Note from the author:
Thank you so, so much to everyone who took the time to write me after the last chapter was published! I truly appreciate it. You guys are awesome!
I wasn't actually planning on releasing another installment quite this soon, but after reading through what I have already written, I'm comfortable putting this piece out right now. It may be a week or two before Chapter 4 comes out, though.
As always, I love to hear feedback from people, so shoot me a message at st_jimmy88@live.com
--James
P.S. I'd like to take this chance to thank the Nifty Archive for the incredible service they perform for us, authors and readers alike. Running a site this large and devoting the time and effort they do to receiving, sorting, and posting thousands upon thousands of stories is no easy task. Their ability to maintain this literary haven for us can only continue through the contributions of its members. So please, if you are able, consider donating to them at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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"In the Absence of Light"
CHAPTER 3
Several weeks passed, but to Andrew, they felt like an eternity. Every night, Joe would either be out with Miranda, or he would bring her over to watch a movie or just sit on the couch and talk before the two of them retired to his bedroom. At first, Andrew tried to make excuses to be gone every time the two of them were there, not wanting to be a third wheel, and even moreso, finding it difficult to watch the two of them in their little bubble of contentment and happiness.
Eventually, Miranda began to ask him to stay and hang out with them, feeling guilty that they seemed to be driving Andrew out of his own home. Joe would always eagerly agree, and Andrew began to take them up on the offer. Despite the constant, gnawing ache he felt in his heart every time he would glance at their interlocked hands, or witness them sharing a kiss that seemed to place a spell over Joe, Andrew and Miranda began to grow closer. She shared Andrew's interest in theater, and the two of them would spend hours at a time comparing their favorite shows, discussing musical theater composers, and placing their bets on the upcoming Tony Awards. Joe, completely oblivious to what any of it meant, simply sat there and smiled, happy and relieved that his best friend and girlfriend were getting along so well.
One early Saturday evening, Andrew pulled into the driveway as he returned from visiting with his parents on the other side of town. As he unlocked and opened the front door, he was met with a wall of smoke that seemed to be coming from the kitchen.
"Oh my God! Joe! Joe, are you alright?!" Andrew yelled as he ran past the threshold and into the kitchen, looking for a fire.
"Andrew! Uhhh...I'm REALLY sorry!" Joe said as Andrew's now stinging, watering eyes found him desperately trying to salvage blackened pieces of something out of the oven.
The kitchen looked like a war zone that had been hit by a tornado. Pots and pans were strewn all over the small, marble top island, nearly every bottle of seasoning from their cupboards open and scattered wildly around the stove, the paper wrapping of some freshly filleted fish jutting from the garbage can like a tongue being stuck out in mocking defiance. And surrounding it all, a thick cloud of smoke that smelled like a backyard barbeque.
Joe pulled the roasting pan from the oven, and on it, Andrew saw two charred pieces of what he guessed must have been salmon earlier that day. Staring at it for a moment, Joe roughly dropped the pan into the sink in frustration. The blackened pieces of fish were so badly burned onto the pan, they didn't even move when the pan hit the bottom of the sink.
"What is all this?!" Andrew asked, looking around in bewilderment.
"I asked Miranda over for dinner tonight. I wanted to make her something special," Joe said with agitation as he gestured to his laptop, which was perched precariously on top of the toaster.
Andrew walked over and looked at the laptop's screen. Joe had looked up a recipe for garlic and lemon broiled salmon with a side of sauteed mushrooms and asparagus. Andrew looked back and forth between the recipe, Joe, and the unholy mess that had been his perfectly clean kitchen when last he saw it that morning. After a moment of silence, Andrew couldn't help but to quietly laugh.
"But, Joe...the only time you've ever used the oven was to make those cookies last Christmas. And I'm sorry, buddy, but they came out looking like hockey pucks," Andrew said, trying to be as kind as possible while stifling his laughter.
"You said you liked those cookies!" Joe said defensively, taking a metal spatula to the pan and scraping off the ruined salmon, "Damn it! I don't know where I went wrong!"
"I DID like them! But...ya know, not everyone is as big a fan of charcoal as I am," Andrew jibed at Joe as he began to read the recipe.
"Ha. Ha. Thanks for the support. We can't all whip up a souffle or something out of nowhere. Thank God I bought extra salmon just in case something went wrong. Would you mind grabbing that out of the fridge for me?" Joe said as he finished clearing the pan.
"When is Miranda supposed to get here?" Andrew asked as he opened the refrigerator and picked up the brown paper wrapped salmon.
"In about an hour. I don't know how the hell I'm going to get all this done in time!"
Andrew once again glanced at the recipe as he set down the salmon. Drawing a breath, then coughing as he inhaled yet more of the smoke, he made his decision.
"Go open all the windows and turn on the air. We need to get this place cleared out quick," he said as he rolled up his sleeves and began to wash his hands, "then you need to go shower up and get dressed. I'll take care of this."
"Andy, are you sure, dude? That...that's asking a lot of you," Joe said as he dashed from window to window and let the acrid smell out of the house.
"Like you said, we can't all just 'whip up a souffle or something out of nowhere'. But I can. And salmon is easier than a souffle, so for God's sake, go get cleaned up and ready so you don't have to greet Miranda smelling like you just walked out of a meat smoking shack. I've got this," Andrew smiled at Joe.
"Thank you! Thank you so much, bro! I owe you one!" Joe said as he began to leave the room.
"Hey, Joe?" Andrew stopped him before he could leave, "I've never seen you try to cook for a girl before. Miranda must be something special, huh?"
Joe smiled from ear to ear, "You're damn right she is, buddy."
The smoke began to clear as Andrew felt the house's air system kick on. He had just put the fresh, unburned salmon into the oven when he heard the shower turn on in Joe's bathroom. He tried to focus as hard as he could on the recipe, but he couldn't stop the thoughts from forcing their way into his head. Why? Why the hell was he doing this to himself? Cooking a romantic meal for the man he loved and his girlfriend? This seemed like masochism at its finest. But when he finally relented and allowed himself to consider the situation, his hands working on autopilot as he sliced mushrooms and cleaned asparagus, he knew there was never any other option in his mind; Joe needed his help, and Andrew couldn't imagine letting him down.
The smell of burnt fish was soon replaced by a myriad of enchanting aromas as the salmon in the oven cooked, correctly this time, and the butter began to melt in his sautee pan. Andrew glanced at the clock and noted that Miranda would be there in about 15 minutes. Doing a mental checklist as he looked around the kitchen, he smiled sadly, knowing that he would be finished just in time for her arrival.
"Holy shit, that smells freakin' AMAZING!" he heard Joe say behind him as he emerged from his room, freshly dressed, smelling clean and sweetly of Armani cologne, and looking far more appetizing than anything Andrew could create in his kitchen.
"Well, thank you. Not too bad, considering the short notice, if I do say so myself," Andrew said as he added in a final dash of salt to the cooking mushrooms.
Taking the pan off the flame, Andrew went to a cupboard and pulled out two of his nicest plates of china and his real, vintage silverware; inherited gifts from his grandmother. He laid out the silverware and had begun to plate and garnish the food when the doorbell rang. Joe stepped out of the kitchen and came back in a moment later with Miranda.
"Oh, wow! That smells absolutely delicious, Andrew!" Miranda said as she walked in and set her purse down.
"Doesn't it? I can't take credit, though. This is all Joe. I'm just handling the china to make sure he doesn't break anything," Andrew smiled and said quickly before Joe could speak.
"Really? I didn't realize you were such a gourmand, babe," Miranda said as she gave Joe a quick peck on the lips before going to hug Andrew.
As she embraced him, Andrew looked up to see Joe mouthing the words, "thank you" to him, and he simply smiled back in response.
"Alright, you two, please sit down. Dinner is served," Andrew said with a humorously stereotypical French accent.
"Oh, why thank you, Lumiere!" Miranda laughed as she sat down at the dinner table.
"Wait, I got that one! That's from a musical! 'Beauty and the Beast', right?!" Joe exclaimed excitedly.
"Sorry, doesn't count if it's also a Disney movie, does it, Andrew?" Miranda smiled.
"Nope. Sorry, bro. Maybe next time," Andrew replied, winking at Miranda as he brought the plates to their table and laid one in front of each of them.
"Aren't you going to eat too?" Miranda asked as she noticed there were only two plates.
Joe opened his mouth to apologize for not thinking about that earlier, but ever ready, Andrew immediately responded, "Oh, no, thank you. I actually had an early dinner at my parents' house. I'm going to head out and see some friends."
It was a lie, of course. He hadn't eaten since noon, and he certainly didn't want to go hang out with anyone. In all honesty, he really didn't feel much like eating anyhow. He tried his best to keep a smile on his face, but as he looked at Joe, he read the apology in his eyes for not considering what Andrew would do while he and Miranda had their romantic dinner. And when he looked at Miranda, he knew that they both were reading past each other's smiles; his hiding the fact that he couldn't bear to sit there and watch them, and her's hiding the fact that she knew why.
"Well, thank you so much. For the china and stuff, I mean," Joe stumbled a bit.
"Yes, thank you for everything," Miranda echoed, seeming to emphasize that last word, as if she knew the truth.
"It's no problem at all. You two have a good night. I'll probably be getting back in pretty late, so I'll see you both in the morning if you stay the night, Miranda," Andrew said as he moved to grab his keys from the kitchen island, trying to remove himself as quickly as possible.
"Good night, Andrew. Be safe tonight," Miranda called after him as he started to head towards the front door.
Andrew turned and smiled at them both before heading out the door, the last thing he saw being Miranda's eyes returning to meet Joe's.
Once the door closed behind him, Andrew stopped to take in a breath of the cool night air before continuing to his car and getting inside. He sat there for a moment before turning on the overhead light and opening the glove compartment. His hand fumbled around inside it for a few seconds before pulling out a large translucent orange pill bottle with dozens of small white pills rattling around inside it. Counting out eight of them in his palm, he stared at the chalky tablets, his breath beginning to catch as his emotions began to swirl. Quickly, he brought his hand to his mouth, let all of the pills fall into his mouth, and washed them down with the bottled water he always kept in his car.
Replacing the pill bottle back into the glove compartment, he took one more look at the front door before turning on his ignition and backing out of the driveway as he willed the Vicodin with all his might to hit before the tears did.