AllFreeNovel
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Me:Plans tonight?
It takes a few minutes before I get a response back.
Tynleigh:Depends. Who's asking?
Me:Just a guy from a bar that'll never look at tequila shots and whipped cream vodka the same again.
Tynleigh:doesn't ring a bell . . .
I smile, shoving a fry in my mouth.
Me:No? Not even that guy that you got well acquainted with during showers this morning?
Tynleigh:Hmm. Still nothing. He must not have been any good. I was probably doing something anyway . . .
Me:Shit. I'm calling your bluff. Go out with me tonight.
Tynleigh:I'm a busy girl.
Me:Clear your schedule.
Tynleigh:You'll have to try harder than that ;)
I lock my phone and toss it on the table, Saxton's judgmental ass already glued to me. "Not a fucking word."
He stands, his plate mostly empty and his beer almost gone, tossing a bill down on the table; two steps later stopping at my side. "Think outside the box with this one or you'll be disappointed. I have to go meet Kambry. I'll catch you later."
He walks off, leaving me to the food and my thoughts. Think outside of the box. What does that even fucking mean when it comes to girls? I've had a pretty easy strategy that's worked my entire life. Maybe I just need sleep and a re-wire. Then, everything will fall into place.
* * *
I waketo sounds of something scraping against glass. Joel is sitting on the edge of the pullout bed, hunkered over the glass coffee table in clothes he normally wears to work, his tie thrown over his shoulder and running down the back of his shirt. I sit up, the afternoon sunlight beaming through the balcony door, my back already propped against the couch with little effort. I know what he's doing before I even look. It’s the same fucking thing he’s always doing. I rub my hand along my short beard, the metal music in the background making it easy to adjust to consciousness. "Did you actually go in to work today or did you just make it into town to score some blow?"
"Shut up, man," he says, his lax entertaining attitude from last night gone. "I'm not in the mood today." All that's left is the shell of a man he is on most days, his shoulder going at it as he cuts the powder fine enough to snort. If I didn't know everything about him I'd swear he was bipolar, his mood changing like the flip of a switch. But he wasn't always this way.
My temporary memory loss is suddenly replaced as I remember what today is. I wasn't here. I've been with him on this day since it fucking happened. "Fuck."
I get up and grab my pack of cigarettes off the side table, coming to sit next to him as I remove one from the pack, holding it in my hand for a few seconds before attempting to light. He lays the razor blade down and bends forward, snorting the line quickly, before wetting his finger and rubbing it along the line of what little powder is left behind, and then rubs it on his gums. "It's not your fault, Joel. It never was."
"Shit," he says, laughter laced within his tone. "I'm the reason she did it to begin with. Don't try to make me feel better. It just makes it worse."
I rub my fingers through the front of my hair, my elbows perched on my knees, before finally placing the filter between my lips and lighting the end. "It was an accident. It happens more than you think. You can't punish yourself forever."
"Only until I'm lying in the dirt with her."
I take a long drag, the stress already spreading through my body like wildfire from the carefree night and morning I had. "So that's your plan? The booze, the drugs, and the women . . . The irresponsible partying . . . You're just going to keep going until your body can't take it anymore? You're playing Russian Roulette with your life."
"It's the only fair way. And suicide is too messy for me."
"Jesus, Joel. Do you think that's what she'd want? Two wrongs don't make a right."
"I think she'd rather have her life back, that's what I think. I took that from her. So until I'm a vegetable like Unc, that's all I can do. Forgetting isn't as easy for me."
"Don't bring my dad into this."
He grabs my pack of cigarettes and takes one for himself, his breathing slow and dramatic until he pulls on the filter and fills his lungs with the poison that we both love so much. His pissed off voice calms. "I'm envious of him, Bryant. That's all. I'm not saying it's easy, but it has to be easier than this. I wish I could forget. I wish for one goddamn second the pain would go away and that she was back in my arms."
His eyes are rimmed in red. He hasn't been to sleep. I should have just come back here last night, but for a slither in time I felt like a normal twenty-six-year-old. For one night I didn't have to be backward, acting as the father in a father and son relationship. I also didn't have to be on alert that suicide is outside the door for someone that's been present my entire life, and the only brother I've ever known. I don't even get to reap the benefits of the responsibility. It's hard to be there for someone when you don't personally know what they're going through. Every phrase seems like bullshit and every action feels robotic.
