All the Things We Should Have Done

 "Fuck," Stevie winced with a swelled frown. Just how long had he been out? Wasn't he supposed to be at the Preschool center? He felt as if he'd slept a year or so and there was  J sacked out next to him as the sun poured in.

Yes, maybe they needed this. Hibernation after a miserable time. There were other things he knew he should be thinking about instead of Holly.

At the moment, he didn't like her very much. She'd taken up way too much of his time. Especially, his time with J. He sat up and blinked. Was the bad stuff really over?

Instantly, he fell back on his pillow. What about Tim?

Finally, it was rewinding back in his head about what his mother had said. "Tim is dead."

He winced tears. No. No that wasn't true. He did not remember any of it. Of course, he'd been in a coma then too. He didn't even have a clue what led up to it. It was like Tim just ignored him, playing so hard to get. Stevie didn't know what to do.

He sighed. Funny, Holly was in a coma too. Had he been that testy?

He didn't remember. It wasn't supposed to be that way. 

The tears emerged. He couldn't stop it as hard as he winced his eyes. At first, the tears were so warm but instantly became cold. 

Finally, he managed to get in his sleep pants, tank, and fuzzy slippers. It wasn't until he got to the kitchen that he noticed the coffee was on and there was his mom reading one of her trashy romances and sipping black coffee.

"I'm not making breakfast," she informed him without looking up. She reminded him it was Sunday and it was the perfect day to sleep in. She mentioned the weather. It might look sunny, but it was deceiving. Frost was still on the windshield of his car. He noticed as he peaked between the blinds in the front window of the livingroom.

Stevie nodded and went to make a feast with his black coffee with milk and sugar. It was lukewarm by the time he got the concoction ready and seated across from her in their open kitchen.

"I don't remember, Mom." He looked at her as if she needed to give him details.

"Well, you smoke too much," she pointed out his bad habits. He was still a pothead in her book.

"Mom, I don't smoke," he winced back. "J isn't like that, you know."

She nodded. She still believed J might be Tim. "But he's dead, you know."

"We don't know for sure," Stevie told her. It felt as if his presence faded into the wind. He almost felt comfortable talking about him. Nevertheless, there had been a car crash on the bridge and Tim might have gotten washed away in the Missouri River.

"But..but I wasn't driving. I didn't do the driving," he insisted. "Especially, in..in somebody else's car."

These were the facts. His mother remained unchanged. It was then he did wonder if he'd grown since then. He knew he wouldn't have thought so until he met J.