Bryce

My emotions couldn’t wait for me to get to my car to bawl my eyes out. Instead, it paralyzed me on College Avenue for pedestrians to witness, looking at me with pity. The pain and the constant rejection finally tipped me over to the point where I’m no longer standing for Rob going off into the sunset with yet another guy. The time has come to act.

Once I jump in my car, I pull myself together and start thinking about how I can put an end to that so-called relationship. Having some ideas in mind, I push the pedal to the metal and stop at a few places, starting with my place of employment, Bloomington City Hall, to gather some information. Next, I go to see a few associates who have items that will help me put my plan in motion. Then, I make my final stop at Guraldi’s for the town’s famous cheesecake for a special someone to help with my plan.

After a long day of getting things together for the plan, day turns to evening as I arrive in the Park Ridge section of Bloomington. I park near a one-floor brown-and-white bungalow. Looking at the lit windows of the house gives me the assurance to invite myself in. I walk up the stairs to the front door of the house, pressing the security doorbell. A few seconds later, a flash of light from the doorbell glares at me.

“Bryce, what are you doing here? How do you know where I live?”

I move my face closer to the camera to be heard.

“I’m so sorry, Randall. I know this looks a little ... stalkerish ...”

“Stalkerish?” Randall cries in sarcasm. “You think?”

“Please, I’m sorry. I just needed someone to talk to. I told your secretary it was an emergency, and she gave me your address.”

I wait in silence for a few seconds for Randall’s response.

“Please, Randall. I’m deeply sorry for imposing on you like this. You probably guessed that I don’t have many friends.”

“Hmmm ...”

“Anyway ... I brought a surprise.” I hold the Guraldi’s bakery box up to the camera to show him. “What do you say, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal?”

The glaring light turns off. I wait a few more seconds till finally, the front door opens. Randall appears.

“You con artist bitch! Guraldi’s of all places?”

“Ready for a Golden Girls moment?” I ask with confidence.

Thirty minutes in, we’re in Randall’s kitchen, sitting at the dining table with both of our plates with a half-eaten cheesecake in the center. Being diabetic, I ordered low-sugar cookies. As Randall devours the cheesecake in silence, I’m assuming he’s listening to me tell my history with Rob.

“So, what is it about this Max guy that you and apparently Rob is going goo-goo gaga for? I mean, he’s okay-looking, I guess if you’re into the GQ pretty-boy model type,” I snarl.

Judging by the sudden scowl on Randall’s face, I might’ve triggered a nerve in him.

“Max is one of the classiest and smartest people I know,” he counters. “He has a good heart and a presence that many are drawn to. I could see why Rob would fall for him.”

“If you say so.”

“Look, Bryce, I’m start --”

Randall looks down while placing his hand on his forehead to keep himself up.

“Randall, are you okay?”

He tries to stand up, but the drowsiness causes him to fall on the floor with his chair. I get up to slowly approach him. He’s lying there, trying his best to rock his body to stay awake. I lean forward to check on him.

“Randall, you okay, buddy?

“You mother ...” Randall slurs.”

Randall falls asleep.