✧𝙽𝚘𝚊𝚑✧
I'm not a good person. I lie. I'm arrogant. Swear more than I should. Rude, disrespectful, bossy—Should I go on? I can. I don't even know what to say to this poor girl who thinks she loves a bad person. So, I just...don't say anything.
I mean—I say some things. I ask her how she likes her eggs in the morning even though I know that already. I ask if she'd like some coffee with it which I also know she would. But that's all I can come up with. When I run out of questions that I already know the answers to, I stop talking. And she won't even meet my eyes because she's embarrassed.
I don't know how I'm supposed to say it back and mean it. This little part of me—the one that's stuck with me throughout my bad years, my truly awful years, and the slightly better ones—says I can't say it back. It says she doesn't love me, she loves this version of me that I've shown her. The version of me I want to be. My version of that blonde haired blue eyed guy that she could grow to love.
So, that part reasons that I just can't say it back because she didn't really say it to me. I mean, she didn't. She said it to the guy who holds her after sex. The one who watches movies with her before bed, who's got dinner ready by the time she's home, who's great with her perfect little boy.
My mind races with questions and terrible answers. It berates me for past mistakes and mistakes I haven't made yet but will definitely make because those are the only guarantees I can ever make. It feels like too much is happening up there, and it's only a matter of time before I slip.
I make mistakes. All day—I make mistakes because my mind just won't stop running.
It starts before I've even started the day. While I'm asking Kiara about those eggs, I touch the pan sat on the burner. It stings the tip of my finger and the girl who thinks she loves me rushes right over and directs me to hold it under a cold stream of water for a few seconds.
Then the coffee. While I'm asking her if she wants any coffee before she leaves for work, I'm pouring my own cup. Before I know it, the sound of liquid dropping onto the floor makes me stop and I look down at the puddle on the counter—overflowing onto the floor because I miss my coffee mug somehow.
She helps me clean that up too.
And—Thank God she takes Cameron to school this morning because I run a red light on my way to work and flashing lights flag me down until I pull over on the curb. I'm asked to get out of the car and walk along a line for the officer. Asked to follow his finger too before he lets me go with a nice big ticket for running the light. And for speeding because he followed me long enough for that one too.
That's not even the end of it. I still have the whole day ahead of me. A whole day filled with fuck ups. Fuck up after fuck up until I'm sent home and told to get some goddamn sleep or something. It's fine though, because it was only two hours earlier than normal. I'll see it on my paycheck, but that's okay too.
Kiara told me I'm clumsy when my guard is down. She laughed while she said it, but I just smiled and responded with something stupid to tease her. But really, it wasn't funny. Not to me. She's free to laugh about it all she'd like, but it's not funny.
I'm not clumsy like she says. I just don't think. And I do it when my guard is down and I'm preoccupied with something. Something like the pretty girl who won't take her eyes off me. Or like the thoughts telling me in detail how much of a screw up I am constantly.
I'm told to go home, but that's not actually where I go. I sort of keep driving past my building. Kiara texts me sometime during that drive to tell me she's going to pick Cameron up from school today since he said something about wanting to see her office once. I never respond to that because by the time I stop driving to check that message, it's already been an hour since she sent it and she's probably already picked him up.
I know what this chaotic feeling is. It's when my guard's down, my mind's racing, and I don't know what to. It's autopilot. It's spiraling. Fucking nosedive straight to the harsh, solid ground below.
I'm spiraling over three words. A fucking phrase. I haven't spiraled in years and this—this is what does it for me.
That's terrifying. Three words are all it takes now. I am at the mercy of a woman and an eight-year-old who both think they love me.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
__________
I don't have much...experience with family. I was supposed to when my son was born, but I wasn't there for that either. And as much as I love my sister, our childhood was not the epitome of the perfect home.
I don't think I actually know anyone who had a great childhood now that I think of it. But that's beside the point. Point is, I don't have much experience.
You know who does though?
"The fuck are you doing here?"
My bestest friend in the whole wide fucked up world. My only friend, actually. Because the rest are tied to shit that I'm supposed to let go of. The bad. The reason why I don't have much experience in the first place.
"Jackson, what'd I say about unwanted visitors?"
The poor guy who led me to the doorway of the closed off office awkwardly shifts on his feet. "I'm sorry. I thought unwanted visitors meant..." He trials off with an awkward glance my way. "Well. Your list of unwanted visitors. Should I go over their names again for you, sir? James, Eli, W—"
"No—No, that's not—" Alex sighs sharply and looks away. He looks away because his wife told him to stop glaring at this poor guy. And somehow, she knows when he has. "That's...fine, Jackson. You can go now." He grits out, eyes still turned away.
Jackson doesn't waste a second to run off.
I blow out a breath as I wander further into his office, letting the door shut behind me. "Poor guy. Ran out like his tail was on fire." I murmur as I come over to take a seat in front of his desk.
Alex looks over at me and glares because he's allowed to glare at me. That's just what scares me even more. He's not allowed to glare at just anyone anymore. Aaliyah doesn't actually have a way of reinforcing that, unless you count her disappointed frown as a way. That somehow gets him to stop. He's on a leash, and I don't know if I want to be on one. Or if I'm already on one.
"The hell do you want?"
I sigh as I relax into the nice comfortable chair. I look out the window at his even greater view than the one he had when he started. "Oh, hey, look. A bird." I smile as I gesture to the lonely bird that flies its way past the floor to ceiling windows.
"I'm calling security."
I hum as I look back at him. "You're no fun." I decide. His eyes narrow. "I have a few questions I need answered."
"I'm working, asshole."
"Yeah—you're playing cards." I nod over to the little glass decoration thing he has on a shelf behind him. It shows me a reflection of his screen.
He quickly looks over his shoulder. "Damnit," He whispers as he reaches over to adjust that. "What do you want, Noah?" He asks again, impatient as ever. "I don't have time to answer your questions."
I chuckle. "But you have time to lose at—What is that? Solitaire?" I sit up some in my seat to try and see his screen. He quickly pushes it further to the right. "Also, shouldn't you be getting ready to go home already? It's almost after five."
"Okay—I'm still at work. You can't just stop by whenever you want, man. It's my job."
I sigh, relenting at that. He's got a point. I'd hate it if he stopped by at my work too. Even if I wasn't actually working, it's still my work. I wouldn't be working right that second, but I might be in a minute or two. And I wouldn't want him there for that. Wouldn't want him laughing at me every time I fucked something up.
"Blink, idiot."
I do. I blink a couple of times to clear my vision and focus on him. "What was I saying?" I ask, frowning now.
"For God's sake—You have questions? Hurry up and ask them before I call security on you. And your sister. I will call her—"
"Kiara said she loved me."
He stares. He stares for so long, I start to consider timing it. It's gotta at least be going on three minutes now. No way it's any less.
Eventually, his eyes narrow skeptically. "In what context?"
I cock my head back. "What do you mean? What other contexts are there?"
He huffs impatiently. "I mean, did she say she loved you or did she say she loved...I don't know—Your eyes."
I slowly start smiling. "Alex...you big flirt—"
"What context?"
I resist the urge to remind him he's no fun. "In the normal context." I shrug. "She said I love you."
"When?" He challenges. "In front of your kid? Doesn't count."
"No, we were alone."
"What were you doing? Had to have been doing something—she didn't say she loved you. Probably said it about or to something else."
I frown. "I mean...I guess that's possible, but it was just us and the room was dark. I mean, we just fucked—"
"Oh—Okay. Out. Get out. I don't even—God, I'm gonna throw up."
I watch him with a dry expression. "Don't be a fuckin' prude." I dismiss with a wave of my hand. "Look, it was just us, the room was dark, we were about to go to sleep." I lay it out without all the unnecessary details since he apparently can't handle them.
He's still grimacing, but he doesn't try kicking me out again. "Okay..." He slowly accepts. I give him a second to get ahold of himself. "Why—" He shakes his head. "Okay, why are you here though? Why should I care about what you two do?" He makes another face of displeasure.
I shrug slowly. "What am I supposed to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, do I say it back or what?"
He blinks. "You didn't say it back?"
Awkwardly, I shift in my seat. "I...no." I mumble.
"Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you and your sister?" He asks, scoffing quietly at me. "Why do you both just step away like that?"
I frown. "I didn't step away." I argue weakly. I kind of did.
"Whatever." He dismisses with a shake of his head, deciding it's not a battle he wants to fight. "Why wouldn't you say it back?" He asks on a deep sigh.
"She wasn't exactly thinking straight. Her bedtime is, like, nine at the latest. It was almost eleven. Plus, the whole us fucking thing. Hazed out mind, you know?"
"Ah." He shakes his head with a sour face and looks away.
"Sorry."
He clears his throat. Coughs a little like there's actually some acid in there. "Okay, uh, well. First of all, you better hope she hasn't told Aaliyah. Otherwise, I have to convince her to give you a shot. And I don't really want to do that."
"Why aren't you home?" I question, unable to help myself. It's about the time it would be had he left work when he was supposed to, and he's sitting here playing cards. "You guys just had another baby, and she's alone." I point out on a frown.
He shakes his head quick. "She's not." He argues. "Lucas is over there still."
"Why're you here?"
He frowns. "Because it's my turn to wash the dishes tonight and I don't want to do it. I'm procrastinating, all right? Leave me alone." He grumbles bitterly.
I roll my eyes at that. He looks back at his computer screen and starts clicking things, probably getting ready to shut everything down. I know he doesn't stay here nearly as late as he used to unless he has to anymore, so I don't worry about it. I just keep thinking while he shuts everything down.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket before I can question him further. I sigh as I shift in my seat to get it out. It turns out to be another text from Kiara. She asks me where I am and if she's supposed to start dinner without me. She adds that Cameron's asking.
"Alex, come on. Tell me what I'm supposed to do."
"I can't just tell you what to do." He dismisses. "That's not how it works. You have to figure it out on your own."
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Okay, but should I tell her I love her too?"
"When did we start talking about shit like this?" He groans tiredly. I'm tempted to laugh at that. "I'm not prepared for girl talk, Noah. Go ask your sister for that." He dismisses.
"'Kay, the whole sexist thing? Yeah. You're doing it again, buddy."
He stands from his chair, glaring at me as he absently buttons the one waist button of his suit jacket. "You wanna talk girl? Talk to Eli." He suggests.
I hum, my eyes drifting off to the window when I spot another bird flying by. "Yeah...What about one of the ones who's not the guy version of my sister? I can only take so much of my sister, Alex."
His eyes narrow. "That's my wife."
"So, basically you married one of your guy friends. Just a girl version."
He huffs and steps away from his desk to grab some stack of papers, throwing them on his desk absently. "Fine. Try James. He's all bartendery. He'll talk to you about girl stuff."
"Bartendery? Awful choice of words, dude. Really."
He groans. "Then, uh—I don't know. Lucas, I guess. He doesn't do girl talk unless it's with Aaliyah, but he likes you so you can try."
"What about Will? He got any good advice?"
"Not for relationships." He shakes his head quick.
I stare for a long moment. "What...kinda advice does he have?"
He stares back at me silently.
"Hm." I look away on a sad sigh. My only real options are Eli and James then. Lucas is mostly Aaliyah's guy. Pretty sure she even lived with him for a hot minute there.
"You want some advice from me though?" Alex asks, pausing at the side of his desk. I hum quietly. "You don't need any from them. Figure it out by yourself. It's cheap if you get your answer from someone else."
"I'm not getting an answer from someone else." I scoff weakly. "I'm just...You know. Trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do." I mumble, scratching absently at my jaw.
"Why don't you know that already?" He asks, looking so genuine about his question that I falter. "You risked the relationship you just fixed with your sister for her. And now, what? You don't know that you love her? Are you serious?"
"Okay, that's not—" I cut myself off to laugh without much humor. "Don't talk to me about my relationship with my sister, first of all. You don't know shit about that, all right?" I firmly point out, the last sense of humor wiping off my face. He clenches his jaw but says nothing about it. "Second, that was for my son. I'm not going to apologize for that. That was for my kid. Not for her, and not for Aaliyah."
He watches me in silence for a long while. Eventually, he looks away. "If you don't know if you love her or not, then you probably don't." He grumbles as he heads for the closed door. He doesn't kick me out of his office first before he leaves, but he does slam the door behind him to passive aggressively tell me he's pissed at me.
He's sensitive.
I shake my head at that and glance about his office instead of leaving it. With a little smile, I get up from the seat I'm in now to go over to the one he was in. The big chair. I sit down in it like I own the place and grin to myself as I scan his desk.
It's messy. Full of papers and shit I don't really get. I spin the chair to the side and duck down to open the first drawer on the desk. That one's full of more papers and shit. I close that one and open the second. That one has some more papers but mostly toys. Toys for some reason. Palm sized model car, a random purple scrunchie, another different color scrunchie, a bracelet that I swear I've seen my sister wear. The rest is all toys that are probably for his kids when they come and visit. I close that door and open the last one. It's bigger so I expect it to be filled with papers to the brim.
But it's not. It's not filled with papers and shit I don't get. I see scotch instead.
It's probably in there for when his boss comes in here to talk business. That's what these guys do, right? They drink after hours and just talk. Aaliyah's mentioned once or twice randomly that he keeps alcohol pretty much everywhere. She likes to joke and say he has a problem, but we all know he doesn't. He likes drinking—yeah—but he knows when to stop. He can resist it. If she tells him no, then he doesn't. He recognizes when it's right to and when it's not on his own. He's smart. He's got it.
I was never that smart. It's kinda why I'm where I am in the first place. I can't recognize when I love a woman who says she loves me or not because I've only been here once, and I was just a kid.
The door swings back open.
"Noah."
I swallow before I shut the drawer. Alex stands there waiting for me, watching me until I've walked out of the room. He shuts the door behind us.