May 1, 1998
I was at home alone while my two best friends were at the prom together. A bundle of mixed emotions roiled inside me: I was happy that they were happy together, which was clear for all to see, but at the same time, I was jealous and depressed… and a bit lonely.
I had wanted things to work out happily for Laura but hadn’t pictured my best buddy as the guy she was dating. I wondered if I’d simply waited too long to ask Laura out or if we were simply meant to be just friends. Whichever the case, I’d never had a clear moment when I truly felt I should just throw caution to the wind. Maybe I’d just been too self-absorbed with everything else on my mind. If she had given any signals about wanting to take our relationship to another level, I’d missed them.
Laura and Mike seemed to be long-term-relationship material—not sure how I knew, but I just had that feeling. The old cliché came to mind: if you truly love someone, be willing to set them free. I was trying my best, but it was a struggle.
I watched Alien: Resurrection while trying not to think about Laura and Mike. The flick was kind of lame and left me wanting to rewatch the original two movies instead, each awesome in its own way. They should’ve just left the series at two since none of the sequels looked as if they’d come close to being on par, but where there was the potential for a few bucks to be made, Hollywood was all over it.
After shutting off the VCR once the tape finished rewinding, I instead put on Tool’s Undertow CD. I lay on my bed, nursing a screwdriver I’d made earlier after sneaking some vodka from Mom’s liquor cabinet. A night such as this appealed to the latent drinker in me.
Another few weeks till graduation, then once college starts, I can move on and get a fresh start away from Pinehaven. I won’t have to be third wheel to Laura and Mike all the time… Hell, maybe I’ll meet someone else. Yet I knew that was a long shot. I couldn’t remember much about my original timeline, other than the fact that I hadn’t met anyone who could compare to Laura, by the time I turned twenty-eight. But that was the loser, dropout version of myself. This new and improved Jason would be going to university in the fall. Maybe I’d meet a nice girl and get a good job and eventually do the family thing with the house in the burbs and the two and a half kids or whatever living the dream was all about these days.
I snickered to myself at the thought. “Sober” began playing at that moment, and I ached to get shit-faced. A quarter bottle of vodka remained in the cabinet downstairs, but Mom would notice if I drained the rest of it. I discarded the idea reluctantly.
Instead, I brooded and contemplated the vast gulf of uncharted future before me.