Chapter 13

Dark days

There are moments that transport you back in time. Images conjure up memories that have long been forgotten. Seeing Travis again took me back to my time in high school. Dean was the star athlete and I was a stoned brawler who couldn’t go a week without receiving some sort of discipline from our parents. Travis had been the running back on the high school football team with Dean. The three of us had once been very close—even though I was a few grades below them.

“You’ve got to quit dicking around, Trevor. You know Mom’s going to freak-out when she hears about this.”

With a busted lip and a fucked-up nose, there’s no way Mom’s going to keep her mouth shut this time. Not that she notices me much anyway. I can usually just slide by her and she won’t even bother to look up. I don’t complain; I love how fucking oblivious she is when it comes to me. I can spend my days away from home and come back in the early morning hours and not a single fuck is ever given. Of course, my dad would freak-out if he ever found out the truth. But he usually spends his nights trapped in his study, working on a heaping pile of paper work, while my mom drinks and watches reality television.

“She won’t hear about anything,” I say as I dab my upper lip with a dirty rag. “Just distract her with your stories like you always do. Tell her about a football game you won or some shit like that. She eats that shit right up.”

Dean rolls his eyes at me—although, he knows it’s fucking true. “I’ll cover for you this time, little brother. You got to stop wailing on everyone you see, though. You’re creating more enemies than you know what to do with.”

This time, I roll my eyes. “That’s an exaggeration. You know Drake had that shit coming to him for a while.”

“You fucked his girl, Trevor. Of course, he’s upset about it.”

Cleo was a prime piece, but one of the main reasons I hooked up with her was to mess with her dick of a boyfriend. Hooking up has become a sport for me. A sport that I’m really good at. It’s amazing, that regardless of the amount of shit I get for my actions, I’m never in need of a girl. Dean, my poster boy brother, is the opposite of me. While he still gets laid as frequently as I do, he’s got a steady girlfriend who doesn’t exactly like me. Cat thinks my behavior is disgusting, which I don’t understand. If a girl wants to drop her panties for some random asshole she’s just met, then who am I to stop her from having fun?

Travis jogs towards us with a shit-eating grin on his face. His parents just left town and he’s been itching to throw a party from the moment they walked out the door. “You two coming by tonight?”

“Of course, dude. I told you Trevor and I would be there,” Dean says with his usual bright, all-American smile.

They get to talking as we head to my brother’s car, with me lagging behind like I normally do. Travis jumps into the passenger seat and Dean stops me before I have the chance to jump in the back.

“Don’t bring any of your shit to the party tonight, Bro. We almost had an accident last time because of you.”

I nod, feeling sick all of a sudden. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind at the time, and it’s haunted me to this day. I’ve never seen anyone look like that. I’d lost track of my pills after one too many drinks and some girl snatched them off the counter and decided to take the lot of them. It was a wake-up call, and since then I’ve been more careful and kept anything I bring on my person at all times.

“Trevor? Trevor Warren is that you?”

Travis’s familiar voice pulls me away from my memories. Luckily, putting a stop to them before I remember the way that night had gotten a hell of a lot darker. So much stuff went down at that party and now that I’ve changed, it feels as though all that shit happened to a different person all together.

As I look up at Travis, I cringe to find he looks the exact same as he did back in high school. He looks more mature and calculating, but other than that, he looks just like he did when I saw him two years ago at my brother’s wedding. However, he looks older, and not in the way that’s to be expected. His eyes are haunted and his face is gaunt. I understand because I’m also mourning the loss of my best friend. He puts on a fake, cheery smile before walking toward my booth situated in farthest corner of the local diner. Grey must sense my change of mood because he grows agitated in my arms—giving me forewarning I don’t have much longer here until he starts crying.

“Hey, Trevor! It’s been forever, hasn’t it? I haven’t seen you since you left for California,” Travis says, gesturing to the unoccupied side of the booth—a silent way of asking if the seat’s taken.

I nod, indicating that it’s okay. Travis slides into his seat across from me.

“You’ve got little Greyson with you, too.” His bittersweet smile quickly transforms into a tired grimace. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner, Trevor. I just haven’t been feeling too hot since the funeral,” he rambles, running a nervous hand through his sandy blonde hair. “How are you doing, man?”

I want to fucking bolt. I don’t know what it is, but his presence puts me completely on edge. Maybe it’s because he’s a reminder of my brother, which I don’t fucking want. I wish I could lock away all the shitty reminders of Dean into a box and throw away the fucking key. Everything brings back too many painful memories. I guess I’m able to cope with Grey so well because I hadn’t met him until after his father’s death. I’m sure if I met him before, he’d be another painful reminder, as well. I feel fucking skittish. I’ve got to get out of here. Fuck, what is wrong with me? I feel like I’m an animal trapped in a fucking cage at the zoo.

“I’m fine,” I finally manage to spit out. “Got back into town recently, found a job, and I started taking care of Greyson.”

Grey looks back and forth between Travis and I—as if he were trying to detect a threat coming from my old friend. He looks as though he’s trying to place him, but he can’t quite figure it out. He’s probably too young to remember Travis ever being in his life anyway.

“That sounds amazing, man. I’m sure your brother would be really proud of you.”

I don’t think I can handle this right now. I don’t like to think about the past, let alone speak about it. I’ve not even discussed this shit with Ronnie, despite how calm she makes me feel. I just want her to see me, and not my past. I just want to start my life anew—and Travis is a reminder of the boy I once was. Although, I know it’s not fair to shut him out completely. We both lost the same person and we’d probably benefit from healing our wounds together. However, I’m not cut out to do that shit right now. I just want to be alone with my thoughts.

“I don’t want to talk about him right now,” I say in a clipped tone. “Especially with you, Travis. I see him when I look at you and it fucking kills me.” I feel like I’m inches away from an anxiety attack. Images of Dean flash through my mind like a movie reel running rampant.

Travis frowns at my curtness, but it’s obvious he understands. “Trevor, I don’t want to make this more difficult for you. We used to be close and I’d love to be a friend to you again, but if you don’t want to see me, then you don’t have to. But I think Dean would’ve wanted us to remain friends.”

That’s it. I’m tired of this “What Dean would want” bullshit. “My brother is fucking dead!” I state through gritted teeth. “Who knows what the fuck he’d want? He’s not here to tell us and he never will be!”

Grey begins to cry, startled by my outburst. I can feel all the color drain from my face as I look at him. I don’t know what made me lash out at Travis like that. This built-up rage inside of me is growing harder to control. It’s like caging a wild fucking bear in the confines of my body. It’s going to tear its way out sooner or later. I didn’t lash out because of Travis, but instead, of what Travis represents. He symbolizes the past with my brother and a time when we were all happy. Someone once told me that pain was good because it proves you’re still alive. If you’re still living you’ve got some fight left in you. If we can’t feel pain, then we can’t feel anything else. I wish I could will away these feelings. I wish I was numb and unfeeling like my mother.

I watch as Travis’s eyes widen in surprise, disbelief, and—dare I say—understating. “Sorry, Travis. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around. Hopefully,” I say as I stand up with Grey in my arms and take a few steps away from the booth.

“That’s fine, Trevor. I understand, man. I really do. I just want you to know that I’m here if you need me.”

I pull my wallet out and toss some cash on the table to cover my lunch and give Travis a tense smile, which I’m sure looks more like an annoyed grimace, before walking out of the diner. I feel like a fucking coward. It’s evident he misses Dean as much as I do. But I’m just not ready to face him yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. Maybe one day I’ll be able to openly talk about my brother and what he meant to me. But today—I’m in pieces.

I’m a fucking zombie on the drive home. I go through all the motions with an emptiness that makes Grey uneasy. He looks at me like I’m an alien in a familiar body and doesn’t seem too happy at the idea of going home with me. As soon as we enter our apartment, I sit down on the couch with him on my lap. How long we sat like this—I don’t know. Time eludes me completely; seconds pass by as quickly as an hour. I don’t look at the clock. I don’t look at anything. I’m too numb to do anything beyond staring off into space. The memories won’t stop coming, causing me to grow fearful that they’ll consume me completely.

Dean surrounds me as if he were still alive. As I sit here, holding his son, I can’t help but wish I was the one who had died. I would’ve gladly taken his place, and I’m not saying that to be a fucking coward. I don’t hate my life, but I love Grey enough to wish he had his father instead of me: a piss poor substitute. Dean had the entire world at his feet and I doubt there’d be a single person who’d miss me if I was gone. To Grey, I’m a sad excuse for a father, and to my parents, I’m an embarrassment for a son. I close my eyes and let my mind drift to a time where everything seemed so simple.

Mom throws her head back and laughs as Dean and Travis give her a play-by-play of their last football game. She looks beautiful like this. Like the young, carefree woman she once was instead of the ice queen I’m used to. Dean’s stories always put her in the best of moods. She loves nothing more than to sit on the porch with her vodka and cranberry juice drink in hand, listening to the stories of her heroic, athlete son. I like to listen to my brother’s stories, as well—although, I can tell my presence annoys the fuck out of her. When I’m around, it’s a reminder that her family isn’t exactly “perfect.”

Grey’s cries pull me away from my train of thought and bring me back to the present. I don’t make a move to comfort him; despite how much my heart yearns to, my body can’t seem to move an inch. There’s a hastened knock on the door and when I don’t answer it, Ronnie lets herself in.

I hear her approach, but I don’t turn to look. I don’t want her to see me like this. Finally, my body is under my mind’s control again and I bring a crying Grey up to rest against my chest. Ronnie must think I’m a walking disaster because as soon as she sees me her beautiful face pales and it takes her a moment to recover.

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you all day.” Her voice is quiet and unsure.

“I didn’t know. My mind has been somewhere else I guess.”

“Can I sit down?”

I slide over and offer her the cushion next to me on the couch. She sits in silence for a long moment, as if she were trying to gauge the situation before opening her sweet mouth. I appreciate it—I really do—but part of me just wants to be alone, while another part of me yearns for her like a moth to a flame. Seeing Travis has fucked with my head and now I feel like I barely know which way is up.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Fuck, do I want to talk about it? I’m aching to get these thoughts off my chest, but I don’t want it to change the way Ronnie looks at me. I don’t feel comfortable showing my emotions period, let alone with a girl I’m so insanely invested in. We haven’t even fucked yet and here I am considering baring my soul to her. This is a far cry from something the “old” Trevor would do. Hell, I wouldn’t even attempt to connect emotionally with anyone at all.

I turn to her and she looks at me with a face contorted with confusion. My eyes sweep over her huge green eyes, her high cheekbones, and her luscious lips—enjoying the way her bottom lip is slightly plumper than the top. What I wouldn’t give to bite that lip and pull it gently between my own right now. I feel my tongue dart out and run across my bottom lip before I bite down to stifle a groan. I’m trying to control myself from doing what I really want to do. Her eyes fall to my lips and her face flushes as she watches the motion play out. I don’t want to talk—I just want to get lost in the feel of her. Before I know what I’m doing, I bring my lips to meet hers.

My lips gently toy with hers, relishing in their salty taste. They’re softer than I imagined and I wonder if the rest of her is just as soft and sweet. Before I can deepen the kiss with my tongue, she pulls away, blushing a little. She’s no innocent—but she blushes like one. It only turns me on even more. I just want to pull her into my room and corrupt her completely. However, the crying baby against my chest prevents me from doing that. My judgement prevents me from moving further as well. I don’t want to rush things with her. I want to show her just how much I care about her.

“What was that for?” she asks, breathlessly.

“Do I need a reason? I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you.”

She smiles and tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear. “I’ve thought about the same thing.”

As soon as I don’t have something physical to focus on my demeanor returns to the grim one I’ve been sporting since I ran into Travis.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Ronnie asks as she notices the change in me.

I’m quiet for a long time. I rock Grey in my arms and wonder if I’m ready to open up to someone like this. If I’m going to tell anyone what’s on my mind, I’d tell Ronnie. I turn to face her, taking a deep breath before I say the words I never want to admit out loud. I feel as soon as I say them—admit to the truth—I’ll finally have to face my grim fucking reality. 

“My brother, Dean, died a little over three months ago.”

Her eyes widen and fill with sympathy. She reaches out to take one of my hands in hers. “Trev, I’m so sorry. You two were very close, weren’t you?”

I nod, feeling the muscles in my jaw tense and my eyes sting with tears. I take a moment to get control of myself. “He and my sister-in-law died in a car accident.” My voice fucking cracks and I pause before continuing. “A drunk driver hit their car…” I trail off, closing my eyes as they sting with tears.

Her eyes fill with tears. As one falls down her cheek, I let go of her hand to gently wipe it away. “Don’t cry for me. It’s all over now and I’ve been trying to move on.”

“I would’ve never known, Trev. You hide everything so well.”

“I don’t know about that. I feel like I’m constantly on the verge of falling apart.”

“You’re so much stronger than you think.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you.”

She says this without any hesitation and I can’t begin to describe the way her words make me feel. She always knows just what to say to me and I’m so fucking thankful for that… for her.

“I saw his best friend today when I was at a diner having lunch with Grey. I haven’t seen Travis since I attended Dean and Cat’s wedding,” I tell her with a bitter laugh.

Ronnie’s quiet, grasping my hand again and allowing me time to continue when I’m ready.

“It was so fucking weird seeing him, Ronnie. It’s as if I’d been confronted with my past and it stung more than I’d ever could’ve imagined. When I looked at Travis, I couldn’t help but see my brother, Dean. I feel like shit for feeling that way because I know he’s suffering, too, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him. It was just that he and Dean are so fucking alike. It’s just a morbid reminder for me.”

When I finally meet Ronnie’s gaze, I find a plethora of understanding. She’s obviously been through some shit, too—maybe one day she’ll tell me about it. Until that day comes, I wouldn’t dream of pressuring her. I can’t believe I doubted her before. I thought she’d look at me with pity, something I’ve gotten far too much of recently. However, while she’s sympathetic, she doesn’t feel sorry for me. Instead, she connects with me on an even deeper level.

“I understand. I understand more than you know, Trev. I promise it’ll get better. Time may not heal your wounds, but it makes them bearable.”

“Am I selfish for blowing him off? Should I reach out to him?”

“Just do what is right for you. I’m sure he’d understand that. When the time is right, you’ll know.”

Time dulls all wounds. God, I hope she’s right because I can’t bear this pain forever.