Trashed and Scattered

“Oreos?” Jimmy grinned. “They’re mega stuffed!”
Peyton scowled, leaning her weight against the cart, “We’re here for groceries. Not Oreos.”
“Oreos are a kind of groceries, Lex,” he grinned, grabbing two boxes and tossing them sacrificially into the cart.
They’d been in the store for hardly five minutes and Jimmy had already half filled it with absolute junk. Peyton didn’t object, she found serious amusement in watching him stride up and down the aisles, selecting her cause of diabetes with utmost care.
The store was practically abandoned, which wasn’t all too surprising given the late hour. The cashiers stood around like zombies fueled entirely by Red Bull. No one seemed to pay any mind to the two tattooed night owls giggling in aisle seven.
Jimmy pulled at the end of the cart, nearly toppling Peyton over as her support slipped out from beneath her. She stumbled without grace, eliciting Jimmy’s intrigue.
“Dude,” she laughed, catching herself on her heels to steady her weight.
He cackled, “Don’t shit on me for your lack of coordination!”
“I was leaning on that!” Peyton snickered, kicking at the bottom of the cart, driving it straight into Jimmy’s calves.
His face twisted with horror and then with pain. Peyton threw her hands over her mouth to hide her shame—and her amusement. His blue eyes widened with the realization that this bitch was psycho.
“Why?” he demanded dramatically.
She laughed, still hiding behind her shaky fingers, “I’m so sorry!”
“You’re not!” Jimmy objected. “Sorry people don’t snicker about it!”
She tried her best to stifle her laughs, “I’m hardly snickering…It’s more of a nervous laugh, if anything.”
Jimmy straightened his brows, reaching into the cart without breaking eye contact. He snatched the jumbo pack of toilet paper and held it tightly to his chest.
“Confiscated,” he told her, the lisp bounding off of each consonant.
Peyton gasped, “Jimmy, no. I need toilet paper.”
He shook his head, turning back around with the toilet paper still clutched neatly in his grip, “No toilet paper for you.”
“Jimmy,” she smirked.
“Nope!” he declared as he strode out ahead. “You can wipe your ass with leaves from the yard!”
The visual had her keeled over the cart, struggling for air. She’d attempted that very instruction once in her life during an ill-fated camping trip her ex-boyfriend had insisted that they go on.
It will be fun, he’d said.
After digging a hole to relieve herself into, and subsequently realizing she’d left the paper back at the tent, Peyton had decided that camping was neither fun nor sanitary. She vowed to never, ever make that mistake again. Those poor leaves.
The sound of Peyton’s laughter was absolutely infectious. Jimmy release himself from his stronghold long enough to spin around and face the hyena sounding off behind his back. She glanced up at him quickly before setting into another round of giggles. She stomped her foot three times against the floor as if her thrashing might somehow make the fit cease.
“Are you a fucking horse?” Jimmy cackled.
Her laughter grew more ferocious as she dropped her arms onto the cart and then her head onto her arms. A curtain of shimmering brown strands guarded the world from her cries; but it the effects had already spread to Jimmy, who was now cracking up too.
“Stop,” he laughed.
She shook her head from beneath her brunette prison.
“If I give back the toilet paper, will you get it together?” Jimmy grinned, chuckles hiccuping through his lungs.
Peyton dared herself to look up at her tall friend. He was leaned against the end of the cart, feigning boredom despite the amusement scribbled all over his thin face. He’d never tire of the sound of her joy, but he was reluctant to admit that aloud.
“Put it in the cart,” she demanded, working her hardest to rein in the fit she’d found herself in the throes of, “and step away.”
Jimmy saluted, dropping the pack of paper into the cart with his other hand, “Yes, ma’am.”
Satisfied that her toiletries had been restored, she collected herself. Jimmy’s lips spread into a smile as he watched Peyton dab at the corners of her eyes.
“Use leaves,” she muttered giggly, pushing the cart slowly to get Jimmy moving without assaulting him again.
The pair carried on inside a comfortable silence, broken only by Peyton’s occasional rogue laughter. Jimmy knew he was funny but hadn’t fancied himself that funny. Maybe she was sleep deprived. Shit was always funnier when you were sleep deprived.
“Okay,” Peyton said seriously. “What I do need is cereal. And milk. And beef.”
Jimmy grimaced.
Peyton smirked, “What?”
“What a weird fucking order to list that shit off in,” he informed her, reaching out and snatching a box of Twinkies from the shelf.
He tossed it over his shoulder without a care. Peyton was annoyed when it landed, with perfect placement, in the cart. With her luck, she would have attempted that move and tossed the box straight through a glass window. She was notoriously unlucky.
Though, she’d stumbled across Jimmy early on in her return home, so perhaps her luck was finally catching a new wind. As Jimmy pranced up ahead, searching for god knows what, Peyton felt undeniably lucky.
He disappeared around the corner, which in no way baited Peyton to quicken her pace. She perused each aisle carefully, taking her time to make a selection. Jimmy wasn’t exaggerating when he said she had no food—she’d been surviving on delivery pizza and ramen noodles. A diet she hadn’t sampled since her days as a student.
When she moved her way into the next aisle, she was surprised to find it barren. There were no coyotes running rampant through the cereal selection—she’d have to go it alone. Her adult mind told her that cholesterol was something to be considered, but her rationale reminded her that sugar was better. So, she dumped a box of Cap’n Crunch into the cart and followed it closely with Coco Puffs. If only Joanna could see her now.
Joanna was very much about healthy lifestyles. She was constantly berating Peyton for her poor choices; dietary and life. But sometimes opposites attract, and such was the case for Peyton and Joanna’s friendship. They evened each other out and made for a solid pact that time had yet to break.
“Lexi!” Jimmy screeched from somewhere behind Peyton.
She jumped only a little, twirling around with blind fascination as Jimmy bound toward her in a hurry. He held a carton of milk in each hand.
“What percent do you like?” he asked her seriously.
She scoffed a laugh, “You screeched at me, and then ran over here…to ask me what kind of milk I drink?”
He nodded, his face pained that they’d run through the obvious.
Peyton was glad to see Jimmy had hardly changed at all. He was as exuberant as ever, as magnetic in his energy. Sure, he was a bit taller—a lot taller—and had pinned metal through his ear and lip, he’d tattooed every inch of skin and insisted on wearing more belts than she’d remembered. But, down into his essence—down into his soul—he was still that same old Wiley. God damn was she relieved.
Peyton smirked, pointing to the left, “That one.”
“Good choice!” Jimmy beamed, turning on his heel and disappearing around the corner once more.
Peyton followed slowly, a lone wheel creaking loudly against the tiled floor. It fluttered out of sync with the others, unnerving her down to her very core.
“Jimmy!” she called once he was in eye shot again.
He straightened out, glancing over his shoulder with curiosity.
She gestured down to the wheel, “Does this remind you of—”
“Totally,” he grinned.
He grabbed a carton of eggs and a brick of cheese and then high-tailed it back to the cart. He dumped the contents of his armful into the bin with a satisfied smile.
“I’ve been thinking that since you grabbed the world’s shittiest cart,” Jimmy told her happily as they walked in unison toward the meat.
She laughed quietly, “It’s your fault that I’m fucking horrified right now.”
“Should we throw some limbs onto the floor? You know, to really drive the horror home?”
“Some limbs?” Peyton groaned. “If you can find limbs on a whim, I don’t think we can be friends.”
He smirked, “I didn’t say human limbs, Peyton. We’ll grab some chicken wings and shit. You can run them over with me in the cart. I’ll be Jacob Singer and you can be the nurse.”
“Oh, so you want to play doctor,” Peyton grinned. “You should have just asked.”
“This is me asking,” Jimmy grinned right back. “Except then instead of hand stuff, you’ll tell me that I’m actually dead. Won’t that be fun?”
All Peyton could focus on was his casual use of the term hand stuff. Where had this guy’s mind crawled out from?
Jacob’s Ladder had traumatized her as a child. Jimmy had endlessly insisted on watching it—sometimes on a loop. She’d hated it with a fiery passion from behind the wool ends of his blanket; the only positive aspect stemmed from the crook in Jimmy’s chest that she was granted access to. In exchange for two hours of disturbing horror, Jimmy would let her nuzzle in close.
He’d never lead on that Jacob’s Ladder was the perfect catalyst for affection—and Peyton had never caught onto his game. Any excuse to have his arm around her shoulders was one Jimmy would milk until the end of time.
Peyton had stumbled upon the movie in a thrift store just after her eighteenth birthday. As she ran her fingers over the case, all she could do was obsess about her Wiley. Her mind fluttered back and forth from reality to memory, settling into the dimly lit bedroom where she’d spent most of her youth. It was a far cry from the cluttered and cramped studio apartment she overpaid to live in. Call it nostalgia or sheer longing, she’d rung up the purchase and spent the evening bound by Jacob’s journey.
The film had quickly become one of her favorites; every time she’d watch it, she’d think of Wiley. She’d think of a simpler time; a better time. She’d think of the love she’d found amidst the chaos of hell and she’d marvel in just how very blessed she’d been. How idiotic she was to give it up without a fight.
“Can we watch that?” Peyton thought aloud. “It’s been way too long since we’ve seen it.”
Jimmy cocked an eyebrow, “I literally just watched it last week.”
“I meant together,” Peyton smiled.
“Oh, shit yeah!” Jimmy beamed. “I’ll watch Jacob’s Ladder with you any time, Lex.”
He never thought he’d see the day that his friend would request to be subjected to that misery. As an adult, though, he knew it wouldn’t be the same. He couldn’t use the excuse to touch her, to steal her up and pretend that she was his. Too much had happened—not just in the thirteen years apart but in the several days together too. Only Peyton and Jimmy could manage to build up such disorder in such a short period of time. They were far too reckless to be together, but too reckless to be apart.
“Nachos and Jacob’s Ladder,” Peyton suggested happily, surveying a pack of chicken breasts.
Jimmy grinned, “Perfect.”
“Tomorrow?” she pitched nervously.
It was one thing to set a plan; the vague, obligatory some day plan. It was another thing entirely to set a plan. She used the opportunity to judge how far they’d come in their newfound friendship, and how far they’d strayed from the one they’d shared prior.
“Tomorrow,” Jimmy mumbled, glancing around as if the frozen meat section might also house his schedule.
Peyton grew nervous. Instead of waiting it out, she meandered away in search of the perfect ground beef. She’d need it for the nachos that she would inevitably consume, with or without company.
Jimmy had plans with Natalie for the following night. They were supposed to get dinner, as a last ditched effort on Natalie’s behalf to reignite the flame that had seemingly burned out. She wasn’t sure when it had happened; just that it had. When Jimmy had declared he’d be moving out for a few weeks—her words, not his—she knew that she was in trouble.
But Jimmy longed for space. He needed fresh air to clear his head; he needed to find his footholds on his own. Natalie was always in the way of that; she had been for a long time. All too quickly Jimmy’s life had become less about him and all about her. He resented her for it, a feeling unbeknownst to him until he felt passion reignite.
And it had reignited with someone else.
It had been downhill from there; a quick and rough tumble through the vines. They grabbed at him, begging him to slow his momentum…but he was impatient and claustrophobic. He yearned for freedom—but was still nervous about what that might taste like. So, he’d taken a small step in the only direction available.
He figured he owed it to Natalie to at least try. She hadn’t done anything catastrophically wrong—she hadn’t maimed him or disrespected him. He wondered how she might react if ever he slipped the truth about his own indiscretion passed her prying ears. To ease his guilt, he’d agreed to dinner.
But Peyton was beautiful and fleeting. Jimmy couldn’t bring himself to pass up the opportunity to spend time with her—knowing full well that when she’d leave, he’d likely never hear from her again. It was the same tale she’d woven for their lives once before. He knew she was capable. His actions, he assumed, had probably made her willing. So, he longed for the chance to make it right before it was too late.
He couldn’t risk losing his Lexi again.
Dinner wasn't something a little food poisoning couldn't get him out of. Perhaps a flu might do the trick.
“Tomorrow’s good,” Jimmy finally announced, grabbing the meat from Peyton’s hands and tossing it back into the row.
He handed her a bigger pack with better color. She muttered to herself as she threw it into the cart.
“I have to be at the studio until five-ish,” he told her, mentally scanning his nonexistent day planner. “But then I’m free for Ladder times!”
Peyton cringed as she got the cart moving once more, “Please don’t ever say that to me again.”
He laughed, “No promises.”
“We need taco seasoning,” she told him.
His eyes lit up, his mind transporting him to a time when that’s all they would eat. Nachos with taco seasoned beef was their favorite evening snack. They’d always melt the cheese straight onto the plate, which infuriated Jimmy’s mother to no end.
“I’m on it!” Jimmy declared happily, disappearing in a rush.
Leave it to Jimmy to turn something mundane as grocery shopping into something fun. Peyton hadn’t laughed this much in god knows how long. She relished in the feeling; savoring it down to the last drop. Despite the unfortunate circumstance she and Jimmy had created for themselves, and the endless misery that came along with not repeating their one evening of bliss, Peyton dared to let herself have hope. Hope that things could be normal again; hope that maybe life wouldn’t be as grim as she’d been picturing.
For a quick second, she let a flicker of hope for their future burn up and then die. Her father’s voice condescending the back of her mind as she imagined a future of grocery shopping and endless antics. Her life would be full of laughter if somehow, she and Jimmy could prove the stars. If only fate could steer their hand, she’d thought. Her hope, then, might have been justified.
But as Jimmy reappeared once more, triumphantly holding two packets of seasoning overhead, Peyton was flooding with a bittersweet sense of victory.
She’d made it back. She’d made it passed the explanations, if only just temporarily. And somehow, she’d managed to worm her way back into Jimmy’s life.
That aching in her heart swelled up; the way it had when she was still growing. It was an ache that only Jimmy could instill inside of her—and ache that had never, ever been remedied, no matter how hard she’d tried. She needed to push it down; she needed to get it under control. For the sake of her sanity and the sake of their friendship, Peyton needed not to believe in soul mates.
Not to believe in anything.
Her hope faded away with their childhood.

Notes

xx