Miles From Nowhere
by Whakum

Prologue
    5:00.  My alarm alarums through the house.  I slam my hand onto the wretched thing and force it to shut off.  I haul myself out of bed and prepare for school.  As I board the bus, the gray day reminds me of the happier times of ages past.

Chapter 3
    "Simply put, I rattled off everything I know about my friend in New York.  Judging by your reaction, it seems to match you exactly.  What this means is that I apparently bridged a gap between two realities."
    "You flew through a rip in the Trousers of Time?"
    "See?  I knew you'd be able to explain it," I said smugly.
    "Whenever we make a decision, a new reality forms for each possible decision we could make.  Those realities branch off into separate universes, and since each one is one possible decision made by one person, there are theoretically millions of universes out there.  They're all the same distance away, and so they're everywhere and nowhere at the same time."
    "You know, I actually understood that.  So I bridged between two of these realities, and that explains why by some freakish coincidence you now live in my house, do all the same things you did in my reality, and have the exact same art style.  Your screen name is different because you never got involved with the website that gave you that alias.  In fact, I'll bet you twenty bucks that the website doesn't even exist."
   "As nice as all this sounds, the Trousers of Time are purely hypothetical.  They don't exist, and neither should you."
    "I'm here, aren't I?"
    "This is preposterous!  How do I know you're not some deranged lunatic?  You're pulling an--an elaborate hoax for some bizarre reason beyond my comprehension."
    "Why would I waste my valuable time with something that incredibly futile if you're smart enough to figure it out?  I wouldn't pull a hoax on the woman who used to be my best friend."
    "I don't know!  I just got back from school!  I don't need this!"
    "Okay, fine.  We'll take this up after dinner.  Deal?"
    "I don't normally eat dinner."
    "Forget that!" I said sharply.  "Tonight, you eat a well-prepared meal, courtesy of my ample culinary expertise."
    "Nice offer, but I don't have much in terms of ingredients."
   "Twenty bucks in my capable hands will have you eating like a queen."

Chapter 4
    She gave me the cash, and I walked up to Kroger.  Kroger isn't the best of supermarkets, but it has a very convenient location about five blocks from my house, and it didn't seem to be affected.  Neither had the prices; exorbitant but better than nothing.  Twenty minutes later I left the store carrying two shopping bags, thirty-one cents in change, and a very serious hope that Jessica owned a frying pan.  Fortunately, she did: it was cast-iron, lumpy, and had a teddy bear shaped potholder on the handle.  I took one look at the thing, set it on the burner, and started its laborious preheating.  Meanwhile, I quickly whipped up a batch of raspberry muffins, stashing them in the oven when the thing was warm enough.  I tested the pan, found it barely hot, and sliced up a fruit salad.  I then scrambled through the various cupboards, only to find that Jessica was lacking several of nature's basic necessities, like a spatula and a cutting board.  I set the fruit in the fridge and prepped the chicken, improvising a cutting board with the Styrofoam the chicken came in.  I sliced the bird up, dredged it in the flour, and set the coated pieces on a small plate.  I sprinkled water on the frying pan; and it had yet to finish heating. I flipped the oven to 400* to preheat.  Leaving the chicken, I got out a mixing bowl and mixed up some raspberry muffins.  I tested the frying pan again, to find it almost ready.  I hastily dumped the muffin batter into a pan and shoved them into the heated oven. I looked around for the toppings for the chicken.  I had the lemons, but being a minor, I had no access to wine.  I haphazardly peered into the fridge to discover a half-empty bottle of White Zinfandel.  It didn't appear contaminated or too ancient for use, so I popped the cork and doused the chicken.  I flipped the bird pieces with a pair of salad tongs, sat back, and waited.
    I cautiously poked my head around the corner into Jessica's room.  She lay on her bed reading.  "Jessica," I said softly, "Dinner is served."
    "Oh, okay," she said, looking up.  She closed her book, sliding a sheet of paper in as a bookmark.  "What've you got?"
    She followed me downstairs slowly.  "Oh, my lord.  You've outdone most restaurants."
    "Ah, stop, you're embarrassing me." I chuckled.  "Now let's eat before it gets cold."  Suddenly the power died.
    "At least it wasn't while I was cooking," I said after a few seconds of shocked silence, "That would be a real downer.  Not to mention a waste of food.  Got any candles?"  Muffled noises similar to opening a cupboard came from down the hallway.  There was a small thunk, and more muffled noises, this time sounding like curses.  A small glow appeared from around the corner, accompanied by the hissing of burning sulfur.  Jessica walked into the room, carrying a candle in her hand.  In the other she carried a tarnished silver candle holder.
    "I rarely use this stuff any more.  I don't usually have much chance to entertain social company in a formal setting these days.  I inherited them from my grandmother."
    "At least we can see to eat.  Hey, I just realized something..."
    "What?"
    "It's a candlelight dinner.  How romantic."
    Jessica sighed glumly.  There was no more conversation that evening.

Chapter 5
   I slept on the couch that night, in my clothes, wrapped in spare sheets.  I dreamt of my parents calling out to me, begging me to return.  I woke up in a cold sweat at what my watch told me was 3:27 AM, and was unable to sleep again.  I made pancakes using the skillet that morning.  The power had come back on after I had woken up, so I silently wandered fixing clocks.  I pulled out a hardcover novel from my backpack and started reading.  About a hundred pages later, Jessica wandered in, rubbing one eye groggily.  She yawned, and stretched her arms back behind her head.  "What time is it?"  I looked up, slightly startled.
    I checked my watch.  "9:37."
    "Good thing it's Saturday, then.  Why is my alarm clock blinking when the rest aren't?"
    "I couldn't sleep, so I reset all of these.  I didn't want to invade your privacy, so I left you alone."
    "Thanks," she said, grinning, "I needed the sleep."
    "Don't mention it.  I was just being cautious."
    "You know, you might just be a good person to have around.  Not only do you have phenomenal cooking skills, you're incredibly courteous and well-behaved."
    "Any other superlatives you wish to add to the list?" I asked, grinning.
    "Well, you're not too hard on the eyes..."  For that comment I threw a sofa pillow at her, laughing.
    I cooked some pancakes using the frying pan.  We sat around for an hour or so watching old Bugs Bunny cartoons before I made a decision.  "I need to get out!"
    "Okay," Jessica said, "Where do you want to go?"
    "I don't know!  I just need to do something!  Normally I'd cook, but..." I drifted off.  "Okay.  Let's go get you some good pans."
    "What?  Why?"
    "If I'm going to stay here for any length of time I'll need either a bike or some pans.  Bikes are expensive.  Pans are not quite so expensive.  Your choice."
    "Fine, fine."  Ten minutes later we were both dressed and backing out of her garage.

Chapter 6
   We got back with a new set of Calphalon pans in the trunk of Jessica's convertible.  Calphalon is the highest quality brand of pan available without access to heavy industrial equipment.  Not only are they the best, they come with lifetime warranties.  As I lugged the things in and tried to store them, something came into my mind.  "Hey Jessica, how can you afford all this stuff if you're a college student?  Nice house, convertible, broadband internet access..."
    "Oh, I got a large inheritance when one of my relatives died. I've got enough stashed away to live comfortably for a while as long as I keep up my part-time job.  You know," she said, looking at me, "you're pretty strange."
    "What do you mean by that?"
    "Something just clashes.  It's probably the fact that every guy I've ever met has been a jerk, and you're so nice."
    "Or that I like to cook.  Most guys just like to eat.  I like to eat too, but I grew up in a house where the hamburgers were actually more like charcoal than food, so I learned to fend for myself fast."
    Jessica laughed, a light, musical sound.  "No," She said, "It's not that.  I don't know what it is, really.  I can't put my finger on it."
    "Well, that's okay.  I've been called a lot worse than 'Different.'  In fact, I think I'll take it as a compliment."
    As is obvious, I was resigned to my fate.  Life could have been worse for me than it was.  And the way I saw it, I didn't really have a choice.  Sure, I hadn't had more than six hours of sleep in the past 36 hours, but that wasn't getting me down.  I had cooking utensils, and I was content.  Until we finished dragging the pans inside the house and Jessica checked the answering machine.
    "Hey, someone actually called!  Let's see who it is..."  The traditional electronically produced monotone sounded from the speakers.
    "You have one new message.  Message one." Beep.  A man's voice, moderately deep, came on.
    "Hey Jess, it's me.  Wanna do something tonight?  My roomie's kicking me out to throw a party.  Gimme a call back.  Love you."

Chapter 7
    'Sounds like a sleazy, uncultured collegiate slob,' I thought.  In my mind's eye I pictured a 5'9", broad-shouldered football player with greasy and unkempt black hair and a face that hadn't shaved for three days.  I shook the image from my mind.  "Your boyfriend?" I asked, stating the obvious for the benefit of the record.
    "Uh...yeah..." she said, rubbing her forehead.
    I stepped over to her.  "Let me guess.  You're wondering how you're going to explain me to him."
    Jessica sighed.  "Any ideas?"
    Being a man of many talents, it didn't take me long to come up with a plan.  "I'm an exchange student from Canada.  You thought it would be interesting to have me stay with you, so I'm staying here for the time being."
    "What would I do without you?"
    "Eat take-out," I said.  Jessica laughed her musical laugh again, hugging me around my chest.  Being four inches shorter than me, she was laughing into my shoulder.  After she got it out of her, she let go, turning away and blushing slightly at her actions.
    "Hehehe...Are you really going to cook for us?"
    "Of course!  I need to test out those pans.  The question is, what do you want?"
    "Oh, I don't know.  Jerry likes seafood."
    "Okay, let me think..."  I grinned.  "Let's go get some scallops."
    "Potatoes?"
    "No, sea scallops.  Very tender, very easy to prepare, which is good since I'm not a big fan of seafood myself.  You guys can have the scallops and I'll just have the leftover chicken and stay out of sight."
    The scallops wound up costing about thirty dollars to prepare.  I sautéed them because I love frying pans, and then drizzled lemon juice over top of them as they cooked.  I served them with some short-grain rice and some fresh rolls.  Jessica had called her boyfriend and invited him over at 6:00.  I yanked the rolls out of the oven at 5:55, microwaved my own dinner, and scampered away.  I ate upstairs and listened for Jerry, who arrived promptly at 6:15.  The rolls were quite cold.

Chapter 8

    I sat by the window and read. I saw headlights approach through the dusk and watched them turn into the driveway. A man stepped out of the driver's side of the car. I stuck my head out, risking a look to watch him as he came in. He was, as far as I could tell, 5'9", broad-shouldered, with unkempt black hair and a face that hadn't seen a razor for three days. Furthermore, he was wearing a varsity jacket with a large football on the sleeve. Why did I always have to be right?
    Jessica leaped up and wrapped herself around him. So this was Jerry. Fortunately, Jerry had a big, booming voice, so I could hear everything he said. They laughed, and Jessica pulled him off down the hallway toward the dining room. This irked me. I was no longer able to see them, but I could certainly hear them. The house was dead quiet, save their voices.
    "Hey Jess, what's with the meal? It looks expensive."
    "Oh, uh...a friend made it for me."
    "Really? You've got good friends. Dis looks delicious!" Jerry's voice was starting to get on my nerves. His speech was slightly slurred. "Got anything to drink?"
    "Sure." I heard Jessica pour some liquid into a glass. "Here."
    There was a pause. "Aah. Much better." A longer pause, presumably as they ate. More sloshing. More of a pause. More sloshing. Lots more sloshing. 'Jerry must be pretty sloshed by now,' I thought. I was right.
    "Jerry," I heard Jessica say, "We need to talk."
    "Yea? Wasshoo wan?" Jerry sounded halfway to dreamland.
    "I...I want to break up with you." Said Jessica, her voice cracking slightly. "You're not the person I knew any  more."
    "Wha? Wha's 'at? You tink you can talk to me like dat?" Jerry's voice rose in a hideous crescendo. I heard a sharp crack of flesh on flesh. "I ain't gonna let you talk to me like dat!"
    My soul was filled with rage at Jerry's acts. I made up my mind and made possibly the wisest decision of my life. I rushed downstairs to the sound of shattering glass. Jessica was crying, tears streaming down her face. Jerry's back was turned to me. I picked up the cast-iron skillet I had used for dinner, and lifted it on high. But somewhere in Jerry's skull two neurons floated through the alcohol and connected. He turned, and caught the skillet before I could swing it down. I released it quickly and rushed to Jessica's side. The skillet clattered to the floor as I wrapped my arm around Jessica, who was clutching her cheek and weeping. She turned toward me and sobbed into my shoulder. I glared at Jerry.
    "You have two options. Leave, or stay. Leave, sleep off the liquor, and never come back. Stay, and," I reached behind me and grabbed the cordless phone, "I call 9-1-1."
    "Oo are you to talk to me like dat? Do you know 'oo I am?"
    "I know all I need to know about you. You've done enough damage. Get out. Now." Jerry's neurons connected again, and after a few seconds his eyes widened, and as Jessica sobbed and clutched at me, he turned and walked slowly out the door. I watched his headlights turn on, and he drove slowly off into the night. I walked Jessica up into her bedroom, and shut the door behind us.