly, it’s so much fun. You get to pick your classes, meet new people all the time, and be independent for the first time.
Spencer (reminiscing about his first year): Yeah, college can be fun.
Giant Burger: You know, I admire you, man. It’s not easy being you. I mean, everyone knows who you are whenever you enter a room, so you’d think you’d be more of an asshole, but it’s like, you bring warmth and love in every room you walk in. Everybody immediately smiles when they see you because you make them feel good about themselves.
Spencer was a self-defined mirrorball. He was a monkey, dancing to the will of those in front of him. He’d do just about anything to make people feel good about themselves, yes, even butt plugs were included. What the burger was aiming to be a compliment was another reminder of how unhappy and unconfident he was. People only liked him for how he made them feel about themselves; it had nothing to do with him, just a solid mirror from a high-end store that didn’t show pimples and cellulitis under harsh lighting.
Spencer (bittersweet, much like the burger’s coffee): Thanks.
Burger (still pouring sugar): I mean it. You bring love everywhere. Love’s in you. Everybody here talks about how you helped them in times of crisis, but who’s there for you when you need it?
Spencer (disintegrating like sugar): Are you ever going to be done with that sugar?
Burger: Do you think our freedom lies in the acknowledgment of our mortality?
Spencer was staring at his burrito. He, who had never felt free a second in his life, and always rushed to please his mom with good grades, to please the girls he dated by listening to their music, to please those he invited to his parties with small talk and showering them with compliments. No, Spencer hadn’t tasted freedom, and yet, when he thought of freedom, late-night conversations with his friends and a certain blonde came to mind. Those with whom he spoke his mind freely and laughed to an uncontrollable volume without expectations from either of them. Freedom also tasted like goat cheese ice cream, but that was a different subject.
He didn’t answer the burger, for if freedom lay in the acceptance of mortality, did it make Diana his end?
Burger: Do you ever think about your death? Because I’ve been thinking about how embracing our mortality is an incentive to live life to its fullest with no regrets. Carpe Diem.
Spencer: I don’t like carpes.
Burger: Shoot, I have to go. (Points at the burrito), Are you going to eat that?
That’s mine.
Spencer: No, go for it.
Now, without his breakfast burrito, Spencer went on a clown parade back to his bedroom, not without being stopped by his brothers, asking him how his morning had been so far, if he wanted to get a drink at the Delirium later, go for a run, or get lunch with them after class.
Spencer was not going to class. He couldn’t stand to be in a room full of soon-to-be graduates with a life ahead of them when he had lost everything, and he didn’t even know who he was anymore, what he wanted, where he was headed. He was but an asparagus lost in a field of corn.
Dear Mom,
Thank you for all of your help. I hope work has been good. I read in the paper that you had a net growth of 27% in the second trimester, congrats. Your hard work is paying off. Happy Birthday. I know you’ll spend it at work like every year and not do anything special, but I wanted to remind you that you’re an amazing mom. You’re strong and independent, and have raised me to be the same.
Looking forward to seeing you,
-Spence.
Oh gods, what a day. Nothing happened, and yet he was tired. Thus, Spencer took his sad brown eyes, slut waist, and breakfastless behavior to the coffee shop in the observatory next to the geology department, the oldest part of campus, crumbling under the weight of time.
He noticed Diana, her long blond hair covering her face as she hunched over a romance novel with a naked fae on the cover, not caring that others could judge her reading taste. He liked that she sat proudly against intellectualization, reading fairy smut when most on campus were reading French existentialism, thinking they were any smarter than the rest of them by adopting the most popular Goodreads reviews as facts.
He was ordering himself a cup of matcha when a guy with shaggy brown hair, an earring, and an oversized graphic tea sat next to Diana after hugging her.
He ordered and turned around to look at the scene in front of him. He liked observing people, being removed from situations, from existence, and merely analyzing those who surround him. But mostly, he loved watching first dates, since there was nothing less natural than two people meeting for the first time after swiping on a dating app.
It was so clear, the half-hearted, uncomfortable hug as a greeting, the eyes looking at each other but not quite, the half-hearted smile of a date who does not look like his pictures.
Spencer got his drink and sat two tables down, catching Diana’s watchful eyes and winking at her on the way, a smirk on his face as he was about to be front row to the best play on campus.
He got his phone out and started typing, even though she had left him on delivered for two days now.
Is he about to tell you that Fincher is an underrated director? Say that Hayley Williams was his sexual awakening or both?
Thank you so much for reading!! You’ve noticed that this chapter has been released a bit earlier than planned, but I’m going to Rome for a few days and will be without a laptop.
Thank you so much for the positive feedback on the last chapter, you have no idea what it means to me.
From Marseille with Love,
*vapes away*