A/N: My mom thinks I'm recovered but doesn't even know what recovery is, and still doesn't let me use knives or scissors without her laughing about it.
Like, mom, please. Please shut your fucking mouth.
***
"I have to go to this stupid thing at some strangers house," I grumbled into my reciever, throwing on pants with one hand, trying as desperately as possible to not fall over. The shade of blue contrasted sharply with the lime green of my sweatshirt, and I tried to ignore my sudden smile, knowing Josh bought it for me. "I really, really don't want to go. I'm too anxious for things like this, Josh. What did I do to deserve this? I don't wanna go."
"Look, babe. Don't you think it's better to just do what she says?"
"On occasion," I replied, my nose scrunched in displeasure. "God, I swear, ever since she found out about that, she's made it her goal to make me do things I really don't want to do."
"Who knows? Maybe you'll have fun."
"I'd literally rather die than listen to people talk about organs and body parts for hours and hours." I whined. I was painfully aware of the fact that I sounded whiny and annoying, but he didn't seem to get as aggravated with me as I thought. Truth be told, I just got nervous a lot, and I didn't know how to deal with it. Or anything. And I knew no one knew how to deal with me, and that's why I refrained from telling most people about myself.
He snorted. "Too bad I'm not going to let you die."
"Too bad, indeed," I sighed, jamming the phone between my shoulder blade and my ear. Eventually, I was going to have to get my shoes on, and I could hear my mom slamming things downstairs, because she was mad at me for moving slower than we wanted. I couldn't tell what she was saying, but grumbles of my name, accompanied by heavy-handed gestures, could clearly be heard.
"Hey," he scolded. "Don't think like that."
"I can't help it." I shrugged. "I can't believe she's making me do this. On a Saturday. I mean, come on." One shoe was on, and another was still off. It sat next to my sock-clad foot with a look of such unimportance and boredom, and that's exactly how I felt. Bored and insignificant. "I don't want to do this."
"I wish I could go with you, but seeing as your mom already hates me, I can't. But I want to," he said.
"Tyler, if you don't get the fuck down the stairs, I'm going to ground you, and make you spaghetti every. Single. Night." My mom screamed suddenly, and my cheeks turned red in embrasssment.
"I have to go," I muttered.
"It's alright," he replied lightly. "Try and have fun, okay?" He said. "Keep an open mind." I groaned, and he laughed shortly.
"Bye, Josh."
"Bye, Ty."
I could hear her footsteps on the stairs, heavy with impatience and anger. Before I could even hang up the phone, she was poking her head into my room, and I was attempting to actually hang up. She shook her head indignantly, her ponytail swishing back and forth, walking towards me with her hand out. "Phone. Now."
"What? No," I protested. "Why?"
"I really just wish you'd listen to me," she said, yanking my phone from my grasp. "You know, I'm considering taking your phone for a week, just to see how you'd do without your boyfriend, or whatever."
My eyes hardened at her words, and I kept the eye contact with her, despite the anger and harsh words I wanted to throw in her face. "And you wonder why I never talk to you? That's why."
She laughed, throwing her head back. "Great. It's official." She said, waving the device at me. "One week. See you downstairs," she smiled, going to walk away. She didn't get very far until the phone dinged with a new message, and there was only two people that ever actually bothered to message me, one of them being her, and I rolled my eyes as she looked at the screen eagerly.
"How sweet," she said, her voice dripping with faux cheeriness. I could imagine her tone melting and puddling around my half-dressed feet, and I kept my gaze. "He told you to have fun." She informed, putting a hand over her heart. The mockery in her voice literally made me sick to my stomach. "Once again, see you down stairs. And put your shoe on."
I had to stay calm. I needed to stay calm. I didn't want to get too worked up before I actually got there, because that would make a terrible and awkward time for everyone. And as much as I disliked my mom right now, I didn't want to make her look bad in front of her co-workers as much as I wanted to, want to.
~~~
Whenever my mom and I have to ride in a car together, it's always painfully tense. We can ever agree on what to keep on the radio, and her driving habits make me nervous. I haven't even seen her use a blinker in a long, long time, and I'm assuming it had something to do with my father. It made her careless and annoying, but, as far as I was concerned, that didn't warrant bad driving.
"You're going to behave." She hissed lightly, parking in a crowded driveway without even thinking about it. I don't know how the lot of us planned to leave whenever this was done, but I knew that this was a large house with a nice lawn, and skid marks were going to be less than appreciated if the time came. "You're going to behave, and be polite. And take that sweatshirt off. It's not even cold."
I looked down at what she was wearing, which was a light yellow shirt that didn't hug her body as much as she thought it did, along with white jeans I didn't know she owned, and I hated that my mom was pretty, because she was. And people told her that all the time, and it usually just filtered back to her asking herself why Dad left her if he was so gorgeous. It was pointless, and gave her an ego. Sure, it didn't last for long, but it was still terrible to listen to.
"Absolutely not." I stated, laughing. "I can wear whatever I want."
"Tyler, so help me-"
Before she could continue, I hopped out of her car, knowing she would eventually win, and that I would have to take it off. I really, really didn't want to do that, because just the thought made a lump grow in my throat. So I shut the car door behind me and walked up to the porch, my eyes cast to the too-green grass. I hated this place already, and I could hear the voices inside. Are these the people my mom spends time with?
"You want to get your ass kicked, don't you?" My mom asked from behind me, moving to grab my arm tightly. Somehow, her short nails reached through the heavy sweatshirt fabric, and I whipped my eyes to hers. "If you embarrass me, I'll ground you for the rest of your life."
I smiled at her, my free arm going to knock on the door. Her eyes blazed with something I couldn't even explain, and I knew I was going to in some serious crap when we got home. "I've got less than a year, and than I'll be out of your house. Okay?" I grinned. "If I can't wait, so can you."
The door swung open, and my mom's grip released almost automatically. A tall man with dark hair and a sophisticated aura stood in the doorway. I could tell he was one of the doctors by the way he smiled, and by his movements as he welcomed us inside of his house, full of people and words and water with lemon.
"Hey, Karen," he smiled. "This must be your son? Thomas?"
"Tyler," I choked out, nodding.
"Well, hello, Tyler." He stuck his hand out, and it could have covered my face, if he'd let it. Despite the size, I shook it slowly, and tried not to show the pain flaring up my arm with his tight grip. "Nice to meet you."
I nodded back, and moved past him, leaving the two of them in the doorway.
~~~
It took an hour of me sitting in the kitchen for me to get bored out of my mind.
I was beyond tired of listening to people talk about things I really didn't care about, and I discreetly moved towards the staircase of the house. It was large and very, very grand, much like the entire house, and I was glad no one was watching me creep through this house.
At the end of the stairs, there was a huge hallway, with a lot of doors on it, and I moved slowly in my socks. My mom made me take off my shoes when she caught up with me, and so my footsteps were quiet and cautious on the carpet. They had wood floors on the bottom floor, and carpet on top, and I thanked the material change as I walked. And there wasn't anyone up here, that I knew of, and because I was very, very bored, I picked a random door to walk into.
None of the doors were decorated, and I prayed no one was behind them. And maybe a twinge of guilt poked at me when I cracked the door open, but it dissipated when I saw someone with dark hair, snorting cocaine. They were hunched over a desk, with a red straw up their nose, and my eyes were wide and apologetic as I watched them.
"Oh, um."
His hair was wavy and shaggy, and he had a big nose, and shook his head before taking a short breath through his nose, smiling up at me lazily. "Want some?"
Slowly, I shook my head, going to shut the door again. "No, don't go anywhere. I'm lonely."
I didn't know him. And he had cocaine. I probably shouldn't be here, but he looked harmless enough, so I pushed the door open even more, wondering why on earth I was still standing here.
"You're doing drugs in a house full of doctors," I said slowly, shutting the door behind my body. I leaned against it, my eyebrows raised in curiosity and confusion. "Brave of you."
"I live here," he laughed, opening a plastic bag, and shaking the white contents already in it. If I was an idiot, I would have assumed it was salt or something stupid, but I watched him swipe the remains of what was on the desk back into the ziploc bag, and rolled my eyes. "My dad's the one opening the door for people. Talking to everyone that shows up. I'm supposed to be down there."
"And why aren't you?"
"Because. My dad thinks me being around his doctor friends is gonna make me grow some ambition. Mostly the whole bullshit thing about education parents love to give."
He looked about my age, and I knew he didn't care about anything just by looking at him. He looked very, very trashed, and he motioned to the floor. So I sat.
"And why're you in my house?" He asked. "Not that I mind."
"My mom works with your dad, I guess."
His room smelled like drugs and cigarettes and desperation, but it was a fresh and light smell at the same time. He smiled, nodding his head as he shifted through the drawers of his desk. "Makes sense." He said, rolling his eyes. "Did she make you attend this? I know you didn't wanna go. It's all bullshit."
For some reason, it was much easier to talk to someone under the influence than to someone that wasn't. "Then why did you ask?"
His eyes moved up to mine, and I watched his hand skillfully reach for two cigarettes out of the small box. He tossed me one, a lighter following, before standing up, walking into his bathroom. "Light that for me, will you?" He asked lowly. "Would rather my dad smell cigarettes than coke, am I right?"
I didn't reply. Just looked down at the object on my thigh, trying to figure out what to do with it. Truth be told, I didn't wanna even touch it, but he was looking at me like I was crazy while trying to turn on the shower, and so I picked it up. It felt foreign and smooth, and the lighter felt hot. Like it was buzzing with electricity.
"You ever had a cigarette before, kid?"
"What's your name?" I asked him, looking up at his bleary eyes.
"I," he started, and I watched the steam start. "Am the great and powerful Murphy Lawson, and I need you to light that cigarette right about now."
He lit his, and it erupted into miniature flame for less than a second. Waving it around, he let some of the smoke fall through the air, before he raised it to his lips, and breathed in as deeply as possible, and than exhaling. I've never watched anyone smoke, and it was a strange and confusing thing to witness.
Taking the lighter in my hand, I moved it to the stick of pure sickness, before turning the lighter on and watching it come alive in my hand. Nerves almost caused me to drop it, but I kept it in my grip, moving the flame to the cigarette itself.
"There ya go," he smiled, nodding. "You, you random boy in my house, are helping me hide my drugs from my dad. Aren't you proud?"
"Where's your mom?"
"Dead. Where's your dad?"
"I don't know. You see him, make sure you ask."
He took another deep breath of the smoke. I could see his chest rise and fall with it. "I like you, random boy."
"I'm Tyler."
"Are you?"
"I think so, Murphy."
~~~
Something I forgot to include, was that I knew Murphy was dying. His face was sunken in and his eyes were dull, but that smirk laid gentle and calm on his face. He looked brittle, though. Like if you touched him, he was going to cave in. I didn't want him to die, because he seemed cool enough, but I knew he was going to. It might have had something to do with his drug use, and maybe not. I didn't know, and it didn't matter.
But he gave me his phone number, it was more of a joke than anything, telling me to call him if I wanted quality drugs. He told me I didn't look like a drug user, and that he wasn't a dealer, that my hands were too smooth, and then told me he wanted to live in a cloud, and then told me I should go back downstairs. It was a confusing and enlightening event, but my mom was still mad when we got home.
~~~
Unlike the first car ride, my mom was silent the entire time. She let me put what I wanted on the radio, even though I could tell I was pushing it, and didn't tell me to uncross my legs when I crossed them. She hadn't even looked at me until we got inside, and my palms were sweaty with nerves.
"I do a lot for you, you know." She said lowly, voice slow and emotionless. "So how dare you embarrass me like that?" My eyebrows raised in confusion, and I moved away from the front door, knowing anyone outside it could clearly hear her screaming if that's what it came down to. "In front of the people I work with? The people I work for?"
"How did I embarrass you?" I asked. "I didn't even see you until it was time to go." I shook my head, going to walk around her, like I've trained myself to do. But, once again, her hand caught on my arm, and she yanked me to directly in front of her, her eyes on fire with a strange sense of remorse and hatred. I don't know if it was me she hated, but she hated something.
"It's that stupid Josh kid, isn't it?" She hissed. "Isn't it?"
"You know, I don't really understand what you're asking me."
"I don't want you seeing him."
"Oh, now you're just being unrealistic."
She laughed. "Am I?" Her voice bubbled with anger, and I could feel her words like hot coals. "You weren't even gay before we got here-"
"That makes no sense."
"-you've never acted this way before, and I've never seen you be so disrespectful to me. So if it's not him, than what is it?"
"It might have something to do with the fact that you don't ever actually listen to me, and if you make homophobic comments than I automatically lose all respect for you. I mean, come on, Mom. This is simple." I said slowly, yanking my arm away from her all over again. "You always talk about how I should listen to you, but you never actually listen to me. Conversations shouldn't be one-sided."
"I still have your phone."
"Of course you do."
***
A/N: If you guys don't want double updates just tell me and I'll stop :-)) I'll edit later, as usual.