A Very Queer Reality

(Chapter 15) Contact

If there was anyone in the world with as many emotions running through them as I had running through me while I sat there in the booth, I felt immensely sorry for them. It was not a pleasant feeling. It was not a good chaos. There was so much fear, so much worry. 

Carol ended up coming to get me, saying that if all holds up, Dad would be released from the hospital in 24 hours. We caught a cab back to the motel and planned to get dinner at Applebee's in about a half hour. For the time being, she was going out to the nearest store to get some basic foods to stock the mini-fridge for tomorrow so we wouldn't waste too much money eating out at every single meal.

Which left me alone in the motel for thirty minutes.

Fishing my phone back out of my pocket, I texted Kelsey.

Are you allowed to text me??

Within two minutes she had replied: Yes. Dad can't check my phone. She texted again, Omg so how is it? How is he? How are you?? Tell me e v e r y t h i n g bc it's been wayyyy too long and I wanna know what's going on in your life!

I asked if I could facetime her. To which she replied she was at a pubic function, but yeah, 'the people shant mind if I chat with the most wonderful person on earth'.

I called. She picked up. 

I almost cried upon seeing her face, that sick knot feeling in my throat cracking my voice.

"Oh my God, hi," I breathed out, to which she smiled and said hullo.

I began to replay everything from the past two days to her, from the jock-encounter to flying to Deep-Talks-With-Dad.

"Damn," she sighed, "wish I coulda come with you...sounds like you need a hug, and I mean me too."

I frowned, "What's up on your end?"

Again Kelsey sighed, "Well Casey and Summer are hanging out a lot, leaving me to deal with all of life alone; well I mean with the exception of the apartment kids. They're nice, but they're not what our group used to be you know?" I nodded. "Anyways, so Dad's still bitching about everything, my big bro has left me for dead to elope in Vegas with some other chick, and oh! I almost forgot about Dad's new toy. He has this girl and he brought her home and now she's living with us and he just objectifies her! And she goes with it! She doesn't even care that his 'I love you's literally mean 'fuck me again'. Ughhhhhh." Kelsey rolled her eyes, looking nervously at a group of people who had just looked at her for blatantly cursing and loudly discussing feminism with her phone.

"Man, you really do need a hug," I watched her movements on the screen with sadness for her. Something in the background of her screen caught my eye, "Wait, wait Kelsey, stop moving."

"What?"

"Turn around and turn the regular camera on," I said quietly, even though her earbuds masked my instructions from the crowd. The camera flipped and I could see what she was seeing in her location. "Who are those kids on the wall?"

She looked, was quiet in trying to figure it out, "I think that may be Casey and Summer." Concern was in her voice, "Something isn't right." I could tell. Casey was sitting up on a half wall that led to a hill to the parking lot of another building, Summer seemingly limp in his lap. He was frantically trying to tend to a wound on her face, a gash almost unnoticeable in her dark skin from this distance. Then I spotted the rest of them.

Jocks.

"Kelsey," her phone shook in her shaking hands, I could tell, and the camera flipped back around to her face. She was pale with fear, paler than usual (which basically made her Twilight vampire white).

"Yeah?" her lips quivered slightly, eyes remaining locked on Summer and Kelsey above the screen she held.

"Jocks. The jocks are here, I saw them pushing through the crowd toward Summer and Casey. Two or three of them from what I saw. Kelsey, listen to me. I need you to stay safe-"

"But Summer and Casey aren't safe!" her voice was a coarse whisper.

"I know, I know...and I know you want to help; that's what you do. You have such a big heart, and I'm not going to stop you. Actually I'm going to encourage you. Call for help, call authorities, do what you can to help just please stay safe." I was breathing fast, my heartbeat based on anxiety.

"I make no promises," a thin tear slipped from her eye and she ended the call. I could imagine her slipping her phone into her pocket and running through the crowd, her short body struggling to weave between the narrow gaps of people in this parking-lot-event. I could imagine different things happening, different outcomes.

I felt dizzy.

I felt sick.

Dinnertime came, Carol called for me to get ready, we were leaving for Applebee's. When we got there, I ordered my drink, a Sprite, and told Carol what to order for me in case I wasn't back in time to order for myself. I ran to the bathroom, locking myself in the second to last stall, you know, the small one beside the big one on the back wall. I sat, pulling my legs up to my chest, my head on my knees. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to puke.

I wanted to fly home and help and make sure everything was okay and make everything be right again. I wanted to serve justice to the jocks and their friends that hurt people.

So many things I wanted. So many things I couldn't do.

But two I was able to do, so it happened as it did: I shifted to the floor, facing the toilet to vomit the sick feeling in my stomach out, and then cried and cried and cried.

I was probably in that bathroom for over half an hour, some people came in and I quieted myself, shaking with emotion in my veins. One person seemed to stop in front of my stall, maybe going to say something, but didn't and moved on. No one else seemed to notice.

Eventually, I left my stall, walking numbly to the sink and mirrors. I cleaned myself up and washed my hands from gripping the sides and flushing the toilet. Upon returning to my table, Carol didn't even question. my food was still kind of warm, like a little less than "Luke", but edible nonetheless. Penne with chicken drowned out some of the thoughts, some of the feelings. I ate it all, which was something I didn't normally do, but Carol didn't seem to notice. A cheer was raised at the bar in the center of the restaurant. They seemed to have their hearts on their sleeves, the people in the bar; they seemed happy-go-lucky and content with their slurred karaoke. I longed for something at least closed to that-- not the alcohol, but the vibe.

We caught a taxi and drove home in silence, Carol's to-go box in her lap. Our motel awaited us, begging to be unlocked so it could welcome me into the mattress that sing me to sleep so I didn't have to think anymore.

I didn't change out of my clothes,

I didn't take off my shoes

Or shower.

And I didn't even tell Carol

"good-night".