Page 83 of Unbearable
If I text you, don’t answer.
I’m at a loss. How exactly did we end up here? Tyler and I of all people, someone I’ve known for over half my life. I didn’t understand most of what he said when he was here, or why he said it. I’m still in a spin going over and over his words and actions.
Staring at the mess that is my room, I pick up my bookshelf first and then my destroyed laptop, placing it on my desk. Stupid jerk. Why did I let him leave? The look in his eyes, the unsteady darkness in them haunts me. I shouldn’t have let him. I know he wasn’t drunk but something wasn’t right.
It’s hours later and I’m drifting to sleep when my phone buzzes on my desk and I jump, my hands scrambling to pick it up, thinking it’s Tyler.
It’s not. It’s Rawley. Fucking Rawley of all people after a month of not hearing from him. The last time he called me was a few days after Christmas, apologizing for not coming and then I saw him on New Year’s at the bar. But not since then. He’s starting to remind me of Tyler.
Rawley: Let me in.
I never heard a knock but I open the door and see my brother, looking like hell. His hat’s pulled down low, with hair sticking out erratically around the edges and his dark brown eyes are sunken in by nights of sleeplessness.
“You look like shit.”
He chuckles, removing his jacket and setting his guitar on the floor. He then flops down on my bed on his back, his shirt pulling up over his stomach to reveal he certainly hasn’t been eating either. “Yeah, well, I feel worse than I look if you can believe that.”
“I can.” Sitting on the floor beside the bed, I lay my head back against the mattress. His hand flops over, rubbing the top of my head.
His breathing is light when he asks, “Why is your room such a mess?”
Rawley knows me and to have a messy room is like the world ending for me. I hate anything out of place. “Tyler. Why are you here? It’s like four in the morning.”
He sighs, rolling over so he’s in a curled position. He smells like a bar: stale beer, cheap perfume and cigarettes. “It’s five… or something… but I was playing at a bar just off campus, went home with some chick who lives in this dorm and thought I’d come say hi.”
I turn and look at him, my chin on the mattress giving him a disapproving glare only a sister can give. “Or you wanted some place to crash for a little while and didn’t want to stay in her room?”
“There’s that too.”
Patting the pockets of his jeans, he pulls out a joint and raises an eyebrow. I wouldn’t say we do this often, but Rawley was the first person I got high with in high school.
I nod. “Sure, why not. I don’t have class tomorrow.”
Sitting up, he backs up so he’s propped against the wall and I sit beside him. His lighter flicks, the joint glowing red and orange for a moment. He hands it to me.
Staring at him, I wonder what the fuck is going on in his head since his outburst at the shop, and then New Year’s.
“What the hell is going on with you?”
Shaking his head, Rawley takes a hit off the joint and then reaches for his guitar. “Nothing.” He says this as if it’s no big deal but I know it is. “Seriously though, what’s going on here?” He motions around the room.
“I don’t even know. Tyler had a bit of a temper tantrum. I wanted him to love me, and he wouldn’t… and then I found out why and then he wanted me and I said no.”
My gaze moves to his, the early morning sun starting to peek into my room lighting the side of his face. He hasn’t shaved in weeks and has a busted-up lip, and a hickey on his neck. I want to ask, but I don’t because it’s probably something stupid like a bar fight.
He’s nodding, seeming to be listening to me, but then focusing his attention on his guitar. It’s then he begins to play the opening notes of “Crazy Bitch” and then turns to me smiling and bobbing his head. He thinks he’s being funny but I want to punch him in his face.
“Why would you play that fucking song?”
Rawley smiles and I kind of hate him for it. Raising his hand, he scratches the back of his head and pushes his guitar away. “You’re being a crazy bitch.”
I don’t even crack a smile. “I am not, Rawley.”
When he laughs, I don’t. I can’t. I’m on the verge of tears and I can’t believe I’m sitting here smoking a joint with him.
“Hey, I’m just trying to make you laugh.” He bumps my shoulder when he passes the joint. “It’s what twins are for.”
I take the joint next and do the same, only it doesn’t offer me the relief I’m hoping it will. “I screwed up with Tyler. I told him I didn’t want to be with him when I really do.”
