Threesome

            I feel like an eating disorder.

            “How does an eating disorder feel?”

            Lonely and sad until it finds some poor body to inhabit.

            “You want to make someone mentally ill?”

            No. I want to be someone’s obsession.

            “Close enough.”

            “Are you talking to yourself again?”

            No. “No.”

            He stares at me.

            “You see, I don’t call the person I’m talking to ‘myself’.”

            “Oh?”

            “Yeah. I’ve named her Annie.”

            I hate the name Annie.

            I tell Annie to shut up. “It’s a lot easier to deal with the stupid thoughts I have if I don’t think about how they’re really coming from me.”

            He shrugs. “Yeah. But then you’ve got all those schizophrenic disassociation issues to worry about.”

            Yes. And me turning on you. Seriously, I hate the name Annie. 

            “Well whomever you’re talking to,” he says all theatrically, “I wish you’d stop. It’s annoying.”

            His name is Kevin and I love him. Annie does too. Kevin and I are sitting on the steps outside of our school, both waiting for our rides home. His hair is hanging in his face in its shaggy dyed black splendor. His eyes are brown and squinting from the sun, and he’s scowling. I feel like handing him a cigarette, to complete the image he’s got going.

            Seriously. It’d only make him more beautiful.

            I refrain from responding to Annie. We mustn’t disturb Kevin.

            I bet his dad forgot him again.

            “Yeah probably,” I say, and Annie tells me to shut up when Kevin glares at us. I mean me.

            Loser.

            “Shut up Annie.”

            “Yes, please do,” Kevin says, smirking. He smirks a lot. 

            “Do you mean me?” I ask. “You want me to shut up?”

            He’s silent.

            “Because I’m not Annie.”

            “Yeah, I know who you are.”

            You are such an idiot, Caitlin.

            “You do?” I ask, sounding a little too hopeful, and by ‘a little’ I mean I’m saying, “You do?” like he’s just accepted marriage vows. “I mean I just figured…since that time my sister had to give you a ride home? And you got out of the car and thanked her and then said to me, ‘Thanks Katherine,’ I was just assuming you didn’t know who I was.”

            Yeah. Even though we’ve lived in the same area and been in most of the same classes since forever.

            Kevin blows his hair out of his face and it falls right back over his eyes. “It’s really sad you remember that,” he says.

            You said it, brother.

            “Especially since it’s not such a pleasant memory, since me knowing who you are seems to be of some importance to you.” He tilts his head at me. “And aren’t schizophrenics supposed to repress bad memories, or something?”

            “I’m not schizophrenic,” I say.

            Yeah! We’re not schizophrenic.

            “Not yet, anyway,” Kevin replies, and turns away from me again.

            Stop staring at him.

            “You are too,” I tell Annie. Kevin laughs, and faces me again.

            “You are seriously nuts, you know? You need a doctor.”

            “No! I’m fine. Thoughts are easier to sort out if you respond to them out loud. Try it.”

            “I’d rather not,” he replies. “Fuck. Where is he?”

            “Your dad?”

            “No, Santa.”

            Do NOT say, ‘Santa doesn’t exist.’ It’s not funny or clever. It’s just lame, Caitlin.

            “Oh.”

            Yeah, that’s a hell of a lot better. I hate you sometimes.

            “I hate you all of the time.”

            “Does Annie hate you?” Kevin asks, smiling a bit like he’s playing with a little kid and their imaginary friend.

            “Yeah. Mostly because I’m lame. And because I named her Annie.”

            Well what in the hell is wrong with the name Francesca?

            “It’s tacky,” I say.

            “I wish I knew what you were thinking,” Kevin says.

            I laugh. “Oh no. You don’t.” Kevin shrugs, and checks his watch, and sighs really dramatically.

            “Do you think I could get a ride home from your sister again?” he asks.

            “No.”

            He looks up sharply. “No? Oh. Okay. It’s cool.”

            “She’s not picking me up. She’s got a dentist appointment. My mom is, but she had a meeting. She’ll give you a ride.”

            “You could’ve said that first. Actually you didn’t have to say that at all. You could’ve just said yeah.”

            “Annie says I like being complicated.”

            “Annie talks a lot.”

            You know, I don’t really mind being called Annie when it’s coming from him.

            “Yeah. You know what else she says? She says your dad sucks.”

            Kevin tenses a moment, but then shrugs and blows his hair out of his face again. He blinks rapidly when it falls back down.

            “She says it sucks he’s an asshole and yells at you all the time and then doesn’t pick you up and stuff because he doesn’t feel like it.”

            “Why does she know all this? Or care?”

            “Because she likes you,” I say.

            Oh my god Caitlin what are you doing stop it I’m going to pee or cry or something.

            “Yeah?” He smirks. “Tell Annie I don’t like her.”

            Fuck.

            “She can hear you,” I reply.

            “It’s nothing personal Annie. I don’t like anyone.”

            “Even me?” I say.

            CAITLIN STOP IT.  You are setting yourself up for heartbreak. It’s like we saw on that one talk show.

            Kevin smiles, then laughs. Really hard. “Yeah. I guess I like you alright.”

            Wait why doesn’t he like me, then? I’m way better than you. Seriously.

            “It was just funny, realizing it. Sorry.”

            “What’s funny about it?”

            “Well. Leave it to me to hate everyone but a weird schizophrenic chick.”

            We’re not schizophrenic, asshole.

            “And I knew your name. Know it. Whatever. It was a mistake.”

            This is the part where you giggle or something. No wait. Please don’t.

            “There’s my mom,” I say, and we both stand.

            “We could like. Hang out sometime,” Kevin says, as we’re walking to the car. His hand is on the car door handle, and I’m just watching him trying not to squeal or gape or pass out. He smiles.

            “Annie can come too.”