Finger on the Trigger to My Dear Juliet

“H-He’s what?”

“Charlie, he’s in the hospital”

I clutched the phone so tightly in my hands I thought it would break, wringing the cord around my hands.

“Is he okay?” I asked, ashamed when my voice broke. Max sighed on the other end.

“He has three broken ribs, a fractured skull, and his face is fucked up. What do you think? He’s still making lame-ass jokes though,” He continued. “So I guess he’s fine. He’s holding on, Charlie.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a definite wetness behind my eyes.

“Alright, I’ll be there tonight, okay? Just make sure you’re there too.”

“W-wait, Charlie what d’you mean?”

“I…” I shot my father a cursory glance, lowering my voice. “I can’t come now. I’ll sneak out tonight and come see him.”

It sounded as though Max was grinding his teeth.

“You know visiting hours aren’t at eleven at night, right?”

“I’ll find some way,” I reassured him. He sighed, his breath crackly over the phone.

“Fine. I’ll see you tonight, I suppose.”

“Bye.” And then the dial tone.

I slammed the phone in its cradle hard enough to crack it before walking up to my room and collapsing on my bed, squeezing my eyes shut.

You don’t exactly expect your friend to just get squashed by a truck. That was never on my agenda, but here we are.

You could tell from his attitude that Max was irritated with me. He wouldn’t look at me for more than five fucking seconds, and whenever Ronnie made any contact with me his face would contort into some expression on disgust.

I know Ronnie’s been pretty flirtatious lately, but hey. It’s not my fucking fault. I’m just pleased that we’re all on speaking terms again.

I snorted. Max must be feeling pretty guilty now that Ronnie’s all bandaged up and given a shitload of drugs to tide him and the pain over. Immediately following my thoughts a wave of remorse and sickness came over me.

Of course Max was worried. He was probably more worried than I was. I imagined the beginnings of an ulcer churning away in my stomach. And Ronnie’s family. Well, you didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that his dad would be ripping his hair out with frustration and anxiety. I knew Tony wouldn’t give a flying fuck.

I’d met Tony once before, when I was being fashionably late to school, and I saw him standing outside on his house’s porch, considerably smashed and urinating on one of the bushes near the walkway. He turned when he heard me walking down the street, giving me a glorious view of his chicken legs.

He asked me if I was ‘that chick that hangs out with Ronnie’, and when I said yes promptly gave me the bird and began trying to write his name on the sidewalk with his own piss.

Needless to say, he didn’t exactly give me a very good first impression. I never told Ronnie about our encounter because he would be ashamed and embarrassed of his brother.

I spent the remainder of the hours until my father went to sleep listening to music softly, trying to contain my thoughts and formulate a plan for how exactly I was going to get from my house all the way to the hospital, which was at least a mile away.

See, we used to live in a nice, big house near all the families with rich kids and wealthy grandparents, the kind that get big, shiny red cars for their sixteenth birthday. Then my father just decided to go out driving while intoxicated, my mother sleeping soundly in the shotgun seat. On came a red light. Away went my father’s compliance for the law. Boom went the car, boom went my mother.

What a happy fucking ending.

I pulled on a sweatshirt over my body, slipping on my shoes as I headed down the stairs, careful not to make any sound. I grabbed the keys to my mother’s old car that my father had hidden behind the microwave in a feeble attempt to keep them from me. Sneaking out the back door, I ran to the car and closed the door as quickly as I could, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror before taking off down the street.

I took my time, although my foot was just itching to push down harder on the gas pedal. I didn’t want to get pulled over and interrogated why I didn’t have a license and why I was driving at ten forty-six at night.

I pulled into the hospital’s parking lot, locking the car doors and heading up for the large building with the bright lights. After I walked through the front doors and into the waiting room, I looked around to try and find Max, but I didn’t see him anywhere. I walked up to the receptionist at the desk, who smiled at me.

“Hi, could you tell me what room Ronald Radke is in?” I asked quietly. The receptionist’s smile never faded, giving me the impression that it was pasted onto her overly done-up face.

“Are you a relative?” She asked, and I nodded, barely feeling the lie. She checked some papers in a file before looking back up at me.

“He’s in room 142. Up the first flight of stairs, third door on the left.”

“Thank you,” I told her, already walking in the direction she indicated.

My feet felt incredibly squeaky on these waxed floors, and I felt paranoid as I saw some people’s eyes twitch to me before looking back to their magazines or just idly around the room in search for something interesting to watch as they waited.

I’d always hated hospitals. Ever since I was born. When my mother died, my father and I had to come here to say goodbye; she was put on life support even though she was brain dead.

I can recall me sitting next to her bed, my father out in the hallway to give me some privacy, holding her manicured hand in mine and staring at her peaceful face, wondering how the hell this could happen to someone like her. I’d broken down completely, feeling as if I didn’t get every little thing I was ashamed of and every secret I’d ever had off my chest then, I’d explode.

That was about how I felt when I saw Ronnie laying peacefully on the bed, bandages wrapped around his head and casts over his body, Max slumped over in a chair with a blanket around him. I wanted to tell them both everything, everything that I was keeping a secret. But I couldn’t.

“Hey,” I whispered, shaking Max awake. His eyes opened slowly, and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth when he saw me, his voice rough and croaky.

“Hey. You’re here.”

I fit my lip, flicking my fingers as I stared at Ronnie. He looked so small on the hospital bed, laying there in a hospital Johnny.

“How’s he doing?”

Max ran a hand through his hair, sighing before answering.

“He’s doing better than he was earlier. Doctors say he’s responding well to the morphine and all the other shit they’re giving him. His dad left about two hours ago,” He added. “He has to take care of Ronnie’s brother. The asshole.”

I grinned at Max’s words.

“Want to get something to drink?” I asked, motioning for the door. He nodded.

“I need something to keep me awake now.”

We both got up, giving Ronnie one last look before heading off towards the vending machines. The hospital only sold Coke products, so we both got two regular cans. I said that I wanted to go up on the roof, ignoring Max’s dumbfounded look and searched for the door that led to outside.

A soft breeze was blowing, and I leaned against the rough outside wall, sliding down and sitting next to Max, staring out into the darkness.

At first the only sound was us sipping our drinks, until Max began talking.

“What’s your favorite color?”

I nearly choked on my soda.

“Where the fuck did that come from?”

Max coughed in embarrassment, but continued.

“I don’t know. I was just wondering, you know?”

“You’re such a creeper,” I retorted, shaking my head and smiling.

“Whatever, Charlie,” He said, and the silence resumed again, until I voiced my thoughts after a few moments.

“My favorite color is blue,” I began, looking straight ahead and feeling Max’s eyes on me. “My favorite band is your guys’ band, because I just know it’s going to be kickass when it happens. My favorite thing in the world is when you do that pencil-flicking thing when you’re bored and you twirl it around in a circle in your fingers. My favorite book is Pride and Prejudice, ‘cause I love romance and Mr. Darcy is a sexy beast. My favorite animal is a raccoon because, let’s face it, they’re so fucking cute and adorable and sneaky, and my favorite song is Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park.”

I looked over at Max, who was staring at me in awe. I felt my cheeks begin to flame, and my pulse increase as I realized how close we were to each other at this moment.

“God, you’re weird,” He chuckled, before grabbing my chin and kissing me, setting his soda can down on the concrete. I set my own down as well before wrapping my arms around his neck, breathing in his scent.

I giggled as I felt him bite my bottom lip and tug slightly, his hands grabbing my thighs and pulling me onto his lap.

An excited flutter ran through me as I repressed the urge to moan, Max’s hand traveling up my shirt. My nails dug into the back of his neck as I kissed him harder, running my tongue over his bottom lip in a desperate plea for entry. He obliged, his tongue assaulting mine before pulling away to move down to my cheek, my neck, my collarbone.

I moaned softly as he bit down on the sensitive skin, and I felt laughter echo through his body. By this point we were both leaning heavily against the wall, my legs spread around Max’s torso, one of his hands up my shirt and the other pulling my waist closer to him by my belt loops.

“Goddamn, Charlie,” He groaned, and I laughed breathlessly, gasping when he caught one of my breasts in his hand and squeezed it.

“Max,” I moaned, louder this time. I could feel his smirk on my skin as he smiled proudly.

“I don’t think we can bang on a roof,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against his. His eyes sparkled mischievously at me, his breathing also heavy.

“Why not?” He asked, and I rolled my eyes.

“It would be really uncomfortable, for one…”

“Fuck it, I’m not letting you be such a tease and get away with it,” He said, and I laughed.

“I give you a boner, Max? I’m so sorry,” I teased. He chuckled.

Quick as a flash he spun me around so my back was pressed against the wall, and he was over me, a sly grin on his face. His lips caught mine again and I moaned into the kiss as I felt him grinding his hips against mine.

“Max,” I whispered. “I can’t do this now.”

I heard him groan. “Why not?” His voice was muffled as he buried his face into my neck.

“We’re on a roof for one,” I said, laughing. “And I just can’t when Ronnie’s fucking hospitalized.”

Max reluctantly pulled away from me, sighing.

“I want you,” He said. “Right now.” An excited shiver ran through me.

“Yeah, well we’re gonna have to wait, okay?”

He whined like a little kid before throwing his face back down onto my lap. I pat his head.

“Fuck,” He groaned, dragging the word out until it had five more syllables than originally.

“It’s alright,” I told him. “Just think about this in your little alone time in the shower and you’ll be fine.”

He looked up at me with wide eyes, and I smiled down at him.

“You really are something else, Charlie. Goddamn.”

And we stayed up there until both of our posteriors were too numb and our eyelids too heavy to stay up on the roof any longer.