"Looking for someone?" I asked.
"No, you little shit. I'm looking for my apartment," she replied.
"Well, you don't live in this one. Try the next one. It worked the last time." I crossed my arms and looked at her from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. My body shuddered at the thought of where she'd been and what she'd been doing. Gianna politely flipped me off and wobbled next door.
I couldn't pick a fight with her right now. Gio was still in the shower, so I'd have to wait. Wait until his hair was at least dry.
My frustration from the previous night, unfortunately, was still alive. So I followed her. I walked straight into the apartment that she never locked and hoped to God that she would look for Gio and not look for Gio. The air was still cold. When things went untouched, unloved, they turned cold. It was the same with heaters when the bill wasn't paid.
Her shoes were dropped several feet apart on the carpet, where bills and other forms of mail had littered the floor. I could hear her undressing in the back room, so I waited. She never did check on Gio.
"Gianna, are you dressed? We need to talk," I yelled down the hallway.
She mumbled a response and never came out.
"Gianna! Get your ass out here now, or I'm coming back there."
Still nothing.
Goosebumps formed on my arms as I crept toward her door. Turning the corner, I peeked in and saw her passed out and half-dressed. Barely breathing, I shook her back and forth and patted at her cheek. No response. She smelled like beer and cigarettes and sex. I took a seat on her bed and placed my face in my hands.
Gio was a great kid. A wonderful kid. But he wasn't mine. I couldn't keep this up. I'd be leaving soon anyway. The responsibility was too much. I didn't have enough to give. I couldn't be his parent.
The papers in the front room began to rustle. I looked back at Gianna. She was never going to change. I covered her body with a blanket and shut the door behind.
Gio stood, two feet away from me, just staring.
"You ready to go?" I asked.
His head tilted to the side as he lifted his shoulders.
"Ok. Well, you can walk with me to school. That sound good?"
His eyes traveled across to the kitchen and he looked at the clock.
"Yeah, you'll be there early, but would you rather stay here? It's cold."
Walking to the couch, Gio grabbed his backpack and then headed to the fridge. Opening it, he surveyed the empty contents and without hesitation placed the apple and single slice of cheese into a brown bag and stood by the front door.
I looked back at his mom's room and then headed out, following him. He stopped at my apartment, turned around and looked up at me. He stared for several seconds, then grabbed my hand and squeezed it. His head fell to his chest as he dropped my hand and leaned against the wall.
I ran inside, gathered my things and came back out. Locking the door behind me, I grabbed Gio’s hand and we left. New day. New Year.
Chapter 3
The Brick Wall
(Javier)
I sat there on the edge of the cold brick wall watching them. Observing them. Studying them.
They laughed. They whispered. Life knowing no limits or end. They embraced their universe as kings and queens. I saw only pawns. Nathan prowled amongst that large crowd.
The King of Pawns.
He would always be on my radar and I couldn't ignore his presence any more than I could stop the nightmares. It had been that way for the past 708 days—cold sweats, muted screams and the constant rubbing of my neck. No one ever asked any questions, and in return, I was silent. Somehow, it worked.
Near the end of last year I had started to relax, but as soon as I hit the pavement, as soon as I returned back to class and saw him, it all came rushing back. Breathing the same air as him was suffocating.
"You're staring again," Izzy said as he kicked a foot into my side.
I looked down at my notebook and pretended to write. Izzy took a seat.
"I'm not scolding you. I'm just telling you." He pulled out his lunch and observed the world we were a part of, but never interacting with. "Two more weeks," he said with hesitation.
"You think I forgot?" I asked.
He breathed in and out. Unwrapping his sandwich, he took a bite and rested his head against the wall.
"No, but I always hope," he said.
Cocking my head to the side, I pulled on the collar of my shirt and exposed my neck—my fingers brushing the light, jagged scars.
"Can you forget?" I asked.
"No," he replied.
"Then where's the hope?"
"Isn't that what hope is?" said Izzy. "A consistent wanting of something with no guarantee it will happen."
I narrowed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my chest. "I hope for nothing. I just want to be done. Done with high school."
"How can you say that? You act like nothing's changed."
"It has and it hasn't. Everything is still the same. You and my mom, you both still tread on eggshells."
"You regret it, don't you?" Izzy said, as he exhaled with forced control.
"Regret what?" I asked, as I swiped a highlighter across the page.
Izzy pointed to his chest, his face hard as the spiders of fear crept along the wall.
"Me showing up," he replied.
I pushed everything to the side and placed my face in my hands. The campus around us roared with life—jocks throwing food, cheerleaders practicing jumps, theatre students being dramatic. I rubbed my hands over my barely there shaved head and then pinched the bridge of my nose.
"I don't know. Maybe." The only partially honest response I could give.
Izzy crossed his arms and we both sat in silence, staring into the noise. He shifted in his seat.
"I know you think you're alone still," he said. "That no one understands you. That no one wants you."
I pulled my hand away from my face, my mouth falling open at his words. "That's not true—"
"You don't have to deny it," he said, cutting me off. "I get it. I think I'd feel the same way if I was in your position. But you're wrong. I know nothing I can say or do will prove it, but it's true."
He stared ahead, the lines in his forehead creasing and then relaxing. "I don't have any other friends, as pathetic as that may sound. Regardless, if I stayed because of sophomore year or in spite of it, the point is I stayed. It was my choice. I want to be here."
I hadn't expected the first day of school to be so heavy.
"You know it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him," I pleaded, as I looked back across the courtyard for Nathan. He was sitting at one of the central tables, surrounded by friends and enemies—a pretty girl on his right and a wrestling teammate on his left.
"I do. I mean I hate him as much as you do. Maybe even more. I just don't show it," he said.
"And I show mine?" The words flew from my mouth as my quiet anger awakened.
"You don't have to get defensive. I'm not the one to blame." Izzy crossed his arms and sulked against the wall.
"No one’s to blame. No one but me," I replied as I closed my eyes.
Izzy scoffed, he always scoffed at my pessimism. "Just because it was by your hand doesn't mean it was your fault."
I opened my eyes. "No one is responsible for the work of their own hands, but them," I replied.
Izzy grunted. "God, we sound old. I even feel old. I mean look, I have gray hairs!" He pushed his head in front of mine and ran his fingers through his curly locks as he continued to mumble. "I still don't think he's blameless. And you shouldn't either."
I pulled my notebook back onto my lap and once more, began to highlight. "Everyone deals with the consequences of their actions. Whether we see it or not. And as far as your gray hairs go, I blame your parents."
"I doubt Nathan does," said Izzy. "He gets away with everything. Always has, always will. And I think you're right. I blame my parents too." He turned to me and smiled. It was forced, but honest.
"The thing with Nathan is that he wasn't taught any better. I'm not excusing his actions, but if you knew his parents—his mother, his father. It'd be easier to see it. You might feel for him."
Izzy rolled his eyes and grabbed a bag of sunflower seeds, chewing them, and then spitting the seeds out of his mouth and onto the ground.
"Might," I replied.
He stared at me with wide-eyes. "He really messed you up, Javi."
"No. I messed up," I closed my notebook, "by caring too much."
"Caring too much?" asked Izzy.
"About him," I replied.
"Do you still care?"
"Yes, but only in the means of attaching an importance to him."
"An importance to Nathan?"
"Yes," I replied.
"I don't understand," said Izzy.
"He's important because I hate him." My knuckles hardened at my words. It was harsh, but it was truth. I watched Nathan and kept an eye on him in order to protect myself. I didn't strike back in the beginning, but if given the opportunity, I'd strike back now. I could only use his parents as a crutch for so long. The decisions he made now were his own.
"You staying or going?" Izzy asked as he stood up and brushed his jeans off. The bell followed as the rest of the campus moved in unison.
I looked up at Izzy and then scanned my surroundings. "Staying," I replied.
He turned around and walked away without another word and I sat—alone. If Izzy wasn't around, I was always alone.
Alone. Alone. Alone.
***
My last period was quiet. The open hallways of our campus were empty, but the classrooms were full. So I roamed. There wasn't anything important going on in Honor's Spanish anyway. Administration just wanted to contain me. Ever since I corrected Mrs. Rojas's improperly worded question on our midterm last fall I could come and go as I pleased. No one questioned me. No one cared.
My shoes slapped the concrete flooring as I flicked the locks hanging from our lockers. I pulled down, choosing at random, and if one clicked open, I slipped it out of its place and found it a new home. Some students were too lazy to protect their belongings. This was a simple courtesy. A reminder. A playful gesture.
I made my way down toward the lower level of campus. A few students were always sprinkled in the dark recesses. The quiet little alcoves. Most were probably feeling up some unknown girl or getting high.
Our school was classy—brick buildings, green lawns, and tulips in the flowerbeds—but it was still public. The student body reflected that. A conglomerate of rich, poor and middle class.
I looked around, checked the bushes, and scanned the classroom doors—all closed. Not a single stir, voice or chuckle to be heard. I was safe. My toe kicked in the door and I entered the restroom. It was part of my plan. My plan to get over my fears, heal my invisible wounds and not let Nathan win.
Because so far he had won.
I pushed open every stall and made sure nobody was inside. The door closed with a hush and only a single slice of light peered through. This was my safety net, the only assurance that I wouldn't be left inside. I needed to close it though. Get past it all.
Sweat had begun to trickle along my neck and my skin flushed. Taking my hand out of my pockets, I brushed the sticky lint onto my pants and reached for the door. To stay or leave. All this time and I couldn't decide. Almost two years to the date. I kept repeating my mom's words over and over again.
"The only way to conquer your fears is to face them."
And here I was, facing them for what seemed to be the millionth time, but like a bad dream or scary movie, I just couldn't open my eyes. My lungs began to twitch, searching for the air that was abundant, but not present. Distant voices began to pour in and I knew it was now or never. Now or never.
And I just couldn't face never.
My eyes flicked up and down along the line of light peering through the door. A lifeline to normality. My only extension of hope that I would—
could
be normal again. And so I kicked the door with an anger born of fear and it was gone. The light. My extension.
I stumbled backward against a stall divider and my self-control dropped to the cold floor. My fingers rubbed circles into my eyes as my knees knocked against each other.
Open your eyes, Javi. Open your eyes!
It was my final step. My release from it all. And so I opened them.
The bathroom was black. No windows, no soft glow from the edges of the door. It was completely sealed and enclosed and I felt safe. This emotion was unexpected.
This floor, this space, this entire room was my final straw of excuses for giving up and now I felt—
safe?
My body uncoiled as the tension and fear disappeared. I relaxed against the stall, breathed and then began to remember.
Remember everything that happened that night and the events that spiraled out of control as an effect. I could still smell the cologne I wore as I buttoned up the front of my tux and took one last look in the mirror. And then everything blurred as I pictured Nathan standing over me as he shoved me into the bathroom and whispered his last words, "A world in which you have something that I can't will never exist."