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Nothing matched the anxiety of driving through town during rush hour. Nothing showed such obvious dread as stuttering through an order for four people at a Taco Bell — hoping — nay, praying, that the person at the cash register understood your words. Nothing was half as embarrassing as getting stares from people all around, knowing they questioned the whole “mask” thing now that mandates were lifted. (It was less to avoid germs and more too… well, stay hidden. It was a part of the everyday look, and everyone knew the everyday look didn’t change.)
But it was a lot more encouragement that Cleo had come along as Etho’s personal cheerleader. (They’d went through the full debate — Etho saying that if Cleo just made the order for him, he’d pay for her meal as well, but she shoved him forward, telling him to grow up and that she could buy her meal herself.)
“You got the list right?”
“Yeah.” He pulled out a piece of crumpled paper with everybody’s orders on it. Despite knowing his own — always getting the same thing, chips and a couple tacos, nothing special — it was written down as well, knowing that he’d blank as soon as asked. “Can’t you do it?”
Cleo gave a hard stare. “No.” She pushed the paper forward to his chest. “You have literally everything you need on there.”
Granted, it was Cleo who wrote it down, as she had forced him to drive — he wouldn’t have done it if anyone else were in the vehicle, but Cleo genuinely wouldn’t let him not do it. But to take Etho’s mind off the anxiety of making each turn correctly and slowing down just enough and staying at an average speed instead of succumbing to the slow right lane, Cleo had him dictate every single word he’d say when they got to Taco Bell.
“If you do mine too, I’ll cover all of them,” Cleo said, knowing it probably wouldn’t make a difference.
And it wouldn’t.
He didn’t mind the cost of food (rather, his parents didn’t or wouldn’t notice the lack of cash — admittedly he still hadn’t gotten the nerve to get a job) and getting it covered for him was no more motivation than before.
Motivation wasn’t added, but instead decreased, by the stare of the person working in front of him — he realized only after about a minute that he was wasting this kind guy’s time — "Bigb" the name tag read.
“Just do it. It’ll be fine. You won’t die. I promise.”
Though, he felt like he could about throw up, which was worse. Far more humiliating than suddenly getting struck down by lighting and falling flat on his face.
“I—uh—” he looked up at the menu, as if it were needed, and then looked back down at his paper. “Two Crunchwrap meals…”
“One without sour cream,” Cleo added before it was, sorryfully, forgotten.
“Yeah, one without.”
“And will that be with a soft taco or hard taco?” The cashier asked.
“Two… uh…” he glanced down at the paper, hoping that it had been specified. It had. For a fraction of a second, Etho sighed, before looking back up to answer. “Hard shelled. Two.”
His hands shook. He was hardly halfway through this, and he was about to pass out. Cleo gripped onto one of his hands, and in another situation, his mind might short-circuit at the action, but it was enough to make his mind freeze and refocus for a second.
“And what will the drinks be with that?”
“Uhm, a Mountain Dew and a Root Beer.”
“Anything else?”
He took another long breath. Cleo squeezed his hand a couple times. It didn’t help much, but what little it did was enough.
“Yeah, I need a uh Chalupa Cravings Box, and uhm, a uh soft taco. With a Sierra Mist.”
On some level, it might be easier to slide the paper across the counter and let this guy punch it in for him.
“And uh, two nachos, two more soft tacos, and a water.”
And the weight was taken off his shoulders as he got to the end of the order and managed to stay alive (surprisingly).
“That’ll be it?”
Etho nodded.
“Here or to-go?”
“Uh, to-go.”
“Name please.”
And again, for some stupid reason, his brain froze up, forgetting everything and it must’ve been over a couple seconds because Cleo stepped in. “Bigb, this is Etho. Etho, Bigb.” She gave a slightly annoyed glance at Bigb. “Just… ring it up for me though. I’ve got something to get too.”
She glanced over at Etho, as he was rummaging through a wallet awkwardly — never having used a credit card before made things difficult on everyone. Her actions may have been out of sympathy or a desire to get out of the Taco Bell quicker — Etho didn’t know at this point. To be fair, he was too caught up in his head to think properly.
“One power bowl, chicken. One Bajha Blast slush. And one order of nachos.”
Bigb rang it all up, giving a total, which Etho became unaware of as he zoned out entirely. With nerves sky high (far too much for just ordering), it was hard not to disassociate.
“Your order will be finished in a minute.”
Cleo dragged him to the side. “I didn’t ever ask for yours,” he mumbled out, eyes now glued to the floor.
“Yeah, but you still ordered, didn’t you? And you don’t want to make yourself to be an idiot, spending five minutes counting quarters. If you’re worried about it, you can pay me back later.” She spoke with no-nonsense, not minding circumstances aside from a bit frustrated at whoever was ringing their order (which Etho knew he was forgetting something because the name sounded so familiar). “Get like, three or four of each sauce. And a bunch of napkins.”
He sort of zoned out the rest of their wait in there, until they got to the car, to which Cleo said she’d take the drive back. “You take a nap or something. I’ll shut up for you.” She forcefully handed him the slushy.
“I ordered water.”
“Yeah, but nobody wants water, idiot.”
“Yeah but what are you—”
“We’re going to Skizz’s. He’ll have something. You know he has a caffeine addiction like no other.” She gave a sharp look. “Take it. And rest up. You’re tired.”
He didn’t fight her on it. Cleo could be intensely stubborn when she desired to be, and it was easier just to accept her ways (and take that nap, because, despite it only being a fifteen minute drive, those fifteen minutes would be gold).
The vehicle was silent aside from some music playing at the lowest volume and the given sounds that came along with being on the road. So it was under nearly perfect conditions to fall asleep to.
What Etho didn’t know was that Cleo took the driving extra slow at times, letting the trip become twenty minutes. She circled the neighborhood a few times just for the fun of it. And admittedly sat with the car running for a minute as they drove up to the house.
“Wake up. We’re here. You can nap more when you get inside.” She put the car in parked and then brought in all the food with help from Impulse, who came to the door right away.
“Hey, you’re finally back,” Skizz said, helping Etho up as the car sat pretty low to the ground and he still hadn’t fully woken up yet. “We picked out a movie for while we eat. And if you guys want, we can get out the board games.” Given Skizz was pretty aware of people’s physical (and mental) states, he also added, “Or you can get some more sleep, buddy. We won’t have too much fun without you.”
With food brought in and everyone settled in on the couch, the lights were dimmed and the tv started, revealing their movie tonight to be Cars. While it could be joked that it was a kids movie and they should be watching more “scary” things, nobody knocked it as an option. It was the filler for the room while eating and playing games anyway.
It just so happened to also be the white noise that had Etho asleep yet again after barely touching his food (and for Tango as well, who was on top of him not ten minutes later).