# A Surprise Visit Chapter 2

2
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A cacophony of groans and yawns interrupts my light shitposting endeavours on an American building demolition forum. I look over to see Trish sprawled out across my bed, deeply focusing as she stretches every limb in a different direction simultaneously. A sigh reverberates throughout her entire body, every limb goes slack and she opens her eyes.
“Morning,” I say, very amused at her little routine.
“Morning,” she yawns in response, a wide smile plastered on her face that I couldn’t help but mimic. It’s probably been months since I woke up with such a smile on my face.
“Yeah, me too,” Trish sighs, sitting upright. Damnit, mumbling.
“Have a good sleep?”
“Yeah, big time.”
“Good to hear.” Trish stands up and stretches again, joints audibly popping.
“Think I’m good to go. Thanks again, Anon. For everything.” I rise from my chair and start to move towards the door, but Trish intercepts me with a very sudden hug. I return the embrace, wrapping myself in the little purple dino. Very little, in fact. I knew she was short, but I don’t think I’ve been able to make such a direct comparison until now. The tip of her back horns barely breach my chin, her face completely buried in my chest. And her chest...how much is that sweater hiding?
Easy Anon, there’s a time and a place for that. Not now.
“Actually, before I go, give me your phone number.” We exchange contact information and I walk her out of my apartment, wishing her a safe trip as she returns to her home.
As I sink back into my desk chair, it doesn’t take me long to realize just how quiet it is in here. How empty it is. Fuck. Should’ve told her to come back soon. Should I have? Or would that have been too much? Maybe-
Stop. Relax. I’ve got time. We’ve got time. I glance over at the calendar, my father’s words echoing in my mind.
“Once the lease is done, Anon, either college or the service. I don’t care which.”
I spend a bit more time finishing the cleaning I had started earlier, now that I didn’t have to worry about disrupting somebody's sleep. No more trash, no more dirty dishes, and everything else - while not completely spotless - was definitely a vast improvement. And a nice way to keep my mind occupied.
My pocket buzzes, startling me. It hasn’t done that in ages. It’s a text from Trish.
“yo”
“Yo” I reply.
“You make it back?”
“ye”
“Cool”
“How did you get my address anyway?”
“fangs dad, wasnt easy”
We converse for a while longer, straying from anything too important or depressing. It wasn’t as nice as when she was here in the flesh, but it was a close second, and preferable to the crushing loneliness of the past few months.
​
---
It had been a few days since I last saw Trish. I can’t stand the thought of being alone but the thought of fucking up and pushing her too far keeps me in check. It’ll all be okay, right? She just needs time. We had exchanged a number of texts in the meantime, mostly doing our best to keep each other’s spirits up, or at least not down. Buzzing from my phone - a text from Trish. Better enjoy this conversation, cause the day’s only downhill after it’s over.
“yo”
“Yo”
“can u come over when u arent busy”
“Sure”
This is an incredibly welcome surprise. Her address pops up on my screen, and I enter it into Gruugle Maps. A good thirty minute walk in the sweltering late-August heat, but I don’t care. I get to see Trish again. I gather a few belongings and practically rush out the door, almost forgetting to lock it behind me. ‘When you aren’t busy’ means ‘as soon as possible’, even I know that.
​
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​
I look over Trish’s house, now in front of me. It’s fairly ordinary, a bit on the smaller side and with no cars in the driveway, but then again Trish had never mentioned any siblings. Or parents, for that matter. I take a quick peek at my phone as I approach. Twenty-five minutes walking, that’s good time. I quickly rap on the door to announce my presence, and am immediately responded to.
“Come in!” I hear Trish call from inside. I pop open the door and close it behind me. The living room is also fairly generic. Flat screen TV on some drawers, coffee table, couch, side table, a couple of random ornaments and knick-knacks hung up on the wall. Trish is laying upright against the center of the couch, sprawled out and attempting to take up as much space as possible. It admittedly isn’t a lot, but she’s trying.
“You good? You look like you just ran a marathon.” It was then I realized just how hot and out of breath I was.
“Yeah I...it’s hot out. You got drinks?”
“Bottles in the fridge. Grab me one too.”
I retrieve a pair of water bottles, passing one to her as I plop down onto one of the cushions Trish is failing to fully occupy. I crack the top off and slurp down the quenching goodness. Oh, sweet water. I settle back into the couch, sighing in relief. This might be the best water I’ve ever tasted. Couch isn’t half bad either. And the air conditioning is right on me.
“Forgetting something, mister narrator?” Trish asks playfully. I really need to get a handle on that.
“Not at all. Already got you your water, remember?” A plastic cap bounces off of my head in response.
“Jackass,” she giggles.
“Anyways, what’s up?” I ask, slightly shifting towards her.
“I was in a bit of a bad funk. I’m better now, you can go,” she smirks.
“And subject me to another half hour of grueling summer heat? Harsh.” I move to get up from the couch, but a yellow sleeve wraps around my elbow and yanks me back down.
“No. Stay.” Trish rests her head on my shoulder while gripping my arm. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her close, and she sighs mirthfully.
“Wanna put something on? That’s a nice TV.”
“No, you’re all I want right now.”
We stay like this for some time. Not sure how long, but it honestly doesn’t matter - this is the best I’ve felt in a long time.
“Anon…” Trish suddenly speaks up, doubt and anxiety in her voice.
“Yeah?” I couldn’t help but echo her tone. What she was about to say wasn’t going to be happy.
“Why are you here?”
“Because you asked me to?” I reply, almost by reflex. Nice one, fucktard.
“No, you…” She sighs. “Why are you here for me? I thought you hated me. After everything I did…”
“Trish, the stuff with the auditorium...it was bad, but it’s long behind me now. Behind us.”
“And everything else? When I yelled at you, treated you like dirt, threatened to hurt you?”
“Behind us, Trish,” I insisted. “It was a hard time for all of us. What happened is gonna haunt us to our fucking graves. Hell, it was going to even if we weren’t involved at all.” Trish pressed closer into me and shivers.
“You know, if it weren’t for you...I wouldn’t be here…” What...oh shit.
“That day, I was certain you were going to yell at me, turn me away, tell me you hated me, or something like that. That even if I had gotten the truth off of my chest, you would’ve used it to hurt me more, and that I would’ve deserved it. I would’ve left, gone outside and, I don’t know, got hit by a fucking truck or something.” Trish sniffles, tears starting to fall.
“Again and again, I think I have it all figured out, and then you show up and everything falls apart. What am I missing?”
“Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. And I’m certainly a whole lot of anything.” What does that even mean? Trish weakly snickers at the absurdity of that statement and leans into me further.
“That better not be a quote from some cartoon or something.” She tries her best to not sound sad.
“What? Come on, everyone knows Murphasaur’s Law!” I throw my hands up in a quiet faux-anger, and immediately realize my hands are the only thing keeping me upright. I fall backwards into the arm rest and Trish falls with me onto my chest. Trish finds no issue with this and decides to take the opportunity to wrap her arms around me. We stay like this for a bit, and Trish’s tears dry soon enough. I decide to ask a question that’s been on my mind for a while and also steers the subject away from what we were just talking about.
“How did you find those pictures of me anyway?”
“A few very late nights sleuthing on Grugbook trying to figure out what had even happened at Rock Bottom in the first place. Once I figured that out, I just had to ask around. The person I found who actually had the pictures practically threw them at me. He really didn’t seem to like you very much, and the idea of a ‘repeat’ was very appealing to him. After that, I just fucked with the lens the day of the presentation, slipped the pictures in when Reed asked me to help, and bam - you go back to being some nobody loner and everything goes back to normal.”
“Except not only did that last part not happen, you ran face first into Principal Spears’ gargantuan hand. I’m a little surprised he didn’t pop you.”
“He was actually incredibly gentle, which made it even scarier knowing he could pop me at any moment, but was just choosing not to.”
It’s a little surprising that we’re able to look back on high school without completely breaking down. The TV flicks on and Trish navigates to some channel. The volume was barely audible but suitable enough for background noise. Trish nuzzles into my chest and I start stroking her back, subtly rocking her. She falls asleep rather quickly, and I’m left in the same room as a sleeping Trish for the second time this week. Certainly quite the gear shift after wasting away for the better part of four months.
​
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​
The front door knob rattles and turns, and a pair of footsteps stumble in. Fang’s dad immediately appears in the forefront of my mind. Oh fuck not again, and this was worse too - she’s sleeping on top of me! A dozen different panicked ideas flood into my mind, paralyzing me on the spot. They walk in between the TV and the coffee table, and I come face to face with who I can only assume is Trish’s mom. She’s wearing a sharp business suit and holding a bulky suitcase that could easily clobber me if needed. Her resemblance to Trish is obvious - a short, purple triceratops, purple eyes, dark purple hair that curled onto itself, quite well equipped, and probably just as temperamental - almost carbon copies, except that she was leaning towards the thicker side. We lock eyes and she takes a deep breath. I brace myself and hope my skull survives the impending debacle intact. She looks back and forth between Trish and I multiple times, before slowly releasing her breath. Her expression softens ever so slightly.
“You stay as long as you like, sk- sweetie,” she whispers with barely restrained anger before walking off into the kitchen.
Fucking hell how am I still alive. I glance down at Trish, who thankfully didn’t budge an inch during that little exchange. Well, I’m sure as hell not moving for a while, might as well get comfy.
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A familiar mess of groans and yawns meets my ears once again as Trish sprawls herself out as much as possible.
“Oooof. Man, you’re comfy,” Trish yawns before going slack.
“Y-you too.” Goddamnit. Wait, that might have been smooth this time.
“What time is it,” Trish mutters while grabbing her phone. “Ah shit. Late,” punctuated by Trish’s stomach loudly growling. When was the last time I ate? Breakfast?
“You got food here?”
“Meh. Too lazy.”
“So we’re starving tonight?”
“No, you idiot, we’re getting fast food. Come on.” Trish takes an agonizingly long time to lift herself off of me and into a sitting position. “We leave now, we should be able to get there before it closes.”
“Alright, alright, I’m up.” I open the door for Trish and close it behind me. “The hell are we going anyway?”
“Rocko Bell, it’s just a few minutes away.” Trish sets off into a jog that I am woefully unready for. I can’t even keep pace with her, arriving at the Rocko Bell a couple of minutes after her, completely out of breath.
“Damn, I thought I was out of shape.” I try to muster a response but I can only quietly seethe in between breaths. We quickly order some food and sit down, and then tear into our meals after they arrive, finishing in what is probably record time. Trish and I both moan in post-meal ecstasy; it probably wasn’t even that good, but in the moment it was heavenly nectar.
“Ffffuck.” I raise an eyebrow at Trish. “Now we gotta walk back,” she groans.
“Hang on, I know a guy.” I dial a number into my phone for the taxi service. A voice responds.
“City taxi service.”
“We’re at the Rocko Bell, can you-”
“Got it.” The phone hangs up. Trish looks at me, incredibly confused.
“You know there’s more than one Rocko Bell, Right? How would-” She’s interrupted by the squeal of rubber from outside.
“There’s our ride. Let’s go.” Trish attempts a word of protest, but I’m already opening the door for her. A grimy looking taxi waits on the curbside, the grimy velociraptor inside looking at us expectantly. I pop open the rear taxi door and lead Trish in, then settle myself on the other seat.
“My favorite skinnie’s still kickin’, I’ll be damned. Where’re you two headed this time of night?”
“My place,” Trish responds curtly, offering the driver her address, still in a state of sheer confusion.
“Real short ride. You got it.” The driver chuckles at his own remark as it flies over Trish’s head. The taxi peels out and does a one-eighty on the spot, then hurtles its way down to Trish’s house. Less than a minute later the taxi smoothly comes to a stop outside of Trish’s house. We exit the taxi and I start to move towards the front door, only to be intercepted by Trish. She wraps me into a rough, almost violent hug, and I respond in kind, squeezing her and almost lifting her off the ground.
“So I guess this means I’m not staying?”
“I wouldn’t mind, but I’d rather...not strain my mom’s good will any further. Plus we had a good time tonight, right?”
“Of course, of course. See you soon?”
“Definitely. I feel like three days was a bit too long for my liking.” We hold the embrace for a little while longer before breaking off and saying our goodbyes. I slide back into the taxi and the driver grins.
“Hey, it’s a start. And after the clusterfuck you went through, I’m surprised you came out the other end at all, much less in one piece. Skin Row?” I nod and the taxi takes off in the direction of my apartment.
The taxi stops a few blocks short of my apartment. “End of the line, skinnie.” I hand him what’s probably enough to pay for the fare and make my way back to my apartment. The first time in months I’ve opened the door to a clean and orderly dwelling. You did good, Anon. Time to collapse on the bed and pass out.
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​
Trish walks into my apartment once again, having texted earlier about visiting.
“Welcome back to Casa del Anon, this time not a complete fucking mess.”
“Yeah, and neither are you, good job.” Yeah, you’re not getting away with that. I step behind and sling my arms around her. I’m not exactly strong enough to lift her up and threaten to throw her, but it’s enough to elicit a high-pitched yelp and a glare that says ‘if I didn’t know you I’d gore you on the spot’.
We crack open a couple of drinks, have a seat on the bed and start chatting about this and that. Trish’s mom almost chewed her out for not only having a skinnie over, but sleeping on him right in the living room. We tentatively agreed that, whatever happened between us, Trish’s mom would probably have to get over her ‘implicit biases’ at some point if I were to continue being alive. I’ll let Trish take point on that one, thank you very much. Trish had made an effort to reach out to Reed, and suggested that I do too. Maybe after you warm him up for me? I know he’s chill, but it’s still a lot to work through.
Our conversation hits a lul at some point, and we take a moment to just appreciate the moment.
“Anon…?” Trish speaks up. That damn tone again.
“Yeah…?” That damn tone…
“What...exactly happened? After the prom concert?” I immediately cringe, every single word I said to Fang that night and the night after flashing through my mind. This was not my first time grappling with this; it had happened almost every single day since prom. At first I didn’t really understand what had happened, surely I couldn’t have fucked up that badly all by myself, right? But day by day I slowly came to realize just how badly I fucked up. Every word, every intonation, every action added to the fuck-up pile. My selfishness, my apathy, my aloofness all contributed. Surely, if I didn’t care then Fang didn’t need-
“Anon? I’m sorry, we don’t have to, I just thought…”
“What? No, no, I’m just...collecting my thoughts. There’s...a lot.”
I hesitantly start to retread through the events of that night. I find Fang crying in the auditorium, and then my first fuck-up: Trying to comfort Fang by telling them that nothing mattered. I bring them home, and then my second fuck-up: Rattling off about fucking video game knowledge while they lay behind me. Third, fourth, fifth, through to a thousandth fuck-ups: Not handling the Naomi situation properly, and even just implying that what she did was okay and that I was only doing what she wanted. Final fuck-up: Letting Fang use me like the tool they knew I were the following night.
By the end of it all, I’m on the verge of tears and Trish’s face is buried into my arm.
“And the entire time, I was convinced that if they saw the world the way I did, and they stopped caring about all that shit, they’d come out the other end just fine. Fuck.” The final word and the following silence is a fitting punctuation to the recollection of my greatest failures. I hope I never have to say all that shit again. We sit in that silence for a little while, letting those nights weigh over us like a blanket of fog. The worst passes and we’re eventually done wrestling with our own thoughts.
“So, uh…” Trish’s eyes catch something and she tries to move the conversation elsewhere.
“What’s in that package?”
“Package? What-”
OH FUCK.
My brain immediately shuts down and I freeze like a deer in headlights.
“That one.” Trish stands up. Stop. She walks over to the dressers. Stop. She picks up the package. Stop. She walks back. Stop. She sits down. Stop. She starts to turn it over in her hands. STOP.
I finally wrestle control back over myself and violently snatch the bubble envelope from her hands while letting out an unintelligible shout.
“Anon, what the fuck?”
I can’t let this be open. I can’t. I won’t. I don’t deserve what’s inside. I don’t deserve what it would show. I don’t deserve those happier times. I don’t deserve the briefest respite-
“Anon!” Trish borderline shouts at me. I snap out of my funk and look at her, face full of concern.
Trish. Here. With me. Together. Maybe…
Relax. Collect your thoughts. Take the plunge.
I shakily flip the bubble envelope over in my hands and bring it in front of us, the tracking information on display. Sent by Fang’s mom, Samantha, and sent from Fang’s address. Every letter raises my heart rate further.
“How long have you had this?”
“It came in a few weeks after the funeral. I don’t know why she sent them to me, but she did.” My voice is shaky, I can barely manage to speak.
“And...what’s in it?” The worry in Trish’s voice reaches a peak.
“Pictures,” I whisper, on the verge of vomiting.
“A-anon, we...we don’t need to-”
“No...no. We do. I…we...fuck.” My heart is in my throat. I can barely breathe. But I need this.
“We won’t get a better opportunity.”
I flip the bubble envelope back over and move towards the seal. Trish’s hand moves with mine. A tinge of hope. We’ll do this together, as one. We break the seal, and the flap lazily unfolds itself. My heart is going to explode. My lungs are going to collapse. I reach towards the opening, but stop short. Trish’s hand intertwines with mine. We reach towards the opening. We look at each other. I try to keep a straight face, but my eyes show the sheer terror I’m experiencing. She smiles and nods, mouthing ‘It’ll be okay.’
It’ll be okay.
We reach into the bubble envelope, and latch on to the small stack of paper inside. Trish keeps my hand steady as we pull it out and place it on the envelope. Our hands are covering the top picture. The first of many. Trish slowly moves our hands out of the way.
Naomi and Naser striking a pose together, Naomi looking ecstatic in her beautiful red prom dress and Naser looking cool and collected in his white suit-jacket and aviators. The last pose they would ever strike together.
Naser and I in our ugly suits together. I would be the last thing Naser sees just days later.
Naomi and I posing together, the both of us trying to not look uncomfortable. Her plans for Fang and I had failed.
Tears fall from my eyes, threatening to forever damage the last physical memories I had of them. I choke back a sob, but continue going through the pile. Many repeats of before with slightly different poses.
Fang’s dad, Ripley, and I, his massive claw digging into my shoulder. How he must hate me for all this.
We finally get to the bottom of the pile.
Wait, where is-
"...That is no way to talk to your mother, young lady!" Ripley’s voice booms across the insides of my skull. Fang practically yanks me out of the house right after.
The dam breaks. The anguish and sorrow I had bottled up for months explodes out of me in a mortifying wail of pure grief.
“WHY?”
I collapse into the bed, screaming as the pictures scatter onto the floor.
“WHY?”
I curl myself up defensively, but nothing can protect me from the enemy inside.
“WHY?”
Trish tries to help, but there’s nothing she can do.
“WHY?”
I know why, but I scream anyway.
​
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​
“Anon?”
My throat and lungs burn, my chest aches, my eyes sting, my ears ring, my nose is blocked, my vision is blurry, my breathing is ragged, my limbs are numb, my mind is foggy...Fang is gone.
“Tri-” I try to call out, but am cut off by a vicious cough. My throat sears in pain. A water bottle touches my lips, and I gratefully take in the drink.
“Oh! Thank God you’re alive.” I wish I wasn’t.
“Please...don’t say that Anon.” Sorry, Trish. She offers more water and I gladly accept.
“What...happened?” I dare ask.
“You screamed so much you passed out. I think.” Sounds about right. “Are you alright?”
“I’ve been shot before. This is worse, by far.”
Trish spends several minutes giving me water as I slowly recover. I’m so exhausted, but I know I won’t be sleeping it off any time soon.
“Trish...thank you. I would’ve never been able to do that by myself.”
“Are you sure you should be thanking me? You look…”
“Yeah, I feel worse. This’ll hurt for...a long, long time. But it’s better now than later. I’ll get better. And on the other side, I’ll end up a better person. Or something like that.” I groan as I struggle to sit upright, all kinds of muscles and old wounds aching and cramping from the tension. I motion to the photos scattered on the ground, asking Trish to pick them up. I’d help, but moving hurts. She carefully stacks all the photos up and places them back in the envelope, placing it off to the side.
I feel like a corpse, inside and out. All I have left of those fateful nights are memories. I feel like an idiot too - how could I have forgotten that argument? All this time, I was terrified of opening it, of reliving the moments within, and the one thing that made me happy wasn’t even in there. What a fucking joke.
“Anon, I’m still here for you.”
“Shit, I wasn’t mumbling, was I?”
“No, but you’re definitely dwelling. Alone.”
“Yeah…”
I spill my broken heart out to Trish for the third time tonight. She’s remarkably calm as I rocket back and forth between random memories and details of my relationships and interactions with Fang, Naomi and Naser. Some things I had never been able to tell anyone, some things I never intended to tell anyone, and some things that were better left unsaid. I feel a little better after all of it, although admittedly not much.
“There are no second chances. Just have to live with the fuck-ups,” I conclude, unsure if it really connects to what I was saying earlier. Not that it really matters at this point. I look over at Trish. She seems to be soaking in every word I’m saying. Purple hair, purple eyes, purple scales, purple tail, purple lips. She’s so fucking purple. Kinda pretty too…
“Anon you’re mumbling,” Trish blurts, blushing lightly. I place my hand on her cheek and bring her eyes to mine, causing her to blush even harder.
Our lips meet and the world around us melts. Doesn't matter, we don't need it right now. All I need is right in front of me. A blissful eternity wrapped in a scant few seconds, I curse the passage of time itself for not allowing this to last forever. Our lips part ways with a quiet pop. I would complain more, but now I get to resume looking into those beautiful purple eyes. Her eyes that are betraying the moment, a shell-shocked expression occupying her face.
"Everything okay, Trish?" I whisper to her.
Everything was not okay - she looks like she just witnessed a high speed car wreck.
She tightly grips the edges of my jacket as a tear falls down her face. A sorrowful gasp breaks her silence. A powerful sob racks her body and her tears start to wet my sleeve.
"Easy now, you can talk to-"
A terrible screech conveying a hundred different emotions cuts me off and Trish starts screaming into me.
"Trish? Please-"
Nothing I say gets through to her. I need to do something, she’s done that for me.
I spend the next several minutes trying everything I can think of to calm her down even a little bit, but nothing works. Did a kiss really cause all of this?
A violent coughing fit takes sudden hold of Trish, and she's caught between a flurry of hacks, sobs and gasps for air as her body desperately tries to regulate her breathing.
"Why…I...We..." Her voice is hoarse and she can barely speak without coughing. She stares off into the wall, trembling.
"We…Why..." She can barely manage a syllable at a time through heavy, ragged breaths. Is she going to be okay after that? Is she even thinking straight?
"We…fucked up…" she shivers. "Naomi…" she stutters. "Naser…"
"We…" Trish was quiet now, at the bottom of her depressive spiral - I hope - only a cold despair left in her voice.
"We fucked everything up...they didn’t get a second chance, so why do we?"
A dagger of ice pierces my heart. I open my mouth but no words come out. The words bounce around in my skull a hundred times. Say something. Anything. Fix this. My mind rattles off a dozen different things to say and every single one of them is atrocious. Maybe I should just be quiet.
“They would want us to have one.” Or I could say that.
We sit in silence and I desperately pray that what just forced itself from my mouth wasn’t completely retarded.
“Yeah…you’re right.” What? Trish is still visibly upset, but she seems determined to get her thoughts out.
“You said it yourself, we’re gonna take this shit to our graves. It’s never gonna leave us. We’ve been wallowing in it this entire time, and we’ve got the rest of our lives to wallow in it. When was the last time we looked forward?”
“Well, I was certainly looking forward to today.”
“That...was disgustingly sappy.”
“Bet you liked hearing it.”
Trish only groans in response, but I can see the slightest hint of a smile on her face.
“Come on Anon, I’m trying to be serious.”
“We’ve been serious all day. I really need to lighten up before my heart stops.” I get up and grab us a couple more drinks from the fridge, then practically throw myself onto the bed.
“Ugh, fuck,” I groan. Everything still kind of hurts. “Not that I’m rushing you, but how much longer you plan on staying?”
“Hm. Dunno.”
“Your mom’s probably gonna be pissed if you’re not back before she is.”
“So?” A hint of anger makes its way into Trish’s voice.
“Alright, fair enough.” Don’t want to touch that any more than I have to.
“Sorry, it’s just...you’re the only person I’ve been able to talk to about any of this. And besides, I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. If she has a problem with that then-”
“Easy, it’s not gonna come to that.” She falls backwards into my chest, sighing some unidentifiable mix of emotion. She looks over at me. I smile and she smiles back. I obnoxiously waggle my eyebrows.
“You fucking...ugh.”
“What’s wrong, Trish? Something...caught your eye?”
“Something’s about to catch my horns if it doesn’t stop.” We share a small laugh and Trish stretches herself onto me. It had been a long day. Probably anyway, I don’t actually know the time, but I don’t feel like looking. We say our goodnights and exhaustion quickly overtakes us, sending us into a deep sleep together.