Going Alone

I waited on my couch, anxious. Mainly, I was anxious because Alex sounded like shit, I’ve never seen him cry. I guess I thought he was some man-whore robot who could only feel lust, with a side of happy. He knocked on my door, quietly at first, but then gave up and just started hitting the door. I glided over, flinging my door open.

He looked as awful as he sounded. His hair was matted from the February rain and his face was unwashed. His body looked darker than normal, like he just stepped out of a black and white movie. I noticed his lip had fresh bite marks from them, probably from trying to stop his crying. Grabbing his hand, I engulfed him in a hug and closed my door.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly, rolling my eyes at the dumb question.

He wrapped his arms around my neck, which was kind of an awkward position because he was at least 5 inches taller than me. I rubbed his back soothingly, trying to stand on the tops of my toes.

“Alex?” I got his attention when I pulled away, “What’s wrong?”

He looked away from me and wiped his nose on the sleeve of long-sleeve plaid button up. It fit loosely on him, but I didn’t know it was meant to look like that, or he just wasn’t eating. I grabbed his hand and pulled him to my couch, pushing him down.

“Do you even want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” His voice was strangled and tight.

“So you just want to stay here?” I clarified.

“Yeah.” He said quietly, just barely above a whisper.

“Well, then at least lay down in my bed, okay? I’m kind of really tired.” I started walking back to my room.

Alex reluctantly followed, shuffling his feet. I got out some pajamas for me, and tossed him some long flannel pajama pants that fit me snugly. After I changed in the bathroom, I snuck into the kitchen and grabbed a jar of extra chunky peanut butter and padded back to my room. Alex was curled up in the fetal position, which was very freaky, considering that the Alex inside and outside of me were doing the same thing.

“I brought you some peanut butter.” I smiled and carefully slid into bed.

He didn’t say anything, but took the jar. I stifled a laugh when he hugged it into his chest. Propping myself up on my left side, I turned to him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Yes.” He glared down at the peanut butter.

“It seems like you do, I mean, why would you come all the way over here?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Did you and Jack get in a fight?”

He shook his head.

“Are you still mad about the letter?”

He shook his head again, more tears forming in his eyes.

I sighed out of frustration, “Did you get another girl pregnant.”

“No.” He closed his eyes tight.

“Do you have an STD?”

He shook his head, his eyes still closed.

“Maybe you should eat some peanut butter.” I offered, “It’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Please?” I begged, “Just a bite?”

He shook his head again. I reached over to the clear jar and opened it for him. Holding it in front of him, I waved it in front of his nose, trying to entice him. Alex just turned his nose from it and stared at my light grey wall. Sighing, but not giving up, I stuck a finger in the thick substance and placed it in my mouth. I let out an obvious fake moan.

“Fine, I’ll eat it!” He snapped, yanking the jar from me.

Although it was a little rough for my liking, I was pleased with the outcome. I watched him swirl a finger around the jar and suck it off his finger. His eyes still held sadness, even though the taste of honey roasted peanut butter should’ve “turned his frown upside down.” I guess this matter is something that peanut butter couldn’t fix.

“Do you feel better?” I tested, wrapping the blanket around me tighter.

“No.” He said sourly.

“Come on, tell me.” I said, rubbing his arm.

“It’s my Mom.” He stated.

“What about her? Did she die?”

“No.” I was getting sick of the short answers.

“Then why are you so sad?”

“She found out.”

“About what? About me?”

“Yeah.” His eyes hardened into the peanut butter.

“And you’re upset because…?”

“Because she said she was disappointed in me!” He burst, now glaring at me.

I studied the situation for a few moments. Alex was here, in my bed, in a weakened state because, I guess, his Mom yelled at him. Somehow, this wasn’t adding up. Wasn’t Alex the ‘wild child?’ He must have disappointed his Mom a lot in his life.

“So you’re crying because your Mom is disappointed?” I accidentally snapped.

“No, Mae. She said that Gabriel would be disappointed in me, too.” His voice sliced through me.