Disequilibrium

Part 2: Sophomore Year - Scene 3

I take one of the lawn chairs and drag it outside. The air is chilly and all I have on are boxers, but I don't bother going back in. I'm still sweating. I sit down and take a sip from the beer, my face twisting into that same reaction from before. But I force myself to take another, then another. Soon enough, the burn turns into a slight sting.

It's not that easy with the cigarette though. I can't stop coughing like a goddamn maniac and having to stifle the coughs is even worse. If Dad finds out, he'll have my head. If he can even touch me.

I let the cigarette burn for a while. I like the way it looks. I take an occasional hit of it, trying to get used to it like I did with the beer. But it's not easy.

What are you doing?

Nothing's ever easy.

"Holden? Is that you?"

Who the fuck is awake at three in the morning? I glance over to my left and take another drink, squinting in the dark at the figure that's looking back at me. Three doors down. What the hell does she want now?

She's walking over. She's got a fluffy pink robe on and some slippers. Her hands are wrapped around her waist like she'd split in half if she doesn't squeeze hard enough, but I don't question it.

Her eyes are red. So is the side of her face.

"It is you," she says.

"The one and only."

"You're smoking."

"No shit." I'm a little buzzed, I will admit. I'm not even halfway through. Even so, I bring the cigarette to my lips and suck in before tilting my head and blowing the smoke to the heavens. "I think I'm getting the hang of it."

I look back at her. She looks sad as hell. "Your father is a good man, Holden, but I don't understand some of the things he does. I don't understand it at all."

"Men aren't supposed to be understood." I take another sip and offer the bottle to her. She takes it. "Did my dad hit you or something?"

"Yeah," she says, which makes me flinch. I thought Dad never hit anybody. "It was my fault though. I know he didn't mean it. I went too far."

"What did you do?"

"I mentioned your mother."

Oh. Bad move.

She hands me back the bottle without drinking from it. So I take a drink for her. Take another hit, too. I probably look like a sick replica of my father, but I can't bring myself to care.

"I'm Nichole, by the way. I don't think we've been formally introduced."

Dad doesn't like introducing his sloppy seconds, I almost tell her, but I figure it's too mean. "What are you doing out at three in the morning, Nichole?"

"Couldn't sleep. What about you?"

"Same thing. I had a nightmare. For the first time since I was a kid."

She squats down, still holding onto her stomach. I think about bringing the other chair out for her, but I don't really want to. I don't know why. "What was it about?"

I should tell her to fuck off. I should tell her to quit worrying about me and go to someone who actually cares. But instead, I say, "I was kissing somebody."

"And that's bad?"

"No, that was good. It was really good. But then they said something, and everything went to shit. I saw my mom, and she said the same thing, and then I got scared. I got so scared I sweat through my clothes. It was a fucking trip, believe me."