One Shot to Remember

I sat at my table, stairing down at its wooden pattern. The buzz of conversation around me was drown out by my inward silence. I felt hollow. Filled with tears I couldn't cry. If I thought about it, I knew I would.

My name being called gently urged me back to awareness. I noticed the ragged boy, who was now sitting beside me.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

I blinked my eyes, and nodded slowly. Conor always watched me. At this point he's the only one who does.

Conor was the only person who noticed my existence, anymore. But he just seemed to be that sort of person. The kind who notice details.

He reached out and patted my hand, in a comforting way, studying me closely for a reaction.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"I've been fine," I lied. "How are you?"

"I'm alright. I have a show tonight, if you want to come." he suggested.

"I'll ask my father."

"Alright. I'll look forward to seeing you there," he smiled slightly.

When the bell rang I stood, quickly attempting to escape the classroom. I flinched slightly, when I felt Conor's hand gently clamp around my wrist.

"Can I walk with you?" he smiled.

I glanced toward the ground, in a small nod, waiting for him to release my wrist.

Letting go, he stood, and walked beside me into the hall. I resumed my usual place, dragging my fingers across unoccupied lockers as I passed. From time to time I felt Conor's eyes on me.

"Jamie," he started. "Do you remember fifth grade?"

"What about it?" I asked, looking at him strangely.

"We..we used to be friends," he mumbled softly, hesitantly.

"But, we're friends now..." I trailed, looking to him, as I stopped at my locker.

"Of course, I just mean..." he paused. "We don't hang out any more. I ask, but you never show up."

I sighed, putting my things into my back pack. Swallowing, I pulled it over my shoulders. I closed my locker, and turned to him.

"My dad doesn't let me do much." I staired at his shoes.

He sighed. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

He turned and walked toward the doors. I hesitated for a moment, watching him go. Taking a deep breath, I followed him out of the school. He began walking in the direction of my house, like he knew it by heart, even though I couldn't recall him every being there. I sighed lightly, unsettled by the silence. Conor quietly started to hum a sad sounding tune. I bit my bottom lip, attempting to come up with a topic of conversation.

"Do you remember Ashton's birthday party?" I asked, remembering how much fun I had, had with my friends.

"Yeah. I remember. You got mad and pushed me in the pool." he smiled and laughed.

"You..." I paused. "You weren't having any fun!"

"So you pushed me in the pool?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Sorry about that." I glanced at the ground.

"So, what do you like to do?" he looked at me.

"Uhhh.." I thought. "I watch tv."

"You should go to shows. I think you'd like the experience."

"I'll try." I answered as we came to my house. "Thanks for walking with me, Conor."

"It's no problem. And no matter what you say, I'm picking you up at 6." he said turning back in the direction we came.

"I should really ask my fath-" I started, but he interrupted.

"Ask your father. I know, I know. You should come anyway." he smiled, before leaving me there.

I staired after him for a moment, before turning to my house. Dread filled my body, as I walked to the door, pushing it open, my heart sinking. I walked to the couch and turned the tv on and set my bag down on the couch. I slowly made my way down the hall to my room, becoming more and more numb with every step. Once inside I walked to my window, and closed the blinds.

I tugged my shirt over my head and slid out of my jeans. Shaking I sat down on my bed and laid back stairing at the ceiling. Waiting.

After a moment I heard the door creak open, followed by foot steps as my father entered the room.

"How was your day, Sweet Heart?" he asked, standing over me.

"Fine." I answered, beginning to feel nauseous.

I closed my eyes, wishing I was someone else. Hoping it wouldn't take long. Wishing it was over.
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I sat watching tv. Watching the normal people. Wishing I were them. I had taken three showers in the past two hours, and I still felt unclean.

Being slightly hopeful, I had dressed a little more nicely then I usually would, hopping I could get away with leaving after dark. Waiting patiently for Conor, to save me from my very own private hell.

After a moment I heard a light knock at the door. I quickly jumped to my feet, placing my pre-written excuse to my father on a counter in the kitchen. I opened the door, to find Conor looking toward the sky. He opened his mouth to speak, but I quickly placed my index finger over my lips, hushing him.

He reached a hand out for me to take. Grabbing a white jacket off of the coat wrack, I slid it over my shoulders, and took his hand. He lead me to his car, and opened the passenger door for me, closing it after I had gotten in. Once he got in the car, we were off, and I felt the best I had in years.

"Your father agree?" he asked.

"Uhh.. sure." I replied with a smile.

He laughed, then turned on the radio. The tune filled my ears and calmed me down. Once the vocals started, I was amazed to realize it was Conors voice, blaring out of the speakers. His voice cut deep into my heart and his lyrics burned into my mind.

"This is you?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah. It is." he glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "Do you like it?"

"It's sad." I said, looking at my friend for a long moment.

For the first time, I realized that Conor looked like a mess. Conor looked unbaringly sad. He almost looked like he was dying. He looked worse then me. I was so caught up in my problems, I didn't even realize someone else could have them. But most startling of all, Conor looked beautiful.

My attention was drawn out the window as we passed through the city. It had been so long since I had seen the city at night. Conor stopped at a red light, and I could feel his eyes on me. He brushed his finger tips across my cheek, which sent a small dagger of pain through my face. Without thinking I flinched away from his hand.

"How did you get that bruise? It wasn't there earlier." he looked back out the windshield.

"I tripped in the shower." I said numbly.

Conor dismissed the conversation, as he turned into the parking lot of a club. He turned off the car, and got out, hurrying around to my side and opening the door for me again, before I even got the chance.

"Thanks." I mumbled.

He got his guitar from the back seat, slinging it over his back, before pulling a small laminated piece of paper on a string from his pocket and putting it over my head.

"It's just in case you need to get back stage after the show." he smiled.

I offered him a smile in return and followed shyly behind him, as he led me into the club. Once inside he led me to a table and pulled out a chair for me.

"I need to go get ready for the show. Get something to drink." he suggested handing me a ten dollar bill.

"Conor, I can get it myself." I protested.

He just smiled and turned walking to the stage. He pulled himself onto the stage before disappearing behind the curtain.

I sighed inwardly. He made things so difficult. Standing I walked to the bar, asking the bartender for a glass of water. He pushed the glass across the counter and I handed him the cash, telling him to keep the change.

I took my water and sat down in my seat, waiting, and stairing down into the plastic cup. The sound of conversation, consumed me again. Always leaving me to my thoughts.

At the sound of a guitar ringing through the club, everyone became silent. I lifted my gaze to the stage, where I could see Conor standing, looking at me. I gave him a small smile, as he began his first song.

As he sang, he had his eyes shut, glancing up at me from time to time, but quickly averting his gaze.

Each syllable of every word sank into me, and cut me into pieces. Even if by technical terms the notes were badly sung, they sounded raw and beautiful. They meant something.

I staired back down into my cup, as he ended the song, and explained the title, before announcing the next song.

"Saturday As Usual," he said trailing off. "Virgina's almost sleeping, the night is almost over..."

He sang the whole song keeping eye contact with me, it was difficult to look away, but hurt seeing everything flashing through his eyes as he sang.

After a couple more songs he left the stage, to a small round of applause. After a moment I noticed his shoes on the ground in front of me.

"Your always looking down." he said, tugging on my bangs lightly.

"You have nice shoes." I mumbled lamely.

"Thank you." he chuckled quietly, before offering me his hand. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah."

I took his hand and he pulled me out of the club. And we were back in the car. Sitting there in awkwardness.

"Do you want to go back home?" he asked stairing out the windshield, his hands on the wheel.

"Not really." I answered, quickly.

With that he started the car, and began to drive. To where I wasn't sure, but he seemed to know.

"Which one was your favorite?" he asked, drawing me back to my senses.

"Umm, the second one was beautiful." I mumbled keeping my eyes on my hands.

We were silent for a long time, before he stopped by an empty field. Confused, I watched as he got out of the car, and did the same.

He offered his hand out to me again, and I took it, him leading me into the field. The only noises were the wind and the sound of our foot steps.

I closed my eyes when he stopped, somewhere in the middle of the field. I felt his other hand slip around mine.

"What are you hiding?" he asked in a whisper. "Why do you look like your always gonna cry."

A lump formed in my throat, and a shudder erupted through my body. I overflowed. I cried.

He placed his hands on either side of my face, and pressed his lips to my forehead.

"I'm here. You can tell me." he whispered gently in my ear, holding me close.