Three Months Later…

I have come to realize that there is nothing in this world more dangerous than a woman scorned –with the exception of said woman’s parents. Brandi’s parents hired this kick ass lawyer that my own simply could not compete with. I suppose the overwhelming amount of guilt I feel coupled with my unwillingness to put her through much more than I already have did not help the situation. Basically, between the killer lawyer and the pissed off look the female judge gave me when the clip of me socking Brandi in the face was played, I fucking lost everything. Brandi got the house and just about every single dime I still had. The only win on my side is that I get to keep her old, shitty fucking pink Volkswagen beetle that she hasn’t driven since she was a damn teenager, a few personal items like my fucking clothes, and I don’t have to pay alimony.

Everything I own is either in this small storage unit outside of the city or crammed into the back of my, formerly Brandi’s, fucking pink beetle. The court dates lasted several months, and to be honest, I was ready to sign away just about anything. Brandi never spoke a word to me during mediation or court; she let her parents or her lawyer do all the talking. I tried to speak to her once, if only to offer a sincere apology, but her father had given me this death glare that had warned me off.

I’m officially moved out of the house now, and now I find myself staring at this shit-hole apartment complex with Tyler standing next to me –being kind enough to carry my bags. Marty’s girlfriend had just moved in with him. Otherwise, I probably would have begged him to let me stay at his nice house in the suburbs. Tyler, the wannabe boxer, did not exactly have the kind of set up I was used to. He was kind enough to let me stay with him, though, so I make it my goal not to complain.

My arms sway slightly; I feel almost sick. This morning Brandi had been at the house as I was leaving –her parents with her, of course. Fuck them. I had finally managed to talk to her, though, and it had not gone particularly well. I told her I was sorry, and I told her that I hoped she would be happy. She had been really cold towards me. She had turned up her nose and said, “Get sober, or you never will be.”

It’s not like I can go get drunk when I don’t have any fucking money to spend on drinks, so maybe me losing everything to Brandi in court is a good thing. I follow Tyler, and I cringe when I see the damn elevator is broken, so we have to walk up five flights of stairs. Thankfully I’m an athletic guy, but still. “So, how long has that been broken?” I ask.

“Oh, it’s been broken since I moved in,” Tyler says as he puts my bags down and fiddles with his keys.

“Haven’t you lived here for two years, man?” I question.

“Yup,” he says and opens the door.

I grab one of the bags, and he grabs the other two, leading the way. It’s not too bad. To the right is a door that leads to Tyler’s bedroom; the rest of the apartment is out in the open… oh my fucking God, the damn toilet is in the kitchen! It’s in the fucking kitchen! I cringe as we pass by the kitchen area that is also the fucking bathroom, and he puts my bags down beside his worn out sofa. “It’s a pullout,” he says, “but the springs suck; I would honestly just sleep on it as a couch.” He seems embarrassed; there’s a reason the guys have never hung out at his place. His cheeks are slightly red; I had no idea he was living in such a slum. The wallpaper is peeling off, and there are bars on the window above the couch like we’re in a damn prison cell. Can he really not afford a better place? I had no idea. If I had known he was living in such a shit hole, I probably would have done something about it.

I put my hand on his shoulder and smile at him, “Thanks, man. Really.” I certainly don’t want him to think I’m unappreciative. If he hadn’t offered up his couch, I’d be sleeping in the pink Volkswagen. I sit down on the couch and take a deep breath.

“You would have done the same for me… although I probably wouldn’t be sleeping on a couch you pulled from your side job at the dump,” his entire face turns red when he says this because I jumped right up off that couch.

Now we’re both embarrassed. Great. “I didn’t know you had a side job?” I say.

“I don’t make shit boxing, but it’s what I want to do. I got to make up for the money somehow,” he says.

“And you work at the dump?” I question, and he nods. “We’ve been friends for years, man. How come I didn’t know that?”

“I guess there are a lot of things you guys don’t know about me,” he says.

To save face, I sit back down on the dumpster-diver couch. It doesn’t look like he got it at the dump, but damn. He sits across from me in a chair, the coffee table between us. I spot a picture frame sitting on the end table beside the couch, and I instantly regret picking it up. It’s a picture of Tyler, a much younger Gabe, and some woman I’ve never met. The three of them are smiling big at the camera –Gabe especially. It makes me cringe, and Tyler becomes really quiet. None of us have really talked about Gabe since the funeral; it stings too much. “Who’s the woman in this picture?” I ask.

“Oh, that’s my little sister,” he says.

“What the fuck, man?” I question, “How many other secrets you keep from us? Why haven’t I ever met her?”

“She’s dead, man,” Tyler says.

Can I say anything else to make today more uncomfortable? “Oh,” I say softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“How could you have known?” Tyler takes the picture frame from me and smiles slightly at the picture. “Gabe only met her once, and we took this picture right before she died. I asked him not to say anything to you guys about it; I had only just met you and Marty back then.”

“How did she…” I cut myself off. It was none of my business; if he had wanted me to know, he would have told me.

He hesitates, but he decides to tell me, “She was walking home by herself one night; her car had broken down at work. A couple of thugs tried to take her purse, and she fought back.”

“Awe, shit, man,” I say because I don’t have any other words to describe what I’m feeling.

“I’m all right, really,” he says, “it was a long time ago. I mean, I guess you’re never okay after something like that, but I’m better now. I guess it was just rough because it had always been just the two of us, I mean, we were foster kids-”

What the hell? How did I not know that either? I stare at him, completely dumbfounded by all this new knowledge. Was I really so busy partying and fighting that I never took the time to actually get to know Tyler –Tyler, who I consider to be one of my best friends? He has a second job that he keeps to pay his bills? He had a sister –a sister who died –a sister who was killed? He had been in foster care as a kid? Where was all of this coming from? It’s like one secret revealed just leads to another. I guess I have just never really talked to Tyler –not like this, at least. I must be a real jackass to have not known any of this. How wrapped up in my own little world, was I?

We wind up cracking open a couple of beers, but Tyler won’t let me have more than one. He’s looking out. We sit around talking, and I learn that there was a hell of a lot more to Tyler than I ever thought possible. I learn that his father had died when he was just a kid and that his mother had turned to drugs –which is what landed Tyler and his sister in foster care. He talks about how they had gotten separated a couple of times, but how they were lucky enough to remain together most of the time compared to families with a large number of siblings. He tells me how he called her Lollipop because when they were kids, she used to steal suckers from one of their foster mom’s offices and pass them out to the other kids. He tells me about his job at the dump and how much he hates it, but he admits he is kind of a dumpster diver and enjoys that part of his job. He talks about how much he wants to become a professional boxer. He also tells me more about the night his sister died, and I cringe to hear him tell me she died alone in the street after being stabbed in the gut. He tells me a lot. We also wind up talking about Gabe, but that pretty much puts us both in unpleasant moods.

After the subject of Gabe comes up, we are both ready to call it a night. He heads to bed after grabbing some sheets and a spare pillow from his bedroom for me to use. I lay down, staring up at the ceiling in the dark apartment after Tyler had retired to bed. I contemplate what an arrogant, self-absorbed asshole I must be to have never known all of this stuff about Tyler I have just learned. I also think about Brandi and Gabe, and thinking about them gives me nightmares.