How My Ex-Boyfriend Won Me Back

Brother Bear

I sat there in that same position for hours. Just sitting there, watching the sunlight fade from the window, from the corner of my eye. It was no longer morning, but late noon.

The jingle of keys could be heard from outside the hall. As it approached it got louder. I stayed in place, silent, as I listened to the keys being pushed into the key socket before being turned. As the door opened, I heard a familiar booming voice:

"Hey, you wouldn't believe it, but I got the weirdest text from Ethan. He said I should go home becau-... Sis? You alright?"  

Nothing. Instead of responding, I simply sat there with my face buried in my knees, quiet. Seeing this, my brother closed quietly closed the door behind himself as he let himself in. I heard the floor creak ever so slightly, as he approached me and knelt by my side. Using one finger, he poked my side, trying to get a response out of me. Maybe trying to get me to laugh. To my surprise, he wasn't making fun of me or calling me a weakling like he normally would have. Instead, I felt a large, warm hand plop onto the top of my head as he patted me a few times.

"There...there.." he awkwardly mumbled, trying his best to comfort me. He took a deep breathe before sliding his arm under my knees and his other arm wrapped around my shoulders. With a grunt, he lifted me off the ground, and I let out a quiet peep of surprise. He continued, "Everything's alright now... Tell your big brother what happened."

I didn't know what to say. This was the first time in years he had ever been nice to me. I was in shock that he wasn't picking on me. It must have been obvious how much I was hurting on the inside. I didn't have much to say, and I didn't have much to feel. My cheeks flushed when I realized how embarrassed I was. He was treating me like a little baby, trying to calm me down and caring me. He was actually being a brother to me for once, protecting me, and I didn't know how to react.

He let out a sigh of relief as soon as he sat on the couch, with me still on his lap. He didn't move when I changed my position to make myself more comfortable, sitting right next to him and resting my head on his chest.

As I looked up at his face with my red, puffy eyes I could tell that he was waiting for an explanation on why I was on the ground in a wet mess. But I didn't have one. Well, at least one I was fine telling him about.

What was I supposed to say? That one of his closes friends basically forced himself in and I made out with him just a little bit and then I just out of no where started crying? It would have sounded insane. So, like him, I remained quiet.

"You...look stupider than usual.. Should go put on more make up" he told me, trying to lighten the mood. He grabbed a crumpled tissue on the coffee table and lightly dabbed it on my already almost-dried cheeks.

I don't know if it was his playful insult, everything that happened that day, or him being kind for once that caused my eyes to water up again. My mouth quivered as I started to whine a little. Soon enough, a few tears drizzled a path down my face.

"Woah woah woah, I didn't mean it that way..." he responded, trying to take back what he had just uttered.

But it didn't work. My hands formed into fists as I grabbed his shirt and pulled myself tightly onto him as I cried, creating a wet-spot on the center of his shirt on his chest. And once again, he lightly and rhythmically patted my back as he repeated, "There there..."

Since I had already cried earlier that day, it didn't take too long for me to run out of tears. Sniffling, I started to slowly confide in my brother about what happened and how it made me feel. How I wasn't sure if I still liked one of his best friends, and how confusing everything was for me as of the moment.

I stared and played with the bottom of his shirt, as he kept lightly patting my head with his great warm hand, as if he was programmed to do so. I kept talking and explaining how I felt as he sat there patiently listening to my mouth go on and on.

Though it didn't seem like Drew was listening, I knew he was. He was quiet. Distant, almost. He had an empty look in his eyes as he stared as if he was trying to watch something far, far away. His entire body seemed lay back and sunken into the couch. He was staring at our flat screen on the wall, concentrating as if some big game was going on right now. But the TV was off. He remained silent, thinking.

After a little while, it bothered me how quiet he was. Normally he would have yelled at me to shut up and tell me that everything I was talking about seemed like more of a "personal problem."

Suddenly, he used his hands to lift me off his lap and he stood up. Without saying anything, he walked swiftly past the kitchen towards the apartment door.

Lifting my head up, I followed him with my eyes asking, "Drew? Um...What are you doing?" 

He didn't answer me. A wave of panic hit. This was very unlike him to internalize what he was thinking or feeling. He was quiet, but moving quickly and intentionally. 

"Drew" I repeated. "Tell me what you are doing..." He swung a jacket over his shoulders an shot his arms through the sleeves, before opening the door. Right before he stepped out I could barely hear him order, "Stay here." The door slammed behind him, frighting a little squeak out of me. 

Rushing to my room, I shredded off my pajamas off and threw on some clothes. I grabbed the nearest purse and slung it over my shoulder and across my chest. It had the bare minimum of pocket cash, keys, and my phone I placed in it. I barely cared if it matched, I just wanted something on so I could follow him. Right before I left, I checked the mirror from the bathroom in the hallway, using a damp piece of toilet paper to wipe away any teary residue. 

I raced out of the apartment and down the stairs. Once I reached the bottom of the building, I jolted out to the parking lot and searched up and down the few stories for my brother's car. It was no where to be found. My heart sank as reality had finally settled in my brain:

My brother was gone. 

I was torn, but still determined to follow him. Somehow. If only I had actually gotten my driver's license instead of listening to my father, who always told me to "focus more on my grades." His irritating voice echoed in my head:

"You don't need a car" he'd lecture me. "Everything you need is within walking distance from this apartment. That's one of the reasons why we moved here in the first place. Besides, if it's not you can just get a ride from Drew or one of your little friends. Or you know, do what I did at your age and take the bus." 

That's it: the bus. I knew what I had to do. Checking my purse, I saw that I had just enough for a few rides. I went across the street and skimmed through the maps, trying to be as decisive as possible. Unfortunately, I'm not a decisive person. 

A bus approached. I checked its number, then looked at the route it would take. It was going to stop a few blocks past Ethan's house. But was that where I wanted to go? 

There was no time to make a choice. When I looked up, the bus doors hissed open in front of me, dispersing a burnt-rubbed and oily smell. The scent made me want to puke a little as rushed people abrasively brushed past my shoulders and arms on their way on board. The driver snapped at me, "Hey young lady, are you going on or what? We can't wait all day." 

I nervously nodded, too afraid to speak, and too afraid to open my mouth in case I'd inhale some more of that nauseating fume. I squeezed my eyes shut. "For Drew...and for Ethan too" I thought to myself. 

Holding my breath, I went in.