Face up in bed, Walker disinterestedly trims the ends of the hairs covering his eyes. He lets out a deep ‘hmm,‘ Otis turns over on the floor, half underneath his covers, not necessarily trying to fall back asleep but more so trying to not start his day. They both awoke with similar problems on a late September day. Hungover and fatigued, Walker makes multiple attempts to get Otis’ attention, throwing in a “hey” and a “get up” here and there. Otis makes a sharp rotation facing Walker, motions the mini-fridge open and pulls a water bottle to his hand. He drinks only 4 ounces and watches Walker get up & put a shirt on, still from the floor.
They make slow conversation about how “crazy” last night was, only really mentioning about three different details. The tone shifted when Otis brings up a long-gone memory similar to one from last night, a memory involving Roman and the amount of trouble a trio can cause in Vegas. They both smile, but the kind of smile that keeps you quiet for more than one moment. Roman’s bed is still in his corner of the room, same side as Walker, opposite of Otis, the shadow of his presence is still felt in that half. Apart from the couple times Blaine or Heather has crashed on that mattress, Roman’s portion of the room has remained relatively untouched for the 4 months he’s been gone.
Walker admits to Otis he’s become less and less interested in going out every night that they don’t have any previous engagements. Otis is unsure if he’s happy to agree as he finishes rolling a blunt of Walker’s weed. The truth is that neither of them are sure what to do, they’ve been tag-teaming their uses of time together but have hit a wall recently, considering all they’ve really done is go party on the Strip, seek sexual interactions, and stay inside during the day. They step through the room’s sliding door out onto the patio, Walker’s eight pots of marijuana plants are up against the wall behind the four chairs, and on the side are two pots with dead flowers.
“I bet Romans been having a lot of fun since he left,” Walker says to Otis as he lights up the L, “I think that’s the reason why he left in the first place.” Otis forces out with a mouth full of smoke, “He always talked about ‘wanting to do other things,’ remember when he used to say that shit? ‘I want to do other things,’ he was always tryna soul search and shit, nah mean?” They both smile and push air out of their noses instead of laughing.
Walker realizes that Roman was bored too, just like he is now. It’s been almost half a year since him and Ivy stopped their relationship. His newly-single-vision was wearing off and he’s starting to see the truth that he is not doing one particular thing that makes him truly satisfied. This breezy late summer morning (it’s actually 3:24 P.M. but that’s morning for these two) was a brief hour or so of clarity for Walker. A type of clear conscious where Walker quickly reminisces on all that he’s lost, but with a sense of needing to move on to something else.
Otis is bored as well, but in a more blinding and terrified manner. He’s always been keenly aware of the type of power he holds onto, granted, reticently. However, out of all the guys in the house, he’s wrongly convinced himself to be the only one that seems unsure of what to make of his gifts. Otis thinks of Quinn and Noah, primarily about the success they are having applying themselves to this human world; Otis takes another drag and passes it to Walker with no intention of getting it back.
Familiar thoughts of fear figuratively circle in his head, but physically feels like his brain is spinning. What if he’ll never do anything worthwhile with his life, what if he just completely throws this opportunity away? He would disappoint every roommate in the house as well as those who used to be in his life, god forbid, if they knew what he was pissing away. Everyone around him is building a life how they want to, but not him. He never deserved any of this, he’s a waste.
Otis quickly jolts his head to the side and throws up next to the dead flowers. After a
wide-eyed Walker asking “you good bro?” and a no longer hungover Otis replying “yeah,” Walker gets a couple water bottles and tosses it to the guy who’s unable to catch it. 4 minutes of nothing happens until Otis goes back inside the room and passes out. Walker is higher than he is upset about having to clean up the mess. Hosing down a mixture of tequila & diner food, Walker is still in his head dwelling on the feeling that there was supposed to be more change in his life, at least something closer to what he imagined almost two years ago. He notices his feelings change from this disenchanted confusion to that of a demanding activist. He was not the first or the last from that bedroom to have had enough of their own shit.
Spraying Otis’ vomit as best he can, Walker glances down at the wilted yellow tulips, a would-be birthday present for Ivy, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually gift them to her after the breakup. Seeing the stems & petals now as a symbol of sorts as their romantic involvement with each other is dead and withered away. He timidly waves his palm over the flowers, reviving them halfway before stopping. He lets out a smile and finishes the job at hand.
Otis comes to at sunset, sundown by the time he’s up and moving. He’s alone and it’s quiet, he thinks Walker must have gone out. Otis stumbles to the kitchen, almost as dark and silent as the bedroom, save for the TV. Dove is laying on the couch watching “Current Trending Streaming Service’s Original TV Show.” Otis joins her without warning, bearing a lengthy clear bag of kettle corn & a family-sized carton of apple juice.
“Hey, Otey.” “What’s good, Dove, what episode you on?” “This is season 2, third episode, but this season sucks-they’re just doing the same thing they did last year.” Otis would’ve then asked why are you watching it, but instead he went for the apple juice, knowing she would have responded, “Because it’s entertaining to watch.” “Want some?” Otis asked leaning the top of the bag of kettle corn towards Dove. “No, I’m okay.” Otis lays back on the other leg of the black sectional, eats half the bag and finishes the juice. Two episodes have gone by, Otis has checked his phone a dozen times, Dove even more, she’s screamed out reactions to the TV twice, and only once has another person entered the living room/kitchen area behind them (Ivy, who grabbed a bottle of Pink Moscato and two glasses then went back to her room).
Otis looks over at Dove, still snuggled horizontally underneath a weighted blanket, he looks away then back again. Brazenly, Otis gestures his hand to move the blanket off Dove then throws it over himself. Dove darts up, standing on her knees, mouth open in disgust. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she asks at a volume Otis has never heard from her before. Otis stares back expressionless for a moment, then lifts up the side of the blanket closest to Dove, and nods his head, motioning her to lay next to him. She closes her mouth and rolls her eyes. She gets on her feet before looking down at him with her eyebrows furrowed. Otis gives her a tongue-in-cheek “ugh, come on”, when Dove buries herself back under the cover. Episode six ends, leaving the room hushed. “You are fucking kidding me,” muttered with a hint of her grainy laughter.
Within the minute, both receive a head rush that each have gone through in several instances since everyone moved in the house. They experience visions of their predecessors laid up together in a field, looking up at the stars, feelings of a similar first-time situation as Otis and Dove. Although in reality they lasted no more than 10 seconds, the apparitions trapped their minds for what they perceived to be minutes, flashing images of their past selves laughing with a friendly togetherness, expressing sentiments of the beginning of something important, lives before them but presently with them.
Immediately following the return to the real world, the usual sensation of euphoria persists, a complete oneness with the moment. Otis, smiling, says to Dove lowly, “well that was interesting.” “We’re not them, Otey, we are us.” Dove sits up resting her back against the couch. Still with his head on a pillow looking up at Dove, Otis can’t help but laugh while saying, “But they are us, you can’t just choose when we are or aren’t the same people, what about when you said that you & Sabrina are supposed to be best friends?” With a counterfeit laugh back and a sarcastic tone, Dove responds, “Well that’s because her and I happen to get along just like they did, you on the other hand are nothing like your ancestor, he looks nice.” Otis throws his arms up in disagreement, “You don’t know anything about him, plus they were getting along just fine, face it Dovey, doesn’t matter which generation-you think I’m funny.” He pulls the bag of kettle corn to him. She carries a playful sassy face when she tells him, “Whatever, there’s no way that guy is a slut like you, always getting fucked up and bringing random girls home with you.”
An obvious low-blow, Otis defensively retorts while Dove stays cheeky,
“I do not do that anymore.”
“You and Walker definitely went out last night.”
“But I didn’t bring no girl home.”
“Wow, congrats.”
There’s a sad pride in Otis’s voice,
“Okay well, I don’t want to anymore, me and Walker just talked about that shit this morning, I’m over all that.”
Dove with a genuine curiosity,
“Why? Like what did you guys talk about?”
“I don’t know, going out is just, always the same, Walker felt like we we’re wasting our time, talked about Roman being the same way, like, why he left.”
Dove maintains her eyes at Otis’, he’s already looked away holding the still-twisted bag.
“Okay so what about you, how do you feel?”
“Well I don’t feel like leaving, just like — I’m not sure, I don’t really care.”
“Otis, come on what’s going on?”
“I mean, fuck okay. First Roman dipped, then the vibes we’re all off with me and Walker when we went out, and now Walker is all, you know, trying to find himself and shit, he’s been talking bout it for a while.”
She moves her hand toward him, looking back and forth from his eyes and his right hand.
“Can I?”
Otis whispers a deflated, “Yeah.”
Dove lays her hand on his and closes her eyes.
“We’re all changing Otey, everyone is trying to figure out for themselves what’s happening, I’m seeing how you feel about Walker, you know, but you’re not alone in this house.”
Otis starts speaking with his chest and his arms, removing contact with Dove’s hand.
“Dove, I am alone, I’m not changing, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. If you want to remove my feelings or put shit in me, whatever, it won’t do anything because I’m still not going to know my life, I don’t see the people before me like some of you guys do.”
It’s reached a point in the conversation where silence becomes more felt. Dove doesn’t respond for a moment. She slowly reaches her hand back out to him while saying softly,
“Fate is real now, Otey, we’re not living our lives anymore, we just see what happens. I can help you enjoy it, and! If you’re not sure what’s, like, in store for you, we can go out and try together! Who knows what the guys before you did with their powers, but this is still real life, it’s not magic.”
Dove smiles and Otis remains quiet, although much stiller than a minute ago. He looks up at her and nods his head slightly side-to-side signifying agreement. Before he gets to tell her thanks, they’re interrupted by the sounds of shoes clicking on tiles and loud conversation from the hallway. As it draws nearer, Dove and Otis turn around to look, Walker and Emilia come into the kitchen and set down plastic bags on the dining table. Otis gives them a “what’s up” and Walker happily greets both of them.
“Just leave those there, we can plant those seeds tomorrow” Emilia says to Walker, “let’s go talk what you’ll do for me in return.” She grabs Walker’s hand and drags him into the hallway, the last audible words Otis and Dove able to hear being, “Well Emilia, I just want to get the garden going first, can we just go into my room instead, she’s in th…
I Hate The Real Me 