Cut Short

“We have all the time in the world,” Cayenne says, nonchalantly leaning against a shelf of macaroni and cheese. It's basically her catchphrase. She says it all the time. You swallow nervously. You’ve never been able to say no to Cayenne before and you can’t now. She’s a good friend and all but that's not what makes it so hard to say no. There’s something magnetic about her. Nobody can say no. 

At first you were surprised when she began to talk to you. You were sure she was speaking to the non-existent person behind you or perhaps the imaginary voices in her head. Cayenne Peppers (for most people this would be a pretty unfortunate name, but Cayenne makes it work) is the kind of girl no one wants to be enemies with. Untouchable. But even fewer people want to be her friend. She isn’t popular, but she knows everybody. And she is practically the definition of “bad girl”. With choppy, shoulder-length hair and about a million piercings. Her outfit changes daily. Sometimes colorful, sometimes not.

When Cayenne first sat with you at lunch you were ecstatic. And terrified. She asked you lots of questions. But not your name. And you didn’t dare interrupt Cayenne to tell her. 

“So,” she had said. Pushing the vegetables on her plate to the left and the rice to the right. “What are you?”

“W-what,” you stammered.

“Obviously not a druggie (though I wouldn’t blame you, this place does things to a person), so what are you? Jock? Geek?”

“Cool kid isn’t even an option?”

“The fact that you called it ‘cool kid’ tells me no.” You flush but sort of agree with the logic.

“So? What are you?”

“I…well…it's sorta hard to describe your entire existence with one word.” You finally say. Cayenne smirks.

“Hmh. Take your time. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Not really. Class is in five minutes.”

“What do I care? The world is full of meaningless time that you could spend stuck to some nobody’s schedule or you could accept the truth.” You're about to hear Cayenne’s philosophy for the first time. Her reason for everything.

“And what's the truth?”

“People just fill up life with random junk but really, it's free space. So do what you want. We all die someday. We only got the time in this life. So, we gotta use it. And I’m gonna use all of it. All the time in the world.”

Ever since then you’ve wanted to prove that you can be a “cool kid”. At first Cayenne asked you to do little things. Take a piece of chalk. Talk back to a teacher. Little stuff.

But then she asked you to ditch last hour. You did. She told you to not do your final project. So, you didn’t.

And to be perfectly honest it felt…amazing. You felt free as a bird. Away from all the strict rules in your life. But birds can’t fly forever. And you know it's your time to fall.

So here you are. Cayenne is leaning against a Walmart shelf of macaroni and cheese. Grinning at you with that smile. The one that's half a dare and half confidence. The one no one can say no to.

“Come on,” she tells you. “Don’t stress. We’ve got time. It's easy. I do it all the time. Just slip it in your bag. No one will notice.” You nod. Easy. The store employees are helping other customers. There's no one around. It's just one little candy bar. 

It feels like time has stopped for you. Cayenne is staring at you, expectantly. The candy bar is daring you to steal it. After an electric moment you slip it in your bag. Cayenne grins.

“See? Easy. That's the hard part. Now we just have to walk out.”

“Alright. Let’s go,” you say. You walk towards the doors. You wonder if that's really your heartbeat or if a stampede of elephants broke into your chest. Cayenne shoves you with her shoulder.

“Chill out! You’ll give us away. Come on, pretend I told you a really funny joke.”

“Heh.”

Cayenne rolls her eyes. “Nice. You sound like I just tried to choke you. Try again.” You try again. This time it's more in the realm of a laugh but still pretty forced.

“Let's just get this over with,” you say.

“Whatever.” 

You and Cayenne reach the doors. There’s a greeter at the door with a name tag that reads: Shane. Shane looks like he would rather be doing anything else. You know the feeling. You feel a trickle of sweat roll down your back and you swear to yourself that you will never, ever, ever do this again. Why can’t you and Cayenne hang out at movie theaters or something like normal friends? Why did you so desperately want to be friends with her?

“Have a nice day,” Shane says. His eyes skimming over you as you walk by. 

“Why thank you, humble greeter. I’ll sure try,” Cayenne says, winking. Shane glares. You sort of want to join. If you get caught there's no chance Shane will back you up now. 

Cayenne gives you a look that clearly says: Calm down or you’ll blow our cover. You take a few deep breaths and walk out the door. You wait for an alarm to go off or a cop to chase you down or your parents to show up or…

Nothing happens.

“Told’ya we’d be fine,” Cayenne says. Leaning on a pillar this time. You nod. Then you and Cayenne walk to her car and drive away. The candy bar feels like fire in your bag. You want to turn around and give it back. But you don’t.

Cayenne turns right and so you know you're going to her house. Maybe she’ll ask you to sleep over. That's always fun. You remember the first time she asked you to come over for a sleepover.

You were sitting in math class, doodling on your incomplete homework. Your homework was always done before you met Cayenne. She plops down in the seat in front of you. Her choppy hair covers one side of her face.

“I’m bored,” she said. She blows a big bubble of green gum. Sour apple flavored.

“Hm. Me too,” you said. Just to be agreeable.

“Come over tonight. We’ll do something fun. Watch a movie. Make some prank calls, like little kids. You know. Stuff. We got time.” She always “had time”.

“Okay,” you had said. Trying to shrug nonchalantly but failing. “What time?”

“Nine. Don’t be late.”

“Wait, I have a ten-thirty curfew.” You break that curfew many times, later on but at that moment it was important to you.

Cayenne gives you a look. “It's called a sleepover-” she called you a name you're not allowed to say in your home. But at the time it had seemed cool.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Course.” But your insides were partying. Cayenne Peppers wanted you to come over for a sleepover. It had been exciting. And that first time had been really fun. The next time was different. That time was stressful because Cayenne wanted to try and steal her parents' car and go to midnight showing.

“Hey. Hey!” Cayenne says. Tapping you on the shoulder. “What are you thinking about?” You want to say, “I think we should bring the candy back” or “this is a bad idea” or maybe even “I don’t want to be friends anymore.” You don’t. You just shrug.

“Whatever. Ugh, I’m bored.” Cayenne is always bored. “You drive.” And she pulls to the side of the road. You get out of the passenger’s seat and into the driver’s seat. This happens a lot. You wish you could say no.

You drive in silence for a while but inevitably Cayenne breaks it. “Com’n. Go faster! There’s nobody even on the road.”

“I dunno. Someone could sneak up on us. It's a narrow road.”

“Don’t be a buzzkill!” Cayenne gets that glint in her eye that tells you you're about to do something you would normally never do.

“Please,” she says looking at you. Cayenne never says please. You sigh.

“Alright, I guess.”

“Yeeeee-haaa!” You and Cayenne laugh loud and proud. It's fun zipping down the road. You watch the speedometer steadily go up. A little voice in the back of your head tells you to slow down but you haven’t listened to that voice in a long time. Trees and bushes zoom past you. 

“Should we head to your place,” you yell over the sound of Cayenne’s laughter.

“Nah! We got all the time in the world, remember? Enjoy it!” You smile a little because, for whatever reason, the reasons that make you stick to Cayenne like glue, you like that saying more than anything. But it's only a small smile because it scares you too. And honestly you just want to go home.

You push the gas down a little more. Coaxing more speed out of the old car. You're focusing on moving the car in the right direction and keeping Cayenne amused so much that you don’t notice the U-HAUL truck coming up the road. And in all likelihood, you wouldn’t have seen it if you were paying enough attention. And even if you had seen it there would be no way to slow down in time. But you give it a try and slam on the breaks with just a few feet of space between you and the U-HAUL. You take a physics class, so you know it's impossible to slow down fast enough but you try. Gallantly. 

You think you hear Cayenne say something. Maybe it's just a gasp or a sob. But in the deep parts of your brain that aren’t screaming you hope that maybe Cayenne is saying to you, “I hope you’ll be okay” or “Don’t be afraid” or even a simple “Oh no! I’m so sorry!”.

But you just really hope that she isn’t saying, “We have all the time in the world” because maybe Cayenne will. With her invisible smile and her charm. Her looks and persuasion. Her seat on the far side of the car. The seat furthest away from the U-HAUL. The seat with a working airbag. Unlike yours. So maybe it works for Cayenne but not for you. 

And you know that the moment you hit the U-HAUL. Even before the front smashes and your head hits the windshield and your world goes black, and you spend twenty-four hours in a hospital and your parents come to see you knowing it's too late and everyone says it was such a shame you ever even saw Cayenne Peppers.

No, you knew it the moment you saw her at lunch. That maybe she can have all the time in the world. And you want to tell her that maybe it works for her but…

…what's the point of having all the time in the world if it's cut short?

The end.