Julian

IV. April, Ch. 50

     There wasn't a single nerve Roger wasn't getting on.

     "It's time to move on. Take a shower. Return Marlo's calls. Do something."

     His last word triggered a demonic possession.

     Calvin moved one foot back and, with all the passion of a Red Sock trying to strike out a Yankee, threw the half-empty glass of Tang across the kitchen, shattering the glass to pieces and staining the white wall orange.

     Roger jumped.

     That told him. Calvin drew an unnatural amount of pleasure watching the destruction he caused.

     Roger swallowed away the shock. "Quit throwing tantrums and get your damn life together."

     Calvin's smirk vanished.

     With wet eyes so hot, they steamed, he charged at Roger, grabbed his shirt collar and shook him violently, as if he was the one responsible for Genevieve's absence. "Stay. The hell. Away from me."

     Roger looked at his friend with fear and worry. "You're not okay, man."

     The pain he caused should have satisfied him, but it didn't. He pushed Roger down on the ground, over the puddle of glass pieces and Tang.

     Roger's lower lip twitched. He froze for a second.

     Calvin looked down at him. His eyes focused on the puddle, which was turning a brighter shade of orange.

     Roger brought his hand to his frame of vision. A long ribbon of blood ran all the way down to his elbow. He looked up at Calvin, asking why? with his eyes.

     It was that frightened look that exorcised Calvin of his demons.

     He couldn't believe what his sadness drove him to. What have you done? Why did you hurt your best friend, your brother?

     As cowardly as it was, he walked backwards until he was out of the kitchen.

     The commotion brought Cookie out of the bedroom. "What happened?"

     Roger let out a sharp, painful cry from the kitchen. "Cal."

     He couldn't tolerate another second of reminders of the pain he caused. He grabbed his shoes by the door and walked out of the apartment.

     Move quickly, before they catch up. He slipped his shoes on with the shoelaces undone, raced down the stairs, and stepped out into the streets.

     Roger words echoed in his head. You used to be committed and disciplined, perhaps the most disciplined person I knew.

     It would have been a compliment four months ago. Now, he wanted nothing to do with discipline.

     What did discipline earn him? His father's approval? His mother's peace of mind? But did it earn him the love of his life?

     Genevieve's haunting memory reappeared.

     He slipped his hands in his pockets as he walked to a nearby park, where teenagers tossed frisbees and women pushed babies in strollers.

     Everyone on earth was happy, except him.

     What was the point in being chivalrous when women didn't appreciate it? Why bother keeping the law unbroken when it didn't impress anyone?

     He was so young and so subordinate, a walking contradiction.

     He sat on a park bench, basking in his first serving of fresh air in days. His eyes stared ahead at nothing.