Almost Lost It All

8 PM.

Jen called Zack, too. All she told him was that she talked to me is what he said.

He's hiding something from you.
No. I trust my best friend to tell me anything I need to know.
...Maybe he doesn't think you need to know.

I rub my face with my hands, trying really hard to forget about everything. I think I'm going to take a walk down to the beach and listen to the water. I'm hoping it'll clear my head.

Yeah, okay.

I laugh a little to myself. I'm going utterly insane. As I get up to slip my flipflops on I hear Michelle coming up the stairs down the hall. With every good emotion I have left I'm able to smile when she reaches our bedroom doorway. She grins back at me. The smile is dazzling, but I can't find the feeling to be affected much. And as I fight the horrible feeling that I don't want to see her I make my way across the room. I'm hoping she doesn't notice how hard I'm working to keep my happiness up.

"Hey baby." She chirps warmly.

"Hey." I reply in a soft voice.

I want to get around her so I can escape downstairs and out the front door but she doesn't move. I can feel a frown tug at the edges of my lips.

This is normal. Go with it. You're normal.

"I was gonna go down to the beach..." I hint.

Once Michelle hears a mention of the beach she bites her lip. A bad feeling starts to slowly rise inside of my stomach, spreading throughout my chest.

"That sounds nice," she places her hands on my shirt and fixes the collar, "but I kind of wanted to spend some time with you. I mean...only if you wanted to." She looks up at me with hopeful eyes.

What kind of a fiance would I be if I said no? She doesn't deserve me being so stupid to her. I completely ignore the sinking in my stomach and nod. She lights up with a great smirk. Without another thought she leans up and presses her lips to mine. Kissing her feels like it did in the beginning: not incredibly comfortable. It doesn't seem like we fit together. I just don't feel right.
But I kiss her back. Michelle is my fiance, why wouldn't I? Why wouldn't I want to?

When she pulls away she leads me to the bed. I secretly reluctantly slip my shoes off and crawl onto the blankets. I lie down so she can lie on my chest. She looks up at me and smiles. I keep my hands loosely on her hips because I can't stand to do anything other than this. It makes me almost hate myself.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

She can read me pretty well already, but I lie anyway and nod like before.

"You know you can tell me anything."

I lick my lips, "I know." I mutter.

I can't look at her. I turn my head slightly to look at the other side of the bed. Michelle's side. Before I can say something to break the silence a piece of film paper catches my eye. On the night stand next to the bed I can see part of an old photograph. It's black and white. As I squint to make out more detail I see it's slightly curled at a corner. I can make out the side of Jen's smile.

...

"C'mere! One picture!" I laugh as I chase her around our house with the camera I just bought her for her birthday.

"No!" She shouts back. She climbs over the kitchen table, ducks down, and hides.

Holding the camera securely in one hand I lean over and look at her through the chairs. Jen tries not to smile when she sees me. I point the camera in her direction with my finger on the button, ready to snap a shot. She jumps up from underneath the table and bolts for the kitchen door. I jump over a chair and catch her wrist before she can reach the handle. I spin her toward me and the camera flashes in the middle of her laughing.

"There we go." I say in complete triumph.

She smiles gorgeously at me. She leans back against the door in surrender, one hand up. I slide the camera onto the nearby counter to show her that I surrender too. A small smile suits my mouth as I slip an arm around her waist and pull her against me. Her dark blue-grey eyes shine at me in silent delight.

"The picture is going to be black and white, you know." She informs me in a soft voice.

"Well," I reply, "You're the photographer. Is that good or bad?"

"I love black and white. It's great for photography."

"..And?" I question.

She smirks, "You won't get to see the colour of my 'oh so pretty' eyes. I won't be so beautiful" She says with a mocking tone, rolling those pretty eyes with a growing smile on her face.

It makes me grin. I lean closer to her, bowing my head slightly so I can touch my nose to hers.

"Ahh, well, you're always beautiful. Black, white, green, or purple." I tell her casually.

Jen laughs a little as if she doesn't believe me. She bites down on her lip and hides that perfect smile.

"Well, sir," she murmurs, "I will never be as good as you. Mr. Synyster Gates." she teases in a fake official voice.

I chuckle. "Oh you've gotten there, my dear." And I kiss her.

...

In the picture she's leaning toward me. Her hair was falling out of its bun and into her face, a strand covering one eye. She's in mid-laugh with a gorgeous, genuine smile; the kitchen door window panes are behind her, unfocused in the background. I just caught her face in the corner of the frame. She was right, the picture is black and white. But I was right too, she's beautiful in it. It's my favourite photo of her. That was taken a year before Jimmy died. We were both so happy that day. We did nothing except spend time with each other. We walked Pinkly and chased each other around the same house I'm in right now. I watched her while she wrote and worked on her photography; she watched me as I played guitar. She wore paint-splattered old sweat pants with a tank top and an old sweatshirt all day. No one has ever looked prettier in that outfit. At sunset we walked on Huntington Beach.

Forgetting Michelle is on top of me, I sit up. She slides off of my lap onto the bed next to me.

"Where did you get that?" I ask her; my eyes never leave the photo on her nightstand.

"What? What's wrong?" She seems really worried.

I lean over and grab the picture. I hold it up to her, finally looking her in the face.

"This picture. Why do you have it?" I don't mean to sound hostile, but I realize I do.

"I found it in a box in the closet while I was cleaning," she shakes her head, not understanding, "why? What?"

"Why'd you take it out? Why'd you keep it?" My voice is rising slightly.

Michelle lifts her hands in the air as if to say she doesn't know.

"I wasn't going to, but I looked at the back and saw who it was. Jen, the girl the guys talk about a lot. Jimmy's sister. I wanted to remember what she looks like. Everyone loves her so much, I just thought I'd ...I don't know." She explains honestly.

Any steam that I have rushes out of me with a big exhale of stressed breath. I turn the picture over in my hands and read the back.

"Spring 2008:
I love you, Mr. Synyster Gates. Happy Birthday.
-Jen"

Completely against my will the overwhelming feeling to cry washes over me.

"I know you loved her, Brian." Michelle's voice is gentle and understanding, ready and eager to help, "It's okay."

I look up at her. With empty, painful thoughts I get up and slip into my shoes again. I have to get out of this house. I can't be around anyone. I just need to get out. Before I leave the room I kiss Michelle on top of her head.

"I know. I'm sorry." I mutter, and leave.

--

I'm standing on the beach. The waves are breath-taking, the night sky is absolutely amazing. The sand is cool between my toes. It's here that I'm at peace. I'm more at ease right here than anywhere else. The only thing that can match is playing guitar. That, and something I can't name. The pain is really deep now. I just want to forget everything. As I look out at the water I realize that Michelle makes dinner at the same stove Jen tried to cook at, showers in the same bathroom Jen did, and sleeps on the same side of the bed that Jen did. I also realize how much I miss my best friend. Jimmy would know exactly what to say to me to ease my mind right now. Although, if he was here, things would be different.

I tilt my head back slightly, "Buddy, why do you have to be so far away?" I say to the sky, really hoping that I get an answer back, but knowing I won't.