"Kit-Kat you head on upstairs," Carlos ordered, standing up. His tone showed assertiveness. It was streaked in familiarity and suggested a false intimacy. Any other time I'd have challenged his tone, but I was smart enough to play along. Carlos had maneuvered his body between the stairs where I stood and his unwelcome guest. I was so used to seeing him sitting down on his broken-down couch, it took me aback. "I'll be up as soon as I finish with Antonio."
"Okay," I said, shooting him a smile and a small wink that suggested playful, though I felt anything but.
Carlos gave me a small nod of approval. Antonio missed it since his eyes were still glued to me. I felt dirty standing there. Keeping my smile in place, I turned around and forced myself to slowly walk up the stairs. I could feel their eyes on me with each step I took. I mentally counted each one down. Ten steps and I'd be safe in my apartment. Nine more to go and I could forget the flicker of fear I'd seen in Carlos' eyes. Six steps left. I was halfway there. The urge to bolt up the last remaining stairs was so strong I almost felt physically ill from it. Two steps. I was now lost in the shadows. The adrenaline coursing through my body took over and I took both steps as one and hurried the remaining distance to my apartment.
I fumbled in my bag, searching for my keys. My fingers grazed my wallet and lipgloss, but my keys eluded them. For a terrible moment I wondered if I'd left them in my car. Panic began to claw its way up my throat. If I'd left them in my car there was no way I would be able to force myself to go back down the stairs. Full-fledged freak-out was beginning to settle in when my fingers finally closed around my keys. I was tempted to kiss them but figured that could wait until I was safely in my apartment.
After a few false attempts, I was able to get the key to slide into the lock, despite the trembling of my fingers. Pushing my door open, I slid inside and slammed it behind me. My flimsy lock mocked me as I slid it into place. I should have replaced it like Dad wanted me to. Eyeing the door, now I saw all its flaws. One hard shove and the door would easily swing open.
Dropping my bag on the counter, I turned to the upholstered chair that used to sit in my granny's house. Growing up it had been my favorite spot to curl up with my sketchpad in hand. It was as deep as it was wide and covered in material that had gone soft from years of wear. Granny had given it to me when I returned from my trip abroad. At the time it was her subtle way of offering me a place to seek comfort.
With some effort I managed to push the heavy chair across the room. I was swearing by the time I shoved it flush against my front door. I felt safer as soon as it was in place. No one would be getting through my door tonight.
I was halfway through my shower and shampooing my hair when it hit me how ridiculous I was being. I'd most likely imagined Carlos' apprehension from earlier. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he and Antonio were screwing with me. I bet once I left they'd both gotten a big laugh over my skittish response.
As I dried off I told myself I was probably right. Tomorrow I'd see Carlos and he'd tease me for my reaction. Ridiculous or not, Granny's heavy chair remained in front of the door through the night, and I slept with my bedroom lamp on.
Carlos was missing from his porch the next day when I finally left my apartment. Though I was convinced my theory about him messing with me the night before was correct, I still dragged my feet leaving my apartment. I first argued that I needed to clean it up, though it really wasn't all that messy. That didn't stop me from throwing myself into cleaning with gusto. Once the apartment was cleaned I sat on my couch going through the stack of stuff I'd tossed on my coffee table. Most of it was junk mail that normally would be tossed without opening, but today I spent an insane amount of time going through each piece. Finally, when there was nothing else to go through, I forced myself to scoot Granny's chair away from the door.
I paused at the top of the stairs, listening intently for any indication that Carlos had company again as I left my apartment. Not hearing anything, I slowly crept down the stairs like some burglar. My brain taunted me, telling me I was being ridiculous. I reasoned that I was being cautious. Cautious was good.
All my worry was for naught when I finally made my way down the stairs and saw no one was waiting for me. As I walked by his empty apartment I couldn't help the small flicker of doubt at my earlier theory. Carlos never left his patio, but it was possible he was in his apartment. A simple knock on his door would put all my doubts to rest. He'd really laugh at me when he opened his door. He'd know his ploy last night had gotten to me.
I stood in front of his door, which sat in the shadows beneath the stairs, for a full minute, debating whether I should knock. Shaking my head, I turned away from his door and ran headlong into something solid standing in the shadows.
Large hands fumbled for my arms. Adrenaline eclipsed the fear I knew I should have felt. Without giving any conscious thought to it, my hand closed into a fist and struck out near my perpetrator's throat as I'd been trained. My fist was tiny but it struck with accuracy. A grunt of pain rang through the air as I moved to a fighting stance, waiting for him to come at me again.
"Kat," the perpetrator gasped in a familiar voice.
Eleven
My eyes squinted trying to make out the person I'd hit.
"Brian, what the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack," I said as we stepped out of the shadows.
Brian clutched his throat. "So you decided to remove my larynx because I scared you?"
"I didn't know it was you," I huffed. "Why did you sneak up behind me like that?"
"Kat, I weigh two hundred and thirty pounds. I don't think it's possible for me to sneak up on anyone. I saw you heading back here and wondered where you were going. Isn't this that guy's apartment?" he asked, saying "guy's" like it was a dirty word.
"Yeah, I needed to ask him a question," I lied, turning my back on Carlos' apartment. Brian shot me a look.
"Are you doing drugs, Kat?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips.
A startled laugh escaped my lips. "What?" I gasped. "You're joking, right?"
He didn't waver under my laughter. "It's not an unreasonable question. You're hanging out with a drug dealer, and you seem awful jumpy, like you're strung out. I'm not judging you, but I'm not going to let you disappear down some druggie path either."
I gaped at him. A part of me was touched he cared so much, though I was sure a part of that was some code he had because of his brother. "I'm not doing drugs, Brian, but if I were it really wouldn't be any of your business," I said, stalking down the sidewalk.
Brian reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me to a halt. "It is my business, Kat. I care about you. Dan would—"
My hands came up in a reflex move, shielding me. "Don't bring Dan into this," I warned. "I don't need a caregiver, Brian." I tried to pull my arm from his hand but he held fast. I looked down at it. His hand was large and warm. Easily twice the size of Dan's. Everything about it screamed man. For the briefest of moments a mental image of it stroking my face filled my head. A spasm of disgust filled my stomach. What the hell was I doing picturing his hand touching me? He was Dan's brother, for crap's sake.
"Damn it, Kat. I'm not trying to be your caregiver," Brian said. "I want to be your friend, but you're making it pretty damn hard. You freeze me out for weeks on end without explanation, and when I am with you, you get all prickly."
"No one told you to be my friend, Brian. Dan isn't going to come down and haunt your ass for not being my friend," I said, jerking my arm away from his touch so the insane thoughts would stop tormenting me.
We stood there in shock, digesting my words. I waited for him to stalk away. Surely he realized I wasn't worth the effort.
He surprised me by throwing his head back and roaring with laughter. "If Dan came back and haunted me it would be because I claimed all the Xbox games and his iPad for myself once he was gone," he said between loud bellows of laughter that sounded like a hyena choking on something.
I told myself it wasn't funny.
Talking about Dan was painful. Words involving him weren't supposed to be saturated in laughter. Knowing this was one thing, but watching Brian laugh like some character from a cartoon made my own lips quirk with humor. Deep down I knew he was right. Dan and Brian had gotten along well, but they tended to fight over electronics. Their parents never bought duplicates of anything except their phones. They felt that by sharing they'd learn to respect what they were given. Both boys hated their parents' rationalizing growing up, and had many battles over whose turn it was for things. Dan mowed lawns for a whole summer so he could buy his iPad. He'd found great pleasure in lording it over Brian's head.
"You're evil," I said once he stopped laughing.
"Admit it, you know Dan is cursing me from whatever cloud he hangs out on every time I use his iPad."
"He's probably plotting your demise," I agreed. "So, besides giving me a drug screening, what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to check on you. You've been pretty hit or miss lately."
"I'll be at work in an hour," I said, looking at the time on my phone for verification.
"Please, you've been avoiding me like I'm some crazed zombie trying to steal your brains there. Besides, yesterday was my last day."
"Fired?" I teased, stepping beneath one of the lone trees to get out from under the beating rays of the sun.
"Nope, summer football is over. I can only do one summer session since I have to report to my own camp this week."
"You guys practice in this?" I asked, fanning my face for emphasis as a bead of sweat trailed down the back of my collar joining the puddle already in my shirt.
"It's not too bad. You should come out and watch us scrimmage sometime."
"And risk melting?" I teased.
"You can bring an umbrella. Anyways, I wanted to let you know why I'm not hanging out at the Y anymore. Didn't want you to worry or anything. I know how much you'll miss me."
I rolled my eyes at his teasing. "Because we know that was going to happen."
"Exactly." He winked at me. "All joking aside, can you be done avoiding me now?"
I weighed his words. Between my visits with Zach and Brian's insistence that we be friends, everything was getting muddled. Despite my desire to leave the past where it belonged, both Zach and Brian seemed hell-bent on dragging it all out. The smart thing would be to cut my losses now and distance myself from both of them, but I couldn't seem to find the will to do so. I was a glutton for punishment.
"I guess I have no choice," I answered.
The light dimmed in his eyes. "You always have a choice, Kat. If you want me to leave you be, all you have to do is say the word. Is that what you want?"
He was giving me an out. I could cut him loose now and go back to the way my life used to be. Having friends was overrated.
"No, I don't want that," I finally said.
"Good. Now get to work before you're the one who gets fired."
That was more likely than him getting fired.
"Truth," I said. "I'll talk to you later."
"I'm holding you to that," he threatened as I made my way across the parking lot.
Only when I was pulling out of the parking lot and saw Carlos sitting on his couch watching me did the events of the night before cross my mind again.
***
Over the next few days, Brian made sure I didn't go back on my word and push him away again. He called me at odd times and began to text me regularly. Each time my phone dinged or rang my pulse would race for the slightest of moments before I could squelch it. I managed to convince myself that my reaction to him touching my arm had been in my head and that we were nothing more than friends. My betraying pulse suggested something darker that I refused to let myself think about. It was an awareness that was wrong on every single level.
Brian seemed oblivious to my inner turmoil. He seemed to be on a mission to prove we could be friends by texting me whenever he wasn't practicing or sleeping. His text messages were an endless stream of questions, and it didn't take me long to realize he was a night owl like me. I was still awake the night I got a text from him at two a.m. asking who my favorite Rugrat was. It took me several minutes of studying the text to even understand what he was asking before finally sending him Tommy as my answer. Another time he texted me to ask what food I would bring with me if I were stranded on a deserted island. Each question was different from the last and all came in at sporadic times without any rhyme or reason. Most made me smile, while others made me nostalgic for our childhood. He had a way of bringing up the past without ever outright mentioning it. I couldn't help feeling like that was his plan all along.
As the days passed, I found myself looking forward to each question and checking my phone constantly. He was slowly teaching me what it was like to have a friend and confidant again. I began to secretly wish he was still at the Y so I could see him on a regular basis. The days began to bleed together, broken into four sections—exercising, working, spending time with Zach, and chatting with Brian.
A week after he'd bullied me into being his friend, I was in the process of texting Brian a message on which two fruits I'd like to see married and produce an offspring, when the date hit me like a brick wall to the face. It was late at night and I realized the day had rolled into a new one. Somewhere in the back of my head I had convinced myself maybe this year it wouldn't be that bad. I'd fooled myself into believing the importance of the day could be handled maturely. I was an adult. I didn't need to shut down just because the calendar told me to. My heart, though, wouldn't allow me to entertain the idea of forgetting. Sneaky as a bastard, it crept in and infiltrated my mind like some disease with hundreds of tentacles.
With shaky fingers I forced myself to finish typing out my answer to Brian before tossing my phone on the couch cushion beside me as if it was at fault for betraying my mind.
Unable to believe I was stupid enough to think I could ever forget, I pulled my knees up to my chest in a weak attempt to staunch the pain inside. There would never be any kind of forgetting. Not while my heart continued to beat. If I could I would have gladly plucked it out of my chest and handed it over to Satan himself if it meant the pain would stop. I looped my arms around my knees, trying to ward off the memories. The wave of grief came blowing in so abruptly I didn't even see it coming. One minute I was mentally thinking of how cool it would be if a banana and strawberry did the deed so we could have a nana-berry and the next the significance of the following day crushed all joy from the room. I'd been a fool to think I was moving on.
Time lost all meaning as I sat on the couch with my arms locked around my legs. My phone continued to buzz with new text messages. Eventually, the messages stopped and the ringing of the phone took its place. Like the text messages, I also ignored the ringing.
I wished for the comfort of booze but I was in a wrong mental place to even think about leaving my apartment. Only when my bladder screamed at me in betrayal did I finally rise from my couch. With mechanical movements, I relieved my bladder so it would shut the hell up. Instead of returning to the couch I went to my room and closed my door behind me. Night had bled into morning, but my blackout curtains kept my room blissfully dark no matter what time it was. Without bothering to change, I crawled up on my bed and waited for the dark day to pass. I knew it would. Whether I would make it to the other side was a whole other question.
Hours passed.
My phone rang.
I ignored it.
More time passed.
Ringing again.
Ignore.
Sometime later in my cocoon of misery I heard knocking on my front door, but I didn't even make an attempt to leave my nest of blankets. Whoever it was would go away eventually.
The pounding on the door was now louder. I dragged a pillow up over my head, trying to muffle the noise. A second pillow joined the first when I could still hear the pounding. Thankfully that did the trick. I settled back in my bubble, floating along in a pained-filled haze that held me suspended bet
ween sleep and wakefulness. Sleep would have been simple. I would have loved to sleep the day away, waking up on the other side with fewer internal bruises and less bleeding, but my heart wouldn't allow for an easy pass. It insisted on torturing me the entire time so I'd never forget.
A sudden sharp tugging on the pillows I held to my head startled me out of my black abyss. Bright light filled my room, which had been blissfully dark just moments ago, burning my eyes. I held a hand up, trying to protect my eyes from the sudden light.
"Kat, what the fuck are you doing?" Brian raged at me. "You don't answer your phone or your door. I was afraid something happened to you."
"Brian," I squeaked, trying to understand why he was here. Didn't he understand what today was? He was supposed to be with his family today. Not standing in my room raging at me. "What are you doing here?" I asked, getting my voice to respond to the signal my brain was sending it.
"Are you sick?" he demanded, ignoring my question.
I nodded my head. Couldn't he see how ill I was? Didn't he know my room was coated in my sickness? I couldn't believe he couldn't feel it sticking to his skin like a fungi. "Brian, don't you know what day it is?" I asked, wishing my tear ducts weren't dried up.
His eyes widened before narrowing. "The question is, do you know what day it is? This day isn’t about you. It's about the birthday I no longer share with my brother," he growled at me.
My eyes widened at his anger. In all the years I'd known him I'd never seen him this angry. His whole body practically shook with it. I wondered if the force of it could tear my room apart. The despair and sadness that had gripped me since the night before slowly began to release its hold on me as I focused on Brian and his rage.