▹ Frank.
"So... you know about the band, right?"
"No, Frank. I really had no idea you had a band 'til now."
Cherry was quite... something.
She was one of the biggest, most sarcastic assholes I'd ever met, and I could probably count the times I'd seen her smile on one hand. And yet, I adored that bastard more than words could ever say. It was crazy how, even if we only saw each other for a few hours while she was on her lunch break, and after she got out of work, we'd grown close to the point my day felt incomplete without her.
I suppose sneaking around like teens hiding from their parents wasn't too thrilling whenever I wanted to watch a movie or go somewhere nice with her, but it kept our friendship interesting. There was something strangely exhilarating about our hushed conversations and ducking behind anything we could find every time a car drove by (although the possibility of getting my ass beat by Cherry's 6'3 behemoth of a boyfriend was far less exciting.)
"You eatin' that?" She mumbled between bites of her burrito as she pointed at the uneaten fries on my tray.
I mean, I was initially planning to eat them. But from how she stuffed her face like it was her last day on Earth, I could tell she hadn't been eating well. So I just shook my head and pushed my tray towards her, earning one of her rare, tiny smiles.
"You have a pretty smile," I mused, but she just rolled her eyes at me.
Over the years, one thing I'd noticed about Cherry was that she didn't think she was pretty. She brushed off all of my compliments, and I'd seen how she averted her gaze in another direction whenever we walked past a reflective surface. It was almost like she was... I don't know, scared of her own reflection. And I honestly couldn't grasp how someone like her, someone who looked stunning in my eyes, could think of herself that way.
As I looked at her, sitting in front of me and awkwardly squinting as the sunlight from the window illuminated her face, I was once again reassured of how much I liked Cherry. I liked the way her dark brown- almost black- eyes looked like honey, and her skin, still showing a few tiny spots from her teenage acne, looked like gold under the sunlight. And even if I gave her shit for it, I liked even her shitty, asymmetrical hair.
But we were just friends, and she had a boyfriend.
Besides, our friendship was too good to ruin it with romantic feelings.
"You're spacin' out," she chuckled with that sweet, almost boyish rasp of hers. "And you're freaking me out, dude. You're staring at me with that "serial killer from a shitty 80s movie" look."
"Got distracted by your beauty," I playfully winked at her, but as expected, she just rolled her eyes and flicked my nose. "Also, you have a big-ass strip of lettuce on your cheek."
I reached forward and brushed my thumb over her cheek, and though she tried to play it cool, I noticed Cherry tensed at my touch. And I guess I didn't blame her because I'd seen her bruised and battered enough times to realize that I was probably the only guy in her life who didn't use her as his personal punching bag.
"Anyway, you were sayin' something about your band?" Cherry quickly switched subjects, her eyes darting from my face to the window beside her.
"Oh, right. Uh, we're going on tour!"
Although I was ecstatic by the news, I couldn't help but feel a little... guilty? The last time Cherry and I had been apart for more than two or three days was during my college exams, and we both hated it. So I really had no idea what being three months apart would do to us.
"Dude, that's so sick! Oh my God!" Cherry gasped and reached for my forearm across the table, her beaded bracelets rattling as she moved her arm. "When are you leaving? Oh- and how long are you gonna be gone for?"
Well, here goes nothing.
"In two days, and... uh, three months..."
"Oh."
"Yeah..."
"I... dude." Cherry incredulously breathed out, and I could tell she was trying her hardest not to snap at me. "Why-why hadn't you told me?"
"I don't know," I shrugged, unable to think clearly as I looked at Cherry's bewildered expression. "Doll, I'm sorry-"
"Do you have a photographer?"
"What?"
"Do you guys have anyone to, you know, take pictures and stuff at your concerts?"
I honestly had no idea where she was getting with this, but her sudden shift of demeanor piqued my interest. Cherry's face had gone from sadness and disbelief to this weird mix of desperation and urgency in a matter of seconds. And though she often had these weird mood shifts, the disguised distress laced in her voice made me slightly worried.
"C, we can barely even pay for gas," I chuckled, putting my hand over hers, which still rested on my forearm. "We can't really afford a photographer, dude."
"I'll do it!" She quickly said before turning her face in embarrassment at the sudden outburst of emotion. "I'll do it for free. You guys can pay me when you become big rockstars, or whatever."
Was she serious?
"What about David-"
"Fuck him, man," Cherry scoffed, and I really didn't know what had gotten into her. "I've been wanting to get out of this shithole for years, anyway. And if you're going away, I guess there's no reason for me to stick around."
Knowing I was the reason Cherry stuck around the shithole Belleville was, warmed my heart, but it also made me feel an odd sense of guilt. I knew she'd had lots of opportunities to leave since we met, and, up until now, I never understood why she didn't do it. And suddenly, the memories of her subtly telling me to take her with me to Newark when I left for college, only for me to laugh it off because I was too stupid to understand, came flooding back to me.
I officially felt like the scum of Earth.
"Cherry, you know I'd carry you around in my pocket if I could," I chuckled, trying to laugh off the guilt that was weighing my shoulders down. "But the van's not mine... I'll have to ask the other boys 'cause, y'know..."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," she looked down and fluttered her pretty lashes, which was something she didn't know made my heart melt. "It's cool, Frankie..."
"We have a band meeting tonight," I blurted out after a millisecond of debating whether I should tell her. "Why don't you tag along? That way you can meet them, introduce yourself, and all that jazz."
"Frank, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," Cherry leaned over the table, almost knocking both our trays to the ground in the process, and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Even if you're sweaty and kinda smelly, I love you, dude."
"Love ya too, with your shitty hair and everything."
"Look who's talking."
"Right. So, should I pick you up after your shift?"
"Yeah, sure. I gotta get going now."
"See you, then, miss photographer."
▹ Cherilynn.
Well, shit.
I wasn't a photographer. In fact, the closest I'd ever gotten to taking professional pictures was playing around with David's camera, which he spent my savings on before using it once and never again. But now- if Frankie's bandmates liked me- I'd have to take pictures of a whole-ass band.
I honestly had no idea whether I could bullshit my way into convincing them I wasn't inexperienced. But I was at least going to give it a try. After all, if I didn't do it now, I'd probably never have the guts to leave, and then Frank would turn into a big rockstar, and I'd never see him again. So even if it scared the living shit out of me, I was determined to make a good impression.
I slowly made my way out of the shitty, tiny Taco Bell we were eating at and onto the street. I knew I had to go back to work since I still had almost 3 hours left of my shift, but I had to get home before David woke up. So even if I knew this would probably get me fired, I turned on my heel and hurriedly speed-walked back home.
I'd walked through these streets thousands of times, and yet, I felt my heart beating in my throat as I tried my best to ignore everyone who walked past me. I knew all it would take for someone to pull a fucking gun on me was one wrong step, so I kept my head low and clutched my keys tightly between my knuckles.
I really couldn't wait to get the hell out of Belleville.
By some sort of miracle, I managed to go one more day without getting jumped on my way back home. But even as I finally caught a view of the red, vandalized brick façade of my apartment complex, my heartbeat didn't slow down. Honestly, I think I was even tenser than before.
I walked up the concrete stairs, skillfully dodging the crackhead that slept at the bottom of the stairwell and all the bottles he had laying around, and made my way inside. Someone had stolen the lightbulb at the entrance a few weeks ago, and no one had bothered to replace it, so I almost couldn't see shit. But I'd lived in this place long enough, so I didn't dwell on it much and started walking as slowly and silently as I could up the creaky stairs and toward my third-floor apartment.
"Hi."
Suddenly, I heard a tiny voice, and I almost shit myself, clinging to the iron railing to stop myself from falling on my face. I suppose my paranoia got the best of me because as I looked up, I noticed a frail silhouette curled over in the dark only a few steps away from me.
"Hey," I awkwardly responded, slowly going up to the stair where the girl- this poor redhead who didn't look much older than me and looked like she'd been crying- sat. "What's up? Everything okay?"
I knew she was the girlfriend or wife or something of my downstairs neighbor, whose yelling could be heard all the way up in my apartment. And though part of me wanted to keep talking to her, knowing that her psycho boyfriend could walk out at any minute scared the living shit out of me.
"Oh, you know... it's just Anthony again," she sighed, and I just awkwardly stood beside her. "He's been in a... bad mood recently, and I guess I made him upset."
"You should really leave him, dude," I mumbled, trying to avert my gaze from the hand-shaped bruise- which I'd just noticed- peeking from underneath her tank top's strap. "Go stay with your parents or something."
"It's not that easy."
It was incredible how something as easy as packing your bags and taking a bus could be so hard. And yet, the two of us were trapped in this self-chosen hell we were too scared to break out of.
"It is. Actually, I'm about to leave just now," I shrugged, hoping and praying the girl hadn't seen me the many times I'd tried to leave before, only to turn back once I reached the bottom of the stairwell. "Fuck guys, am I right?"
"Fuck guys," she repeated, and I faintly smiled at her remark.
"Stay safe... what's your name?"
I'd lived in the same apartment complex for more than 2 years. And I'd never interacted with any of my neighbors out of fear. But now, as I found myself talking to this girl- not even worrying about David coming and finding out I was talking to someone- I felt a sudden surge of confidence wash over me. For once in my life, I wouldn't let my fear control me.
"I'm Victoria."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Cherilynn."
"Well, good luck, Cherilynn."
"Good luck to you too."
"Hey-" Victoria gently touched my ankle with her fingertips as I started going back up the stairs.
"Yeah?"
"You don't have to be afraid to walk this world alone, okay? Keep on living- take your life back."
"You'll make it out of here, Victoria. I know you will."
I was scared- not of being alone or losing stability like when I was 17- but of the uncertainty of my future. I knew my life would turn upside down depending on what I chose to do after I walked through the alder door, which concealed the tiny studio that had stripped all the happiness and tears away from me. What I did in the following few minutes would dictate whether I'd whither and silently pray for a way out until David got bored of me and kicked me out, or I'd finally break free and take my life in my own hands.
I walked inside.
David was passed out.
Fuck it.
I was leaving today.