45. Dylan
45
DYLAN
T he next few days passed like I was stuck in a cloud. It was everywhere I looked, in everything I did. This fog of emptiness where everything felt so unclear, like everything was just out of reach. Nothing felt the same. Food lost its appeal and even sleep was only a temporary solace. I hardly heard what was going on in classes, and I didn’t have any desire to play the drums or mix some tunes.
It felt heavy, like every step was filled with a weight I couldn’t shake off. Partly, I didn’t know why it felt this way. I’d seen this coming, probably even before Brad and I made anything official. There was only one way it was destined to end: disaster.
Here I was in the aftermath. Trying to figure out how to pick up the pieces and keep going with my day-to-day life.
That was the problem I’d known going into such a precarious arrangement. Brad and I’s lives were too intertwined. My friends were his friends, the places I hung out, so did he. The skate park, the diner, the quad when it was quiet in the middle of the night. He knew all of them, and I couldn’t shake off the memories of him.
Because that’s all it could be now. We gave it our best shot — or at least a shot — and that was all it was. It didn’t work out. He would never go for someone like me. Not seriously, just as a lay once in a while. His words from that night when he confessed to me haunted my cloudy thoughts, burning into me. Telling me it had always been me.
Yet somehow, I wasn’t enough when it came down to it.
I wasn’t enough for him to want to want me around for his parents or whatever it was. He was worried about nothing, like I was going to embarrass him just by existing around his bubble of sunshine and light. What was it about me that was too much for him to handle? Was it that I wasn’t some frat boy jock like him? Maybe that I was just some skater into music? Was I darkness that polluted his light and he only saw it now?
I didn’t know, but guessed it was all of it. The same thing it always was, I was just disposable. I couldn’t compare to the frat jocks of the world, or the Frankies, or whoever else people fought to keep around.
Maybe it was for the best. After all, I was used to silence. With my home life, maybe it was inevitable that it was going to end up this way. I’d just find myself in ten years living the same life of silence as my dad, only this time I could pretend it was because I was some failed musician. Or maybe not. Maybe I’d end up just working at a gas station and selling slushies to teenagers for the rest of my life.
Not a bad job. Maybe there was a discount involved.
“Dude, you okay?” Theo’s voice cut through the fog, but somehow, it still sounded far away.
I nodded, just once. “Hm? Yeah, yeah, fine.”
There was no way to tell them all what had gone on. Not without admitting to everything, not without opening a whole can of worms. Where did that saying come from, anyway? Why was it a can of worms? Can of chili would be more exciting.
Even without knowing the details, Theo had seen something was up. He’d asked me to come skating with him without even inviting Charlie or Shane or anyone but the two of us. Maybe the conversation from the summer was on his mind, from the way I’d asked about things. Or the way he’d noticed something was up with Brad and me. I’d been hesitant to even accept, but what did it matter? Nothing mattered.
“You’ve been pretty…off lately. Quiet, you know? Just starting to worry,” Theo continued, his voice sounding all gentle as he asked.
I was always quiet, but I didn’t bother to tell him that. I knew what he meant. This was the kind of silence that scared people, the kind of silence I knew too well. The heaviness, the emptiness, the loneliness. “I’ll be fine.”
Not wanting to prolong the awkward conversation, I tossed down my board and rolled off. It was easier to just skate, not to think. Easier said than done, though, because my brain didn’t show any signs of stopping. Fighting through the fog.
What I didn’t count on was how difficult it would be to skate when I was in this cloud of sadness. Everything was hard, but I thought my muscle memory and love of skating would get me through.
So when I grinded along the rail, I still felt in this heavy sort of fog, and lost control. It wasn’t like me. It was a rookie mistake where I didn’t pop the board fast enough and went sprawling on the concrete. Sharp pain shot through my ankle.
Swearing, I grabbed it, sitting down on the grey pavement. At least the pain cut through the cloud — there was that.
“Dyl, you okay?” Theo’s soothing voice came to me again, his brow furrowed as he looked down at me.
I caught my breath and nodded. “Oh, yeah. Just twisted my ankle.” Fuck, that wasn’t the world’s most complex move, and I couldn’t even figure that out. What kind of pathetic figure did I cut? Theo probably thought I was pathetic, grabbing my ankle, looking like some whiny wimp.
My ankle throbbed, and I winced.
“Come on, let’s get you to the bench.” Theo helped me, wrapping his arm around my waist.
I limped over to the bench, pain shooting through my ankle with every step, even though I tried to walk on it. If it was broken, it would be a lot worse, right? Unless the cloud was dulling all my senses. Theo sat me on the cement bench and, saying nothing, he swung my leg up and onto it.
“What’s going on?” he asked, frowning a little.
I licked my lips. It was hard to deny it at this point. Theo knew me too well for me to just lie straight to his face. “Things with Brad are…well, they ended back when I called you. We talked. It wasn’t great.” I didn’t know how to tell him everything, didn’t know if I wanted to give him more details. I hadn’t been able to sort through them myself, hadn’t been able to think hard enough to process anything.
If only this damn fog would clear up.
Theo sat down on the joining bench, pressing his lips together in thought. “Really? That…doesn’t sound right. You two have been so close for so long. I don’t see how this couldn’t work.”
He didn’t want to say it either. If I wasn’t willing to put a name to it, why should he? Maybe it was for the best. I didn’t know if I could bear to hear him call it what it was.
“I don’t think I fit with his…life. Not now, but later.” My voice sounded quiet, even in the fog. I couldn’t look at Theo, pretended that I was looking at my ankle instead. Like I was so invested in figuring out if it was swelling or not. A little.
“Did he say that?”
“He’s mentioned stuff like it before. What his family expects. I said it to him, or…sort of, and he didn’t deny it either.” That look on his face, like he’d been caught. It hurt more than him not having anything to say. Like he was just trying to get away with it as long as he could, like he wasn’t playing with my feelings by deciding to do this.
“Ah…shit, Dyl. I’m sorry, man. I never would have expected that.”
Silence fell between us. Because what could I say to that? That I didn’t expect it either, but we were here anyway? True, but…what good would that do? I didn’t know what was going to happen, didn’t know if Theo and Shane would just break ties with me for good because of it. I’d told Brad to keep them, but I didn’t know how to explain that to Theo when he sat here right in front of me.
After a while, Theo looked at me. “You know they have a game on Friday, right? I think you should go still. I don’t know…what all it means, but you’re our friend. We want you around.”
I blinked. What a bad idea. “I assume by ‘we’ you mean Shane too? Why is he going to a football game?” It wasn’t like him. He didn’t care about sports, only so much as Brad’s football connections got us into other parties sometimes, and sometimes for Alex when he could be bothered.
“It’s a big game, man. Even Shane is making the effort, so…maybe you should come. Just to show support. Maybe there’s some weird way everyone can still be friends.”
Just like Theo, to always want harmony between us, no matter the cost.
I didn’t have the heart or the brain power to tell him I couldn’t do it, to explain why it would be so hard. So I just shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”