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Davis
Pulling the truck against the curb, I put it into park but leave the engine idling.
I need to delay this for as long as I can, given my current mood. The few hours of sleep I was able to catch last night have left me grouchy and wishing I’d have made excuses to my mom not to come over today.
If I’d been smashed, I wouldn’t be dealing with an insomnia hangover. But my taste for the bottle has waned considerably over the past few weeks, which is surprising. I assumed I’d been on an easy course toward full-blown alcoholism. Shockingly, that has changed, which is why I’m now having to psych myself up to face my family in my sleep deprived state.
I can’t pinpoint the change exactly or why my thirst for the bottle has lessened. Hell, there’ve been a lot of changes I’ve noticed about myself in the past few months. Putting my foot down with Chantal was the first in my lame attempt to get a handle on my life. Running on a consistent basis has been another positive step forward. Befriending Merrick hasn’t exactly hurt either.
We’re opposites, he and I, and yet we seem to get along pretty well. I’ve gotten used to having a partner to run with now, which is surprising. The hum-drum work week now ends with something I look forward to, something I find that I’m enjoying….. a lot. Our mid-week chats over beers are pretty cool too.
This out-of-nowhere friendship befuddles me at times. I sure as hell wasn’t looking for it. And even though I protested initially, clearly it was something I needed. I’ve gone on for so many years never expecting to have anyone to rely on. Confide in. Trust. For so long I assumed I deserved that. I deserved to be alone all the time. I deserved to have nothing to call my own.
Not that Merrick is my own. That’s just dumb. I know he has other friends, friends he’s closer to than me. Especially Aiden, who seems like a pretty decent guy. I sometimes wonder how their friendship differs from the one I have with him. It’s not like we tell our deepest, darkest secrets to one another. Other than the little background information he’s given me, I don’t know a lot about the guy.
Maybe if I opened my big fat mouth and asked questions once in a while, that might change. However, it’s not as if Merrick is drilling me for personal information when we hang out and eat together or watch TV. In a way, he’s as closed off as I am, and I suppose that’s part of why we get along. We accept the parts of one another that others might not. We have a comradery that’s built solely on doing simple, every-day things together and not on the inquisitions that are a normal part of having a relationship with someone. Or so I’ve heard.
“Relationship?” I mutter to myself, turning the ignition off and scratching the scruff on my chin. Merrick and I don’t have arelationship, we are friends. Sort of. We’re not good friends or close friends, at least in my opinion we aren’t. We do spend a lot of time together, and we do enjoy doing some of the same things, but there’s a long way to go before he’d ever consider me agoodfriend.
Why the hell am I suddenly questioning this, and him? Is this somethingnormalpeople do when they grow close with someone? How the hell would I even know? The only person I’ve ever been close to is Chantal. And we all know how badly that bit me in the ass.
I’m overthinking this. I’ve gone along same as always for years now, so it’s normal that I would question all the changes in my life. Right?
A knock on the passenger window startles me out of my inner musing. I look over to see my younger brother Grady smirking at me like he knows something I don’t. “You coming?” he hollers.
With a nod, I let myself out of the truck and pocket the keys, shoving all the unsettling thoughts aside for now as I join my brother. “Hey.”
He chuckles, walking next to me as we make our way to the front door. “Hey yourself, big brother. You were doing some heavy mind lifting there. You okay?”
“I’m good.”
In my opinion, Grady and I are as close as two brothers can be, or at least as close as we’ll allow one another to be. We rarely tell each other stuff in confidence and mostly we just give one another a hard time. He tried to be there for me when my life first fell apart and I couldn’t even get out of bed without collapsing with grief. He tried… but I didn’t let him. I didn’t let anyone help me. In that moment I shut everyone out, including Chantal, although she wasn’t exactly reaching out for me either. I shut off my head and my heart to the few important people in my life and willingly allowed the grief to eat me alive.
I’m not sure I really like this person I’ve become.
Wincing at the stark inner-reflection, I dig in deep and make an effort to try harder. “How are you?”
Grady’s eyes widen, blinking in shock at my out of the blue question. “Uh…I’m fine.” He frowns and leans in closer, looking at my face like he’s searching for buried treasure. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
I give him a hard shove and reach for the front door. “Knock it off, asshole.”
We enter the house laughing at one another and instantly our little sister Vicky tries to get in on it all. “What’s so funny? And why are you two laughing? You guys never laugh together, and Davis never laughs. Period.”
That statement alone shows exactly how pathetic my life has become. She’s right. I don’t laugh with either of them, or with anyone else for that matter. We aren’t and never have been the type of touchy-feely family who laughs openly or is affectionate. We don’t hug often, and I can’t remember the last time I told my mom I love her. I doubt I’ve ever told either of my siblings that either. We love one another, but it’s not something we ever talk about. It’s just a given, I suppose.
An ache settles in my chest at this eye-opening realization. For some unknown reason, I’m picking apart every aspect of my life and seeing all the faults. I see how much has been missing in my life for years now and how I’ve always kept a distance between myself and those I profess to love. Given that, it’s really no surprise that I would have married someone like Chantal. Although she warms considerably when she gets to know you, her family dynamic is more closed off than my own. Knowing that, what kind of parents would we have been? Would we have raised Charlotte—and any other children we decided to have—similarly? Without a doubt, I can say for certain that we’d have only been creating a new generation of walled off, unemotional, and unaffectionate people.
Suddenly, I feel sick. Very, very sick.
For all the things I once imagined in Charlotte’s life, I never considered that she was going to be raised by two such emotionally closed off people as myself and Chantal. What would that life had been like for her? Would she have grown up like her mom, constantly looking down her nose at others? Would she have shut people out and refused to make close friendships, much as I have done?
Oh my God….am I actually beginning to think her death was a good thing?
“Hey man, you okay?” Grady catches me when I sway uneasily on my feet, shoving me down into the nearest chair. Ma joins us just then and her worried eyes look me over from head to toe, trying to determine what’s wrong with me.
What the helliswrong with me? This life I’ve been living—while miserable—was at least predictable. Uneventful.
Safe.
