Brant
“My mom is pretty too.”
I frown down at Macy who is in the middle of drawing a castle.
“What?” I inspect her page but it doesn’t give any clues as to what she’s talking about.
“Your girlfriend.” She draws out the word and giggles behind her hand. “You keep looking at her like my dad looks at my mom. He says she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.”
I smile down at her and ruffle her hair. “She’s just my friend.”
“Daddy says mom is his best friend. Is she your best friend?”
“I’m working on it, kid.” I smile and look over at Abby again. She’s talking to Aria. A quiet little girl who never makes eye contact with anyone. She seems to have taken a liking to Abby though, she can’t take her eyes off her. When I look to Abby again I see sadness in her eyes. That sadness is always there but at the moment it’s so intense that it hangs on her body like a cloak. I’m curious about the topic that has Aria so enraptured so I move to the little boy sitting behind Macy in hopes of being close enough to eavesdrop.
“… and they all told her how ugly… and she would cry herself to sleep… ruined her books…” I only catch snippets of what she’s saying. Who are they talking about?
“Brant, I want to do a dog but I don’t know how to draw one.” My attention is drawn back to the boy having trouble with his drawing.
“You know what a dog looks like right?” I ask him and he nods. “Well, if you know what one looks like then you can draw it. Picture a dog on your mind. Does it have long legs and a snout? Does it have brown spots or is it black all over? Just picture it and then put the picture in your head on paper.” He considers me for a moment and then sets about drawing his dog with a determined look on his face.
“… but she realized that she didn’t need any of them…” I frown again as the bits and pieces reach my ears again. “…had her dreams and nobody was going…”
“Does it look ok, Brant?” I’m pulled back to his drawing and take a look at the oddly shaped dog. “It looks great buddy, but he only has two legs? Maybe you should give him two more, huh?”
“I would like to have one friend at least.” Aria is looking down at her paper again while Abby looks at her sadly. It’s odd that she chose this little girl to bond with. Aria’s mom has told me all about her troubles at school. Kids are mean and she’s such an odd little bird. Quiet and into her art. She always has a book under her arm and knows weird facts about animals. She reminds me a lot of Abby.
“Well, if neither of us has a friend, what do you think about you and I being friends?” Aria looks up sharply, doubt written all over her face. “You can help me with my drawing. I’m really bad at it. Friends help each other, right?” Aria’s face lights up as Abby presents her picture. They both giggle over how bad it is but are soon concentrating on fixing it.
She’s so much like Abby that it finally dawns on me.
Can the things I heard while they talked be about her? Did Abby experience the same kind of things?
I remember the things she blurted out about her childhood and try to guess how it must have been being a kid in that situation, how hard it must have been in school. The answer has been there all the time, in her way of closing herself off and in her little quirks. Abby was bullied. That’s why she’s so guarded. That’s why she sees everyone as an enemy first.
I make another round through the kids’ tables. Helping here and there, giving praise as I go but my mind isn’t here anymore. Instead I think about Abby and all the things she’s shown me so far. All the clues I took for mere quirks when in reality they’re all mechanisms she uses to keep herself safe.
She always seems so in control, like she has all her shit together, like she knows exactly who she is and where she’s going. She’s a little weird and closed off maybe, yeah, but she always seems so fucking strong. I suddenly feel strange realizing that all of that is just an illusion. Underneath that cold exterior lies a broken girl.
And I have no idea how to deal with her now.
All I’ve ever known in life was how to have fun. I know about being goofy and flirting and getting girls to spread their legs for me. But they all knew what was up and I never messed around with the ones who seemed too fragile. Broken girls? That’s a whole other ball game.
I glance at my watch. “Alright, kids. Time to start clearing away your things. The parental will be here soon.” I clap my hands and watch the kids scatter into various directions. I walk over to where Abby is still sitting at the kid’s size table.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yes, I even made a friend.” She smiles. I don’t return it.
“We have to get going soon. Have all your stuff?” She frowns at my response, but I ignore it and head to the front of the class.
Once the last kid has been collected I signal to Abby who is picking at her hands that it’s time to leave. With a sigh she picks up her bag and follows me outside. I open the door of my truck for her before getting in myself.
The drive home is silent. My mind is trying to put together the pieces of her story and my place in it.
“Are.. did I do something wrong?”
I frown and look at her. “What? No.”
“Is it because I don’t know how to draw?”
“What?”
“You’re being weird. Not talking to me. Is it.. are you mad at me?”
“What?” Ok, dumbass, try using all your words. “Abby, no. I... I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Ok.” She says quietly. She knows I’m being vague, but we reach the apartment before I need to say anything else. Abby gets out of the car but looks at me in question when I stay seated. “I have some errands to run.” I answer her unasked questions. She looks at me, doubt written across her features but eventually shrugs and walks up to the building. I watch her in silence until she gets inside and then slump back in my seat. I put the truck back into drive and make my way out of the parking lot.
I know I’m being a dick. But I’m just trying to be realistic here. An uptight Abby I can deal with. Just flirt and show her how to live a little. Being friends with a girl is already new and strange territory for me, but a broken girl? A broken Abby? I’m way out of my depth.
I groan out loud. I need a distraction.
I change course at the next stop sign and head over to Alex’s place. I shoot him a text to let him know I’m on my way and by the time I get there his door is already open and there are two open beers waiting.
“Am I a good person?” I slump down on his couch and give a sullen sigh.
“Dude, what?” He dips his hand into the bowl of nachos next to him on the couch.
“Do you think I’m a good person?” I repeat my question. He considers me for a moment, probably deciding between making fun of me for asking or giving me a straight answer.
“You’re the best person I know.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
“Yeah but,” I shift my body uncomfortable, not sure how to ask this question. “Do you… do you think I’m a good friend?”
Alex frowns at me like I’ve asked him to suck me off. “Sure. You’re my best buddy.” He says around a mouth full of chips and pats me on the shoulder.
“Ok. Yes.” That’s not really the answer I wanted. But it’s also not the question I wanted to ask. I’m silent for a moment trying to decide if I should ask what I really want to.
“Do you.. think that I… could…”
“Dude just fucking ask me. You’re making me nervous.”
“Do you think I’d be a good friend to a girl? Like a boyfriend type of thing?” The words leave my mouth so fast I’m not even sure I’ve said them.
The room falls silent and Alex just stares at me for a second before he starts laughing. A full out, stomach-clutching-belly-laugh. I let him finish and wait until he sobers and wipes a tear from his eye. “Yeah. No.” comes his straight faced reply.
“Hey! I could make a great boyfriend if I wanted to.” I wanted an honest answer, but now I’m offended. I don’t even know why it’s such a big deal. I don’t even want to be someone’s boyfriend.
“Dude, you just called it a ‘boyfriend type thing’.” His eyebrow is raised at me like that should be an obvious reason. I cross my arms over my chest, I’m for real sulking now.
“Man, ok, when was the last time you were with the same girl for more than two weeks?”
I open my mouth to give him an answer but I’m stumped. I try and think back to when I was with a girl for that long. High school? Middle school? “Never.” I mumble eventually.
“Right, and when’s the last time you got a girl flowers?”
My face lights up because I actually have an answer to this one, but Alex stops me by holding up his hand. “Nan doesn’t count.” I slump back in my seat and mumble another ‘never’.
“Went on a date? Met a family member you didn’t end up fucking? Replied to a text? Called the next day? Bought tampons? Gotten into a fight and actually stuck around to finish it? Had a..”
“I could do those things if I wanted to.” I sound like a sulking five-year-old.
“Yeah? Remember Sophie? You didn’t call her back the next day and she flunked an entire semester because of it. Laura? She went full lesbian after you broke her heart. And remember Avril? She followed you around like a puppy for an entire year…”
“I didn’t fuck around with Avril, dude. And Sophie knew what was up. I told her from the beginning that…”
“Then there was Delia and Candice and Michelle and Nicole and..”
“OKAY. OKAY. I get it. I’d make a bad boyfriend.”
“Why do you even care, man? You’ve never even wanted to be someone’s boyfriend.” He states my earlier sentiments out loud and all I can do is shrug. “You’re not the type. You’re a free bird. Going where inspiration strikes. You have the kind of life other guys dream about. You snap your fingers and panties disappear. And then, you know, YOU disappear. You just don’t have it in you to stick around, and that’s fine man. We’re not all made for commitment and a dog. ”
I sigh and finish my beer. “I’m gonna head out.”
“Hey, dude, Listen. I’m sorry. Maybe all you need is to meet the right girl?”
“Yeah,” I give a non-committal shrug as I get up. “Maybe. See you man.” Alex tries to say something else but I wave him off and head out to my truck. As soon as I get in my seat I get a text from Alex.
*Is this about Abby?*
I shake my head in annoyance and throw my phone on the seat next to me. Of course it’s about fucking Abby. What hasn’t been about Abby recently?
Maybe you just need to find the right girl.
Alex’s words echo in my head the entire way home. Maybe I already know the right girl but I am not willing to fuck up her life on an experiment. What if I get two weeks in and then realize that nope, sorry, this really isn’t for me? What if everyone is right and I just give up when shit gets hard and I realize she’s too hard? What if I try and do everything right but end up fucking it all up anyway because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing?
Nope. I can’t take that chance with Abby. She’s too beautiful and too fragile for me to mess with. Purposely or not. The decision has been made for me.
I am bad news and I will stay away from Abby.
I stand in the open door and listen for any indication that Abby may be around. Hearing nothing I go straight to my room to grab the paints I forgot this morning.
It’s been almost two weeks of this. I’m being an asshole and I know it but I don’t know how to deal with Abby now. Instead, I’ve been avoiding the apartment when she’s around and only stopping by for a shower and a change of clothes for the most part. Her lunches are still there, though not every morning, and I haven’t made dinner since the night she helped me in the kitchen. I’m using the studio on campus to work on my paintings instead of here and I’ve been spending most nights at Alex’s.
This is for the best I tell myself again. It’s become my new mantra. Every time I pick up my phone to shoot her a text or stand in front of her door ready to knock and say hi or go out of my way on campus just to catch a glimpse of her.
I’ve been messing with her since I moved in and trying to get her out of the ordered life she’s led until now. But that was before I knew her reasons. Who am I to fuck with her safety net? What will I do if I end up breaking it and she has nothing to catch her? I’ve never been the kind of guy who was good for a girl. Alex said as much. I’ve only ever made them angry or sad and when shit got more serious than a little bit of fun I got bored and bolted. I couldn’t do that to her.
And who did I think I was anyway? Who am I to decide whether she needs to spread her wings or not? No, this is for the best. I will just stay out of her way and let her live her life surrounded by her carefully constructed walls.
It doesn’t matter how much I want to see her smile again, or how much I want to hear that giggle when she forgets herself. It doesn’t matter how much she lights up my entire day with one of her snarky comments or how much I still think of her every second of the day. It doesn’t matter that she’s the last thing on my mind every night. It doesn’t matter that I feel like I’m losing my mind every time I step into the bathroom and catch a whiff of the jasmine scent she left behind. Or that I catch myself doodling her name on every scrap of paper I find.
I can’t keep messing with her. Can’t keep inserting myself in her life when I know I won’t be around forever. And she deserves that. She deserves someone who is going to stick it out with her. Who will be able to comfort her and BE her safety net instead of trying to pull it out from under her.
But fuck, I miss her. I miss her smell and I miss her laugh and I miss her little frowns and I miss her getting annoyed at me. I miss the little facts she sprouts at me and I miss the words she uses like she’s a forty-year-old professor. I miss her frustrated little sighs when she can’t figure something out and I miss her violet eyes, and, god help me, I miss the way those eyes look at me when I’m not wearing a shirt.
No, this is for the best.
So then why am I putting down my paints and heading to the kitchen to make dinner?