Dedicated to ricky1128 for being one of my first reviewers and sticking with me. Hope you'll like this one! :)
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The attic was reached by opening a door and climbing up a poky stairway. Wooden panel and framed pictures of fishing trips, of a time when Simon and Bevan didn't live their lives in the nighttime, during weekends. Step by step more of the attic came into sight. The first person I laid eyes on was Bevan, the younger brother of party holder. Already wasted, his lead lolling against the couch cushions. Simon sitting next to him seemed more lucid.
"Matt O'Neill! Long time no see!"
He got up, and we did that awkward back pat/man hug. A wolf-like grin on his face. His spiky hair dark red from a bottle. Black clothes. A stud glimmering underneath his lip. We looked somewhat alike, but Simon really was the antithesis of me. He said 'Yeah, whatever' all the time and actually meant it. Even having to retake senior year had been a shrug to him. He'd been able to graduate, but that'd been about it. Now he worked weekends at an alternative store in Glen, and spent the rest partying or something like that. I wasn't sure why his parent's didn't throw him out. Out of the kindness of their heart. Or because Simon had threatened to kill them if they did.
Simon and Bevan were still kings of their parents' upper floor. And literary on top of their two grand bedrooms they had this hideout. The only furniture the couch and some random cushions and chairs. Stacks of old jigsaw puzzle boxes, folded nasty looking bedspreads in the eaves. A skylight that I'd been standing smoking many times, looking out over other seemingly sleeping houses. But it was too cold to keep it open now, and the room was already foggy, not aiding my blurred vision. But I couldn't see any neon hoodie, and that was what counted right now.
"Sit down and help yourself," Simon offered after inquiring about my whereabouts. He made a sweeping motion with his arm, like a lord at a banquet. I sat down next to Adam on the floor by the couch. Hard and cold, covered only by a thin carpet. The few cushions already occupied. No one else seemed to be bothered, but by now they probably couldn't care less if they lost a limb to hypothermia. As long as the booze kept flowing, the smoke kept passing from hand to hand, lips to lips.
Adam inhaled deeply, but as soon as he looked the other way I passed it on to the guy sitting on the chair close to me. It all made me think of the prayer circle, wishes instead of weed. Which made me think of Allen's smooth wrist, his pulse underneath my fingers. It pinched only thinking about him now. Hurt. Had he been hurt that I left? Disappointed? Maybe. Maybe it was what he expected. But I wanted him to expect other things from me. Unexpected things. I didn't dodge the bottle that followed, gulping down more than I'd planned. Trying to get away from the thoughts of Allen. And the pinch.
"He's going to ruin everything," I mumbled to no one in particular, my voice thick.
"Who? What?" Adam asked, looking at me confused. His dark eyes already hazy.
"Like my whole life, fucking everything," I said louder, feeling the anxiety appearing from nowhere. The smoke hanging in the air around me didn't help either.
"Yeah, I hate people like that," Adam said empathically, not having a clue what I was talking about. But hey, I didn't even know myself. Adam slung his arm around my shoulder. "Man, I've missed you."
I tried to shrug him off. "Yeah, whatever, get off me."
"When you're away I'm lost." Ade droned, still halfway strangling me. "You're like my wing-man, you should be my wings you know?"
I snorted. Looked over at the passing bottles on the other side of the circle. Locked eyes with a girl who looked familiar. Cassie. A junior. Eyes like grass. I'd met her and a friend of hers this spring at some party with Ade. In line with my new good guy ways I'd not hooked up with her or her friend, even if I clearly could have. Ade had been mystified. Now she smiled and left her place to slip down next to me. Long skinny legs. Long shiny hair. Pretty. I'd hooked up with girls less pretty. I remembered thinking she could have been girlfriend material back then in the spring. But then I hadn't been very interested in having one. And now I'd already found someone else. Who trusted me not to behave exactly like I was behaving now. Whatever. Whatever, whatever. I did care about Lis. But Cassie clearly didn't.
"How many do you have?" She asked, mirroring Allen's question from a week before. She stretched out her hand as if to count them and I flinched. And instead of being pissed or whatever she gave me the 'omg you're so shy, it's so fucking cute when guys are shy' look. Not the first time I received one of those. A joint arrived from the other side of the circle. Cassie smiled again, cuddling closer.
"You wanna do blow backs?" She asked, which basically meant, 'you wanna make out?'.
I shook my head.
"C'mon," she pressed.
"Just leave me alone. I'm not interested."
"Whatever, asshole." She snorted, and got up to sit down next to a more willing Bevan instead. Looked like I'd passed the ultimate perfect boyfriend test. But somehow I didn't care. Whatever. In a Simon way.
The empty space next to me got occupied again quickly. Another warm body next to mine. But I froze when I saw who it was. His face almost delicate, except his somewhat protruding lower lip. His naturally black enviable hair and his slanted eyes gave away his Asian descent. No neon colored hoodie as usual. A black one instead. Sneaky. So fucking typical Lee.
A lazy grin. "Hey Matt."
"Yeah, what's up?" I nodded, trying to inch away from him. But if I moved closer to Adam I'd end up in his lap.
Lee chuckled at my uneasiness. "What's up with you? You're back. Wife let you out?"
I snorted. "We're not married. I do what I want."
"Why haven't you been out then?"
I shrugged. "Got bored."
"And now you're bored with her?" Lee smirked.
"No, just..." I shrugged again. Squinted in the fog. Could anyone see us talking? Could Ade hear us? A bottle arriving from Lee. Vodka. Lovely. I ignored the feeling of déjà vu and lifted it to my mouth. Lee silently looking at me. Unnerving. "What?"
Lee shrugged, still looking at me thoughtfully. "You think he's hot?
"Who?" I asked stupidly. Instead of replying the obvious. 'No, I don't find any guys hot'.
"The red head I keep seeing you with." An ice cold shiver running through me. I would be the one ending up with hypothermia. What did he mean 'kept seeing me with'? I hadn't seen Lee around. And I hadn't been around Allen that much. Or had I? Anxiety, anxiety. I kept myself from fidgeting. Asking him all those questions. Tried to play it cool instead. "So you're stalking me now?"
Lee laughed a little. "You mind?"
His knuckle gently grazing the side of my leg. No fucking way. Not this time. I flew up from the floor, the walls tilting as I stood up.
"I need some air, I'm not used to this anymore," I quickly told Adam.
"But you're my wingman," He whined, trying to hold me back by the arm. I escaped his grasping fingers. Only one thought in my mind. Get out. Get out get out get out. I supported myself against various shoulders and knees on my way out, the walls leaning in to bump against my shoulders. Arms outstretched I stumbled down the narrow staircase, feeling smooth glass, frames bumping against my fingers. One of them unhooked, crashing down the steps behind me. Another thought emerging. This isn't me. But if this wasn't me, then what?
I curled up on the wide step outside the attic door hidden from the people in the upstairs hallway. The air in the upstairs hallway wasn't exactly crispy fresh, but somewhat easier to breathe. The vodka pounding in my head, the second-hand smoke blurring my thoughts in the edges. Making my mind speed up again. My jumbled thoughts escaping like butterflies as I tried to catch them. Butterflies, Birds. Birds Birds. Wing-man. A man with wings. Angels. I rubbed my hands against the raspy carpet, feeling the anxiety slowly drowning me. My body paralyzed. I wanted to get out, wanted silence, the good kind of silence, but I couldn't find the energy to move. It was like I didn't know how to anymore. Like when I was lying there on the grass/sand in my dreams, the fire burning out, the coyotes looming closer. Waiting to catch me the minute the flames waned, the minute I gave up.
"It's ok," I mumbled to myself," it's ok, it's only your mind, you're doing fine." I swallowed, but my mouth was sandy dry. Hugged my arms around my legs but I still felt cold, my palms clammy. Tried to breathe in a square or circle or triangle or whatever fucking shape recommended in those panic attack exercises. I'm doing great. Not. It'll be better tomorrow. But what did that matter if I died tonight? My heart racing now. I just wanted air, I just needed to get out. All I could do was hide my face in my knees. Try to hide even if I knew it was all inside. Breathe. I'm doing great. I'm doing great. The coyotes clawing after me now, darkness waiting to enveloping me.
"Matthew? Are you ok?" I cracked open my eyes, squinting to find Allen looking worriedly at me. Lit from behind, his curls like a golden halo around his face. Heaven-sent. I'd been saved.
"C'mere," He stretched out his hand and I took it, got up on shaky legs. For a couple of seconds his hand in mine and it was warm and dry and comforting. Exactly like I'd imagined. I clumsily leaned against the wall, my head bouncing felt like it was going to split in two. I covered my face with my hands. "The fucking vodka. my head's killing me," I slurred, my speeded up thoughts slowed down by my un-cooperating tongue.
"If this is how you get, then why do you drink it?" Ugh. I'd feel a lot better if he could spare me his condescending little attitude.
"I'm like half-Russian. I'm supposed to be able to drink vodka."
"Obviously you're not." Allen remarked dryly.
I wobbled, mashed my face against the wall. So fucking embarrassing. "You can go now, I'll manage."
His hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him. "I won't leave you alone," he said gently. No signs of anger visible on his face. "I'll get you home, ok?" He had such nice hands. He had such a nice voice too. Woolly warm and slightly scratchy and I just wanted it knitted into a blanket to hide under when he wasn't around. I always wanted him around. Close like this. Feel this amazing. Except. No. Wait. I wasn't feeling amazing at all. The cold sweat, my heart started racing. The nausea, the nausea. I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed again. "I'm going to be sick."
"Ok," Allen nodded, looking across the hallway determinately. "Ok."
A click as Allen locked the bathroom door behind him. I had no fucking idea how he managed to get us there since it was usually occupied with people making out and throwing up, but I wouldn't ask. I was just blissfully thankful for it.It smelled citrusy. I leaned my head against the wall, pressed my palms against the cool porcelain tiles. Everything white and clean. Like heaven. All the freshness numbed the nausea. The light kinda hurt my eyes though. Allen awkwardly leaning against the sink. Looking at me all concerned. Everybody always concerned.
"Did you take anything?"
I shook my head. "There was just pot."
"I'm getting worried though, can you overdose one that?" Such a stupid question. I leaned my head against the cold tiles and swallowed again. Either my heart was going to stop or I would throw up. I thought about the coyotes from my dream, they still seemed so real, like I would be able to reach out my hand and pet them. Maybe it meant I was going to die.
"You know there was this girl," I started tentatively, "who took an overdose, or maybe it wasn't an overdose, but she jumped from a window of the boarding house at Oakland Parks and that's why it's called OD, did you hear that?" Allen nodded.
"I took an overdose to once, or actually it wasn't an overdose, it was more like I took a lot of pills because I wanted to die, but then I didn't want to anymore."
"What?" Allen's voice so small and unbelieving and far away. Wasn't sure why my messy find thought it necessary to tell him that. Like I needed him to know in some strange way. I swallowed again. I wasn't going to be sick. For the heart, nothing was certain yet. I thought about the coyotes and vultures and maggots and the boarding house with the flowers and candles, we all went to see it of course. Everybody did.
"She jumped a year before me, you know, but I thought it would be seriously stupid I mean, because what if you jump and you don't die, you just become paralysed like from the neck down, such a fail. But I didn't die either so yeah. But that's good because I didn't want to, but sometimes I wonder because life is so fucking hard sometimes..." My voice cracked. I thought of the guy who wrote a book just by blinking, a life lying inside a body that wouldn't obey, just lying there. But wasn't life like that anyways. You wanted something and then your body didn't obey, or your friends told you to do differently or your mom forbade you. That's why it felt empty inside sometimes because it might as well be, it didn't make any difference what you really wanted. You were still just dragged along.
"Hey, don't say that. Please don't say that." Allen's hands on my shoulders again, making me turn to him. "You have great friends, a great family. And you're smart, I'm sure you'll get where you want to be, you'll see..." He babbled. Allen, Allen. With his wide open face, so innocent and goodhearted. All warm and fuzzy on the inside like candyfloss. He didn't know what it was like to have a dark swirling undercurrent inside, pulling every good feeling to the ocean floor. But I liked that about him. Weird.
"You really don't know shit about anything, do you?" I interrupted kindly. "You know it's weird because I really should loathe you, what with your niceness and how you're like always talking but I don't. Instead it's like I know you but not like ordinarily, like at a whole different level like subconscious or meta-physical or something..." I felt myself space out. Reality slipping. Like I knew him from some other time. Like I'd wandered away from that desert in my dreams, and ended up lying in a wheat field instead. Farm boy Allen's red hair against glistening golden hay, his arm slung over his face, shielding it from the sun, the sky above him as blue as his eyes. No need for a fire to keep the coyotes at bay. I couldn't even feel their presence. Maybe I would survive. I blinked as the cold artificial light returned. Present-day Allen looking at me strangely.
"Do you believe in reincarnation?" I asked stupidly.
He smiled softly, shook his head. "No." Of course not. People like him believed in a smooth white citrus scented heaven. Void of people like me. But right now I couldn't care less. I leaned my head against his shoulder wrapped my arm around and I wasn't prepared for it, but when I smelled his neck it was like I'd dipped my face into the Garden of Eden or something because he smelled amazing. Like cinnamon and vanilla and spring leaves and seashells and hot chocolate. Like everything that was good with the world.
Don't push me away. I begged internally. Don't tell me it's wrong, don't ask me why. And he didn't push me away. Just traced his hands along my arms, gently prying them free from his shoulders, gently letting them fall to my sides, gently tipping me upright, his thumbs just below my collar bones. When I dared to look up he was looking at me in his intent way, for what felt like the first time in forever and I wanted him to always look at me like that. Do something. Saysomethingsaysomethingsaysomething.
"You're...you have the bluest eyes ever."
"Ey, lil' one," Allen said tenderly, his blanket voice softer than usual. I always wanted him to talk to me like that. "You're so drunk."
"Sorry." I mumbled meekly.
He hushed smiling. "Let's just get you home, yeah?"
I nodded, leaning my forehead on his shoulder again. He could take me anywhere.
I had imagined angels like the ones at the Halloween party. With white dresses and glimmering skin. Feathered wings and long fluttering eyelashes. I'd been wrong. Angels had plaid shirts and strong shoulders and necks that smelled of paradise lost. Allen's hand steady on my hip as he guided me down the stairs. I leaned in to him. My feet tripping a little bit more than needed.
As soon as we had descended onto solid ground he let go, simply holding on to my elbow and tugging me along. The air heavier, smelling of sweat and spilled drinks and smoke. I felt almost nauseous again. People pressing on from all sides, keeping me upright. I heard Trish voice high-pitched, like a little toy animal squeaking and we stopped. I wrapped my arm around Allen's neck, wanting to hide my face again and disappear into amazingness, But this time he kinda forcefully removed my hands, pulling me away. Trish laughing, familiar voices talking. I still just wanted to disappear. Pass out into darkness.
Suddenly we were hiking across soft hills. The people thinning out. I blinked, my vision somewhat clearer. Allen shaking me gently. We were back in the over-flooded guest room.
"Matt, Matthew? You ok?"I nodded numbly, still blinking.
"Where did you put your jacket? I can't find it. Like what brand is it?"
"Dunno," I mumbled, sinking down on the bed. Picking idly among the mountain of jackets piled high. Did some people have ugly jackets or what? Allen digging into the jackets to my right, holding up one. I shook my head, and he grabbed another one. I shook my head again, feeling guilty. It was my fault he had come in the first place. It was my fault he had to leave. Maybe he'd rather spent the night with Kat and her bedazzled bare shoulders. Probably. I had said too much. Done too much. But he was too nice. As always. All these stupid thoughts. Wished I could just get away from them. Get away from the words lining up. The questions. I needed to know for sure.
"You like Kat?" I asked.
Allen looked at me oddly, before laughing a little. "No, I mean, she's nice, but I don't, you know, like her."
"You like Mel?" Allen shook his head still smiling, showing me another jacket. I shook my head carefully again.
"You like anyone, like here or in school or wherever?"
"No not really." Allen replied lightly. Face focused, eyes searching in the pile. His answers didn't really help. I still felt the anxiety flooding back. And I couldn't hold it in. The words. Because somehow I needed him to know.
"I like you."
Allen looked at me quickly in that unreadable way of hi and I wished I could read it. Wished it wasn't all a blur. I let myself fall face forward onto the bed, let an avalanche of jackets bury me, the anxiety drown me and finally, finally passed out.
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