Sinking Faster

“Garrett, are we almost there yet?” I asked, attempting to keep my pace steady with his. He was a good few inches taller than I was, and he was also more eager to get there. “I feel like I’m about to collapse. I didn’t sign up for an immense workout.”

My legs, by now, at about five in the morning, felt like jello, and the darkness of the night didn’t really do anything to help it. Once and a while my eyes would meet with the blinding light of a car speeding by, dismissing my state of exhaustion at once.

A few feet ahead of me, Garrett stopped. He turned around to face me, grinning, his white teeth visible. “Just relax. It’s only a few blocks ahead. At least that’s what Nick told me.”

I grimaced. “Nick was hammered," I stated flatly, quickening my pace. "He couldn’t tell left from right. He just walked into the wall.”

I heard him chuckle, speeding ahead again. “He seemed fine to me. And besides, I really want a Slurpee, okay? I don’t think it’s that far ahead.”

“Okay,” I replied reluctantly, catching up to him. The road stretched ahead of us. We continued to pass the speed limit and stop signs, maneuvering our way in between the thick, white lines separating us from getting hit from behind by a brooding insomniac.

I heard crickets chirping, soon feeling the mild breeze that interrupted the humid air from seeping into my skin. It was both pacifying and eerie at the same time. I figured that no harm could be made since Garrett was with me.

I looked over at him, his hair tousled, his eyes content in the focus of the street lamps above us. He looked both weary and exhausted, but it was beside the fact that he had no desire to sleep. As I could recall, he was unseeingly disheveled in appearance these past few days, his face unshaven, a thin line across his upper lip. His hair was almost always tousled and shaggy, but either way, it was evident that this boy hadn’t consumed at least a few hours of sleep anytime soon. I looked down at the tarmac of the road, sliding my hands into my back pockets.

Garrett had gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend. And being the nosy person that I am, I decided to ask him about her.

“So…” I turned to him, biting my lip, attempting to interrupt the silence. “How’s things with Jessica? That’s her name, right?”

“Yeah, it is,” he yawned, shrugging. “I’m not sure. At this point, I don’t really care how things are anymore.”

“Oh,” I raised my eyebrow out of curiosity. “Did anything happen?”

And I was genuinely curious; I most certainly wasn’t trying to pry; I had no ulterior motives up my sleeves, and besides, I had my own plate full of problems right now.

He then rubbed the back of his neck, looking at me, hesitant. “Uh, well, she doesn’t like the fact that I’m not home all the time. I have a feeling she thinks I’m cheating on her or something.” I beckoned for him to continue.

“And I’m not. I mean, there’s a handful of girls that are definitely noteworthy, but at the end of the day, none of them compare to her,” he told me simply, smirking at me.

“Then why don’t you tell her that?” I asked, ignoring the expression on his face.

“I do! I tell her that all the time. But it’s never really enough. At the end of a show, or even if we come across a party here or there, she thinks I’m automatically going to do shit with someone. Sure, I could be trashed out of my mind, with the temptation definitely there, but shit, I still know how to control myself,” he replied obstinately, shaking his head.

My instinct was that that last bit was directed toward me, but I made no mention of it. Garrett would, I think, always have that impression of me. The impression that I was capable of being so measurable and shallow. But hey, maybe I was.

I had never been in a serious relationship of any sort. I had never been cheated on, nor have I ever cheated on anyone. I guess it was just a no-strings-attached phenomenon, of which did not require the give and take aspect of a relationship. It was entirely egocentric; there was no serious emotion, no focus. It was just there when applicable. Thus, I had no credibility of proving to him that I was anything otherwise.

“Well, if that’s the truth, maybe you should just tell her to come visit you for a little while,” I offered, shaking away my previous thoughts.

He sighed, frowning. “That’s just it. She has school. School, school, school,” he gazed ahead apparently in deep thought. “Sometimes, I can’t fathom as to why we’re even still together. That we’ve lasted this long. This is giving me more problems than I can handle right now.”

As of now, we were walking toward an empty intersection, the stoplights flashing aimlessly, although there were no cars around to direct. I saw the gas station diagonally across from the corner we were approaching, a 7-Eleven sitting dimly amongst it.

“Maybe you should just end things with her. Permanently this time,” I said softly.

Stopping at the corner, he paused to look at me, relucantly. “The thing is, I don’t think I can. It’s harder than it seems.”

“Yeah, but what’s the point? If all it’s just bringing more shit for you?” I asked, clearly baffled.

It was simple, wasn’t it? The answer was visible, right within his reach. If it was proving to be this bothersome to him, then why not? It would be a waste to put all of that energy into something so unpromising and unpredictable. It was almost like gambling, in a sense.

How could you put so much of yourself aside, even if the verdict seemed not to be in your favor?

I tried to understand, to be as reproachful as I could be, but it was useless and incomprehensible, for his experiences, as well as mine, were so diverse.

“See, this is what I mean,” he said, tilting his head to the side, smirking. “You’re so…paranoid. Skeptical. It’s almost unsettling, ya know?”

I shrugged, crossing my arms, as I always did when he managed to make me feel discomforted.

“You just have to fight for shit sometimes. Even if it’s not worth it, I guess. It would be useless just to let it slip away, right?”

With the same apathetic expression that I always carried, I shrugged my shoulders yet again, leading the way across the street.

Who was I to give him my advice?

He was right, in his discreet way of telling me...

I had none.