Skies Do Fall

Brendon wanted me, yet he acted so oblivious to that statement the entire day.

He didn’t talk to me or look at me in the eye during that whole eight-hour day.

I guess part of that has to do with my emotionless attitude. I went with the flow without a single remark or reaction. I walked, wrote, and listened, but solemnly spoke or paid any focus to anything or anyone. The only time I talked was when I got asked to recite the basic elements of an equation in Algebra 2.

At lunch, Tristan didn’t bug me; he knew I was having a rough time and it was useless to try and get an answer out of me. Ram rambled on to Brendon the entire time, so neither of them spoke to me either. All the rest of the people that sat with us hardly talked to me anyways, so it wasn’t much of an issue.

I took the bus home so I wouldn’t have to talk to Brendon. At home, I did my homework and then shifted back to the normal depressing routine I’d constructed during the condensed break. I didn’t eat dinner since I had lunch. I could live on one meal a day.

The next day Brendon didn’t ride the bus in the morning. Later, I unintentionally learned that Ram had now included Brendon in her normal morning carpool, meaning that he was not going to be riding the bus anymore.

The pattern never changed. A month or so passed and the harsh winter winds of Vegas died down to a chilly breeze as Valentine’s Day approached.

My father was now spending immense amounts of time away from our family. I could see that it was getting to my mom a little, and they even argued a bit about it every once in a while when my dad was gone for ridiculous periods of time. Things were worse than ever.

On the morning of February 14th, Tristan finally spoke up to me.

I was pulling on my jacket and was about to leave for the bus stop, when out marched Tristan with the most determined expression I’ve ever seen him wear.

He advanced towards me with a crease in between his eyebrows before half-shouting, “Robin, I demand to know what is wrong with you!”

I merely looked down as I zipped up my jacket and shrugged, not peeping out a word.

Tristan gave a slight push to my shoulder, making me peer back up at him.

With an even sterner tone, he commanded again, “Tell me what’s wrong or I’ll never speak to you again. Don’t think I’m joking because you know that I can be as mute as Bambi if I wanted to be.”

I sighed and almost inaudibly mumbled, “Give up. I’m not going to tell you.”

Just when I had the front door open and could feel the upcoming spring’s breeze lick my face, Tristan pulled me back to face him. With serious teal eyes, he said, “Robby, you aren’t healthy. You hardly eat, you never sleep, and you never talk. I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard you laugh, more-or-less smile. You always have bags and dark circles underneath your eyes. I can see the cheek bones of your face, you’re so skinny. And you dress like you’re colorblind.”

I shrugged out of his tight grasp and hissed, “So?”

Tristan’s face softened and with it came the underlying empathy of pain and yearning. His voice held deep compassion as he gently replied, “I just want my old little sister back. I want to help you. I don’t want you…I don’t want to wake up one morning to find that you’ve…hung yourself or…died of starvation or…shot yoursel---Jesus, I can’t even go on.” And the most shocking thing happened….

Tristan began to cry.

It’s one thing to see your mother, sister, aunt, or grandmother cry, but to see your older brother, your endearing, strong older brother, break down and sob was downright heartbreaking.

He reached out and clasped me into his embrace, burying his weeps into my shoulder while gripping onto me for dear life. I held him tight too, knowing that he needed me right now, emotionless anorexic robot or not.

I waited till his bawling lulled into meek sniffles, and then he lifted his head from my shoulder. His glassy aquamarine orbs absorbed my face as he breathed, “Thank you, Robin. Please just stay with me.”

I bit my lip and nodded. “I’ll always stay with you, Tristan. I’ll never leave you.”

With a watery grin, Tristan twined me into another sincere embrace before he uttered, “Better hurry. Don’t want to miss that bus, huh?” Then, he gave me one last smile before turning and prancing back up the stairs to his bedroom.

Suddenly, I was strikingly jealous of Tristan. He was lucky to not have to go to school until 9 o’clock every day. I wished I could remain in my desolate phase for an hour before I had to get my education in full.

Blowing out an unfathomable exhale, I wounded back to the front door and returned on my normal morning pathway to school.

Today was different. I guess it was because of the ‘love in the air’ or, in other words, the Valentine’s Day spirit, but things were definitely anything but typical or ordinary.

For one, Brendon was waiting for me at the bus stop when I had taken the time to notice the slouched figure slumped on the curb.

I didn’t cat whistle or poke him in the back like my normal personality would have been tempted to do. Instead, I just stood a distance away, praying that he wouldn’t hear my shallow breathing or the feedback of my C.D player.

My plan would have worked out easily had it not been for the dumbass bee that attacked Brendon after two minutes of undisturbed ease.

First, Brendon jumped haphazardly, making me catch my breath in mid-gasp. Then, he began to repeatedly jolt left and right, blindly swiping the air with his lanky arms. He finally relaxed a little until….

“Holy shit!” Brendon shouted, scrambling to his feet before squinting his eyes closed and running over towards me. He continued to swipe the air with his arms, dancing around before coming to a stop right next to me.

Peeking one wide eye open, he scanned the area and meet my pleading gaze. Then, he opened his other eye just as widely as the other, his jaw flexing open at my presence.

“W-when did you…how come you…how long have you been hiding back here?” Brendon questioned, stammering with shock.

I guess it was since Tristan got me in the talking, reacting mood this morning or maybe I was just happy to be communicating with Brendon for once, but whatever the case, I gave him a worthwhile answer.

Resisting the urge to shrug his question off, I answered, “I’m not sure. Couldn’t have been more than five minutes though.”

I’m not sure if it was the shock of my use of verbal words or if he was just speechlessly angry that I had been trying to hide from him, but he just wordlessly stood there.

After a minute of watching Brendon gape at me like a dried-out fish taken from its water habitat, I finally rounded up enough to courage to quietly ask, “Are you mad at me?”

I focused my eyes on the cement sidewalk underneath us instead of making Brendon the lead role of my focal point. I could feel his intense gaze upon my face, but I chose to ignore the deep, invisible intensity of his eyes.

“Well,” Brendon sighed. “Not really mad but more…offended, I guess. I mean, it’s not a great feeling to know that you are purposefully hiding from me---“

“No,” I meekly objected without looking up to meet his confused stare. “I meant are you mad at me in general. It just kind of seems like you are since you’ve put so much effort into shunning me out of your life.” Even though it was said in such a quiet and fragile voice, there was so much complicated and deep empathy hidden behind the words.

I could hear Brendon absorbing those words, hear his breath intake cease as he wrapped his head around my frail request to explain himself. I knew this was going to be a difficult moment…for both of us.

A few stretched-out seconds passed before Brendon spoke again.

Instead of using his obnoxiously loud normal voice, his voice was low and tender, “I’m not purposefully shunning you out of my life, Robs. I just need some space. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I am trying to get away from you. If I’m always around you, I won’t be able to go on with Ram. I’m just going to keep wanting you. I need to try and get rid of these feelings for you.”

I took those words in with caution. I couldn’t get excited that he still wanted me, and I couldn’t be upset that he was trying to extinguish those feelings. I just had to be there for him and I had to be tough. I had to be Robin.

“I understand,” I stated with an unsuccessful attempt at a smile. “You are doing the right thing, Brendon. I’m proud of you.”

Brendon went blank with shock at my understanding attitude before breaking into a grateful smile. Then, he reached into his backpocket for something.

He pulled out a poorly wrapped box and his grin flexed to one side sheepishly.

“I know it’s wrong since I’ve got Ram and all, but I think it would have felt even more wrong if I wouldn’t have got you anything. And since I didn’t get you anything for Christmas, I guess this is necessary,” Brendon explained, gently placing the tiny present into my palms.

Before I could respond, Brendon gave me another sideways grin before scampering off towards our bus, which had just suddenly appeared.

I looked back down at the present with hitched breath. It was wrapped in, what I was guessing, leftover Christmas wrapping paper, multicolored snowmen and snowflakes decorating the laminated surface. It was taped over and crumpled in some places, definitely Brendon’s style of wrapping, but I couldn’t help but feel…unbelievable ecstatic.

I felt like I could fucking soar the skies! Brendon had got me something! Me!

Who knew the emotionless robot could feel so much love?