Since she was on campus, Lisa thought she’d ask the asshole in person. He’d been missing for a few days, and she might like to see her worst enemy in person again. She knocked on his door, and he didn’t answer, like he hadn’t answered the past few days she’d been checking on him to make sure he wasn’t in the process of killing himself. She knocked again, and again he didn’t answer. She thought nothing of pulling out the key his mother gave her and opening the door, like she did whenever he didn’t answer. She would never forgive herself if he was successful, but she couldn’t sit with him every hour of the day, especially with his sleep schedule. Maybe when he got back, her boyfriend could take a couple of shifts.
The door swung open, and when she saw the asshole, he was scrambling, and he straightened out with his hands behind his back. He wasn’t wearing his ratty-ass cardigan, and he liked baggy clothes, so the sight of him in a yummy black T-shirt (did she just think of the asshole as yummy? Ew!) looked so good you could forget he was a walking skeleton.
“Oh, hi, Lisa! Why are you breaking into my dorm room? I know you have a key, but you can’t—”
“Sean,” she snapped, “I’ve been worried sick about you. I promised your mother that I would protect you, and she meant from yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied, “I’m fine. I stayed in a hotel for a couple of days.”
“Why is your hand behind your back, Sean?”
“It’s like that military thing,” the asshole said. “You know, at ease?”
“Let me see your hands, Sean.”
He raised his left hand to shoulder level. “See?”
She breathed in and out and growled. “I want to see your other hand too.”
He started to return his left hand to its at-ease position when Lisa pounced. She grabbed his left arm and twisted it behind his back while slamming him against the wall. He coughed. “Now use your words.”
She peeled him off the wall and slammed him again.
“Safe word!” he groaned.
Now that she had him where she wanted him, she could focus on what he was holding. Was it a bottle of pills? A sharp knife again? A fucking gun? She emptied his hand, and it was not any of those things. It was a thick, round disk about the size of her palm. The disc was split down the middle on the narrow side. In the center was a wound-up slip of string. “Is this?” she demanded. “A fucking yo-yo?”
He sat down on his bed and hung his head. “I didn’t want anybody to see me like this.”
“How long do you think you could hide this from us?”
“Why do you think I disappeared to a hotel this past few days?” he said. “I just wanted to try it out.”
She sat next to him and put a hand on his knee. “Look, Sean,” she said with a sign. “Just because you’re curious about yo-yos doesn’t make you a bad person. Everyone experiments with yo-yos at some point in their life.”
“Really?” he sniffed, finally looking up. “I thought it was just me.
“I know how you feel. I used a yo-yo when I was younger. But I’m okay now,” she told him. “You will be too.” With the hand that wasn’t on his knee, she held his. “We’re going to get through this together.”
He put his head on her shoulder.
She held the accursed thing directly in front of his eyes. “Now tell me, where did you get this? Who taught you how to use this thing?”
“It’s going to be okay, Sean,” she cooed soothingly. “Do you trust me?”
“YouTube tutorials, mostly,” he replied. “As for how I got it, I was walking by a toy store, and in a fit of whimsy, I went inside. Toward the back was where the forgotten toys of yesteryear dwell—the wooden bock, the hula hoop, the ball on a string with the cup on the top, you know what I’m talking about. There was this employee using a yo-yo, and I didn’t know what to do. I just kept watching. He seemed so happy. There was no sign of the misery and pain yo-yos cause. I knew that yo-yos came with a price, and I knew I shouldn’t pay it, and I know a bunch of tricks now. Would I do it again? I don’t have the answers. I know I can’t keep living like this.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course not,” he replied. “You’re a succubus.”
She smiled weakly. “Then it’s not going to be okay.”
He smiled back.
They turned to each other again, and once again, she was alarmed at how close they were. Lisa couldn’t figure out where this was coming from. Why was her heart rate increasing exponentially? Why was her mouth so dry? Why were her palms sweating? Did she get covid?
The asshole quickly looked away and sprang to his feet.
Her heart immediately began to slow down. She had no idea what was causing this. “You said you picked up some tricks.”
“Why do you think I spent three days in yo-yo boot camp?”
He dropped the yo-yo until it reached the end of its string, and it hung there, until it returned to his hand with a snap of the wrist. “Sleeper.”
“That’s just yo-yoing in slow motion. I want to see more advanced tricks.”
“Check it out. Walk the dog. Elevator. Cradle. Those are basic tricks. One I could never get ahold of is the loopty-loop.”
“Try it,” she demanded.
He tossed the yo-yo, pulled it back, and didn’t catch it when it wound back up the second time the asshole screamed, “It’s coming back!” and dove to the floor. He forgot that it was attached to him, and Lisa laughed her ass off.