Then There Was You

Chapter 4: Late Night Confessions

Theo

   The dreams were a lot more vivid tonight. According to my counselor, Dr. Du Bois, I should expect to have nightmares for a long while. It's part of the PTSD package. Usually, they didn't bother me much. Sure they sucked, but that was just part of the process. However, tonight I needed the rest.

   On nights like this, my handicap felt all the more debilitating. Above me, the moon illuminated the clear, dark sky. Stars shimmered in the distance, the beauty of them putting me in an explorative mood. I brought my vape to my lips and inhaled deeply. A cloud of smoke temporarily obstructed my view as the familiar lightheadedness took over my senses.

Mom would flip if she knew I still had that thing, but since sleep wouldn't take the edge off, something had to give.

   Before the accident I never had insomnia. Between school, practice, and helping Mom out with her latest construction plans during the summer, I was always dog-tired. But I loved it.

   Looking down at my legs, I stared intensely while I willed them to move. The message had been sent, and my core contracted, however, the muscles in my legs refused to obey. If it wasn't obvious, I hadn't been very active since the accident. The depression was normal, they said, but I didn't see anything normal about it. Then, again, I only had myself to blame for that night. Everyone knew of my biggest fuck up and in less than five hours I'll have to face them while they watch me roll by with pitiful looks.

Poor, Theodore Robenson. Boo-fuckin-hoo.

   Feeling sorry for myself sure was getting me tired. I stayed out for just a few more minutes before going back inside. As I rolled through the hallway to my new bedroom, I heard footsteps around the corner. A few seconds later, Dad appeared at the end of the hall. In his hand was a half-empty gallon of milk and he wore his usual blue flannel pajama bottoms.

"How you doing, kiddo?" he asked, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"I'm alright," I said, hoping he wouldn't pry.

Nodding, he brought the gallon to his mouth and nearly gulped down the whole thing.

"Feeling better from earlier?" he asked as I'd begun to advance toward my room.

I stopped and looked away guiltily.

"Yeah," I said after a while.

"Yeah?" he asked, his concern clear while his disciplinary tone expressed his disapproval of my action.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling the weight of sleep on my lids.

"It's just a lot to deal with. Mom should've asked me first before she went to Delilah," I said, my anger rising again but I kept it in check.

I glanced up at my father who now stood right in the middle of the hallway.

"Your mother was just trying to help. Plus, it's not like it'd be the first time Delilah gave you a ride. It never bothered you before. So what changed?" Dad asked, in that know-it-all tone that felt like nails on a chalkboard to me now.

I tsk-ed and glanced up at him. He was watching me with intrigue. Did he really need me to answer that?

"Really? Can't you figure that out?" I said, not waiting for an answer, or expecting one.

   The last thing I needed tonight was a lecture. Everybody seemed to have some kind of advice for shit they never had to deal with. By now I learned to ignore it, wishful thinking was of no use to me. My optimism flew off that cliff with any dreams I had. I was no longer the fool I once was.