Obsessive Love Disorder

5

September 27, 1996
Billy

My after school routine has always been consistent — get in my car, drive home, don't do any homework, eat dinner, shower, watch movies until I pass out. Maybe throw in a jerk or a blunt, but that's only if I'm really stressed. I save my stash for special occasions. 

It might seem pathetic or like I'm wasting my life, but what else am I supposed to do? I don't have a job or a girlfriend or any money to blow, it really sucks ass. My problem is that I could acquire those first two very easily, but I don't want to. Nothing and no one in this town are worth my time. 

Today is like every other day. I'm on my way home, some random radio station blasting through my car's speakers to drown out any thoughts. After a day of "education," I don't really want to think right now. 

The driveway to my house is empty, of course. I'm sure my father is off with some client having lunch or something and neglected to tell me... again. But I'm not upset or anything, having him gone and the house to myself is ideal. I'm not doing anything illegal, though, I just like being alone. 

I promise. 

The house is free, as expected, and I take that as an immediate opportunity to swipe some snacks from the kitchen before heading upstairs to my room. 

There's a few horror posters taped to the walls, my sheets are all messed up, and my window is gathering dust. It's perfect. Been that way for almost five years now. The ceiling fan is still blowing from this morning, which is a nice welcome compared to the heat outside. I throw the bag of chips I grabbed onto my bed and jump in shortly after, bouncing slightly on the worn mattress. 

I reach into the drawer of the bedside table and sift around through paperclips, comic books and loose strips of gum until I find a small plastic case. I lift it up into the light and smile slightly, the eyes of Alice Cooper staring directly into mine. 

Instead of a cassette, I opted for a CD. I'm slightly more modern, I suppose. I throw it into the player on the other side of my bed and turn it on, the serene sound of heavy rock flowing through my room. Charlotte was right, I must admit — Alice Cooper is fantastic. 

I lie down with the bag of chips and start chewing loudly, no worry of bothering anyone with the annoying sound. This is pretty nice, y'know? Listening to music, eating pure sodium, and relaxing after a long day at school. Now is the time to think. 

I think about lunch with my friends. Randy was going on about how he almost got fired at work again, just because he accidentally counted change wrong and gave someone an extra five bucks. Sidney was being herself, fidgeting uncontrollably and laughing at everything I said. Tatum and Stu left early to hook up in the bathroom, because they're actually disgusting. 

I think about my dad. When I woke up this morning, he hadn't left for work yet. He just sat in the kitchen in a suit and tie, holding his coffee and staring out the window. He barely even looked at me, but did offer me some caffeine before I left for school. He and I haven't exchanged more than fifty words in the last five months, I'd guess. 

I think about homecoming. It's coming up soon. Shit, I'm really not in the mood to find a date. Honestly, I'm not even sure if I want to go. Knowing my friends, they're gonna drag me along anyways, but what's the point? 

Then I think about Charlotte. That's new.

I take that as my cue to roll over and grab a notebook from my bedside table, along with a random pen. I'm done thinking for the moment. Time to do some work.

I flip open to a page in the middle in which I've bookmarked with a random sticky note. There's very little writing on it, just a few random doodles and a name:

- Maureen Prescott

I stare at the notebook for a long time. I don't know how long. My eyes don't dry out, and I don't even breathe. I just stare. I stare until the CD ends. I stare until my arms feel too heavy to hold up the notebook anymore. I stare until I have to blink. I stare until I put it down. 

It's been almost a year. A year since that day. 

I used to have this feeling in my chest, this burning ache. It wasn't heartbreak or yearning, no. It was stronger than that. It was worse than that. Then it went away one day, about a year ago. Haven't felt it since. But I'm nervous I will. 

Maybe 'nervous' isn't the right word. 'Anxious,' maybe. I'm not scared it'll come back. I kind of miss it. It's like I lost a limb, and now I'm walking around without a leg or an arm. I'm not whole without it, but I can manage just fine. 

The garage door suddenly whirs. Shit. Time's up. 

I can hear my dad walking around downstairs and talking to someone on the phone. I quickly throw the notebook back into the drawer and turn on my CD again, trying to drown out his presence. I think it's pretty obvious to tell, but I don't like my father. 

The only nice thing is that he doesn't hover. He stays in his lane and I stay in mine, no questions asked. We have an unspoken rule that unless I get arrested, hurt, or need legal help, we don't really talk. That rule was implemented after I found out he cheated on my mom. 

"Billy?" I can hear him call my name from the stairs. 

"What?"

"Turn down that music."

"No."

Footsteps. And then my door swings open. 

"Turn off the fucking music. I have a headache."

"That's your problem."

I smile at him innocently. He looks like he's about to walk across the room and punch me in the nose. But we both know he's too much of a pussy to do that. 

Instead, he walks over and unplugs the CD player from my wall. Alice's voice cuts out abruptly and I sit up just as quickly. "What the hell?"

"Go to sleep."

"But it's only four-"

"Go to sleep, smartass."

My dad pulls the player out of my room and turns off my light switch as he goes, leaving me in my room in dead silence. It's not even dark outside yet. I haven't had dinner or anything! All I've got is this stupid bag of chips. 

I haven't felt that ache in my chest in a long time. But I can feel it now. It's small, nothing more than a touch. 

But it's there. As I stare at my closed door in the uncomfortable silence, it's definitely there.