13. Shane
Shane
Irode around for an unreasonably long time after Nik went inside. The moment she walked away, it was like the actuality of our situation swooped in like a summer thunderstorm, the sky turning dark and soaking everything, despite the sun beating down on my face.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I keep telling myself I’m gonna pump the brakes, then I just announced to half the town that I wasn’t sharing her. What’s wrong with me?
She looked at me like I was her hero when in reality, I’m the reason they’re talking about her to begin with.
If she’s with me, they’ll always be talking about her.
It’ll be how she’s wrapped up with the wrong guy.
How she threw her whole life away for a junkie.
I’ve been a piece of shit most of my life, but dragging her down with me is a new low.
I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to drown out that voice for the entirety of my workday when I decide to clock out and head up to my apartment an hour early.
I toss my keys on the table and kick my shoes off at the door before making a beeline for my room as my chest squeezes and my head pounds.
Dropping to my knees at the end of my bed, I can’t help but laugh to myself. I’m praying to a different god than most that kneel at the foot, aren’t I? Reaching under the bed, I pull out the shoe box and toss off the lid, staring down at my higher power. The one thing that makes life worth living.
Or tolerable?
I don’t know.
I pull out a baggie of white pills, and a wave of calm washes over me just by having them in my hand. What’s that thing where that scientist had the dogs trained to know when their food was coming?
That’s me.
My bell is the sliding of the cardboard box across the hardwood. The lid hitting the floor. The crinkle of the plastic.
I place the lid back on the box and slip it under the bed before heading back to the kitchen.
Once when I was like fourteen, I overheard my mom talking to one of her friends. The lady told her that her daughter, who was in the grade below me, had a crush on me.
She thought I was cute, I guess.
My mom told her to keep the girl away from me, that I wasn’t the kind of kid you want your daughter dating.
I still remember how bad that stung.
But it shouldn’t have.
She was right. I don’t know how she knew even then, but that’s the god’s honest truth. I’m the guy you warn your daughter about. The one you pray she never runs into at a bar on a Saturday night in college and throws her future away for.
Gritting my teeth, I place two pills on the counter and pull a glass down from the cabinet.
They give under the pressure when I press the bottom down on them. I mash a few more times until they’re nothing more than dust.
This right here is why she’s better off without me.
I ruin everything I touch.
After snorting the tablets, I head to the couch.
It’s un-fucking-fortunate that I love her because it’d be a whole lot easier to do what I have to do if I didn’t.
If I were capable of being anything other than this, I’d give her everything she wanted.
If I were that guy, I’d buy her a house on the lake.
I’d leave for work in the morning, and she’d never question what I was doing while I was gone.
We’d have a couple of kids, and I’d hang a tire swing from a big tree in the yard.
After dinner, we’d take the kids out there, and I’d find myself staring at her in the evening sunlight, pushing them on the swing.
She’d be the only thing I’d need to get through the day.
But I’ll never be that guy.
My chest feels like it’s on fire, and I sniff, watching the hand on the clock above the TV. It doesn’t usually take long for the pills to grab hold and the pressure to release, but they don’t seem to be working today.
My foot bounces.
My skin crawls.
Why isn’t it working?
“Ugh!” I shout, running my hands through my hair and tugging at the root.
Fuck it.
I jump back up, open the window above the sink, and pull out my cigarettes before plucking out the joint I stuffed in there this morning. Lighting it, I stare out at the building across the street.
Weed doesn’t do much these days, but it’s better than nothing, I guess. None of it does enough. None of it makes me forget.
It’d be cool if I could just forget, wouldn’t it?
Forget I’m a worthless fuckup.
Forget I’m an addict.
Forget I love her.
When I’m done with my joint. I fill the glass with water before popping another tablet into my mouth and washing it down.
Maybe it’ll kill the pain of the conversation I have to have with her when she gets off—Wait.
What time is it?
Pain pills don’t help with that kind of pain, do they?
Do they help anything?
They make it fade.
It… all… fades.
Something heavy lands on my stomach, startling me awake.
“You better hope to God Dad doesn’t get ahold of you before he cools off!”
My head pounds as Gabe’s helmet rolls off me and smacks the floor. “What?”
“You ditched an hour early, then you missed our club meeting. Your ass is grass, my friend.”
“Fuck,” I groan. “What time is it?”
“Ten. Clubhouse’s packed tonight.” He shrugs. “I’m not feeling it.”
I shoot up, suddenly wide fucking awake. “Ten? PM?”
He perches on the arm of the couch. “Yeah. Why?”
“Motherfucker!” I jump up, scrambling to the door. “I was supposed to pick Nik up from work hours ago!”
As I slip my shoes on, he says, “Well, I’m sure she’s not there anymore. She could have probably walked home by now.”
I rush out of the apartment anyway, not stopping until I hit the bottom of the stairs.
My thoughts finally clear as I come to a halt, my hand still gripping the railing.
Gabe’s right, she’s not still gonna be at the diner, but surely, she didn’t walk home. She’d have found someone to pick her up, right?
I pull out my phone.
She texted me a couple of hours ago saying her mom picked her up. That was after a string of missed calls and texts that ranged anywhere from where are you? Are you okay? To Goddamn it, Shane. You were supposed to pick me up!
Yeah. I’m a fucking piece of shit.