Like You to Me

“Are you going to say anything?”

I shook my head, not meeting his gaze. It’d been weeks since my last conversation with Mike and I’d done a good job not thinking about it. We hadn’t spoken since then. Neither of us attempted to contact the other. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I was content with the way we’d ended things but I came to the conclusion that it was best. For the first time in months I woke up with a clear mind; I didn’t feel like there was an anchor on my chest, constantly reminding me of all the things I’d done and said wrong. I wasn’t worried about losing Mike because I’d lost him. And the world didn’t end the second I walked away. I was okay without him.

“You know he’s leaving for three months, right?”

I nodded. The time didn’t matter anymore. Neither did the distance. Things between Mike and I were over, packed away into boxes and shoved in the back of the closet I never used. Memories were the only things left, and that was fine. We’d caused one another enough damage. Someone had to put a stopper in it eventually.

“And you honestly don’t care? Deep down inside there’s not even a fragment of a fuck that you could possibly give?”

I shook my head again. There was something he wasn’t getting. I’d done just fine the previous couple of weeks without Mike. Realizing our relationship (or lack thereof) wasn’t as strong as I thought it was hurt at first, but the pain wasn’t anything new. It wasn’t fresh. It cut into old scars, opening them up again, but they were painless. They didn’t hurt this time. I didn’t hurt anymore.

“Wow,” Saxon laughed, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

I shrugged, abandoning my spot on the couch to fetch a drink from the kitchen. My brother had all but moved in my apartment. He thought he needed to look after me, to make sure I was okay after my theoretical break up with Mike. In all honesty I think he just needed a place to stay. Things in his life hadn’t been going so well, either. The band hadn’t found a replacement for Anderson and had seemingly broken up. They hadn’t even gotten together for band practice which had previously been a nightly thing. Once again, we were keeping each other sane.

“You know, Mom called the other day,” he shouted after me.

“She calls you once a week.”

“She’s coming here this weekend.”

Rolling my eyes, I dug the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge and poured it into the two glasses I’d set out. I couldn’t tell you how many times she’d told us that –– starting when we were still teenagers, freshly broken from her leaving. There were always different reasons for her trips: one of the kids had a sports tournament, they were going on vacation, she wanted to show her new family where she’d grown up, etc. Not once did she invite us to meet her new family, to prove to them that we were more than phone calls and photographs. I don’t even know if I’d have gone. Saxon would’ve. Even after everything she put us through, he’d still jump through hoops for her. She hurt him the worst but he was the first to forgive her, to make up excuses and decriminalize her. I don’t think I ever would.

“Oh, I see.” He was quiet for a few seconds. He only did that when he was dreading telling me something. I sighed. “Saxon, what did you tell her?”

“I may have invited her to stay here…”

Every bone in my body suddenly felt like it was broken. “Why –– How could you do that?”

“Are you going to stay mad forever?”

“And if I am?”

He sighed, obviously defeated. “I don’t understand you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I don’t understand you. You let Mike hurt you over and over and you’re going to die holding this grudge against Mom.”

I felt the flames ignite behind my eyes. I could almost see the steam blowing out of my ears. “You’re joking. Please, for the love of God, tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not, Shea. This is ridiculous.”

Saxon had remained on the couch throughout the conversation. I’d taken a seat on the arm but jumped up quickly, ready for a heated argument. It’d been a while since my last fight with Saxon and the time had come yet again for us to see who could yell at the other more loudly. Most of our arguments were meaningless. We didn’t filter ourselves: whatever we were thinking came tumbling out of our mouths. But at the end of it we always apologized and walked away with no hard feelings.

“You don’t remember how badly she hurt you? You don’t remember locking yourself in your room for months and not talking to anyone? You don’t remember that?”

“Of course I remember! You think I’d actually forget?”

I scoffed. “Well, you damn sure act like the woman who caused you all that pain isn’t the same woman who calls you every week.”

“You think I should’ve have forgiven her?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m sorry you can’t grow up and accept what she did and that you’re still so hung up on it. I’m sorry you like to hurt, but not me.”

“Whatever you say, Saxon,” I dismissed, beginning the upwards climb to my bedroom. “Just don’t let that woman step one foot in my apartment.”

“Seriously, Shea? You’re really going to act like this?”

I turned around, getting enough of a glimpse of him from his spot in the living room. “I’m sorry, do you pay rent? Is your name signed on the lease? The last I checked, you live on my couch for free. You’ve never given me a fucking penny for anything. Not food, not rent –– nothing. So as much as you want to bitch and complain about the way things are around here, who I associate with and who I hold grudges against, the more obvious it is that you’re full of shit.”

“I’m the one full of shit? Right.”

I trampled down the stairs, more furious at my brother than I’d ever been before. Of course we’d fought but never to this degree. We’d never blatantly insulted one another. We never tried to out-hurt the other. But this time was different. The subject of our mother was one we carefully avoided. Since the day she left it was almost like she was a ghost. She was around in the subtlest of ways but we didn’t speak of her. Until recently, anyway.

“You are full of shit, Saxon. Everything you complain about has no real meaning to anything. What do you care if I’m upset that Mike’s leaving or that I’m never going to talk to Mom again? What business is it of yours?”

“It’s my business because you’re my sister.”

“Oh, then I guess it’s my business that you kicked Anderson out of your band and now you’re not doing shit with your life, huh? No, it’s not. I never told you what to do about Anderson. I never said one word for or against him. I’ve always let you live your life and figure it out as you went along. I never pushed you in any direction so I’d really appreciate if you could do the same for me.”

Saxon pushed by me, making sure to slam the door on his way out. I marinated in my anger for a bit before calming down and letting reality sink in. With Mike out of my life, I really didn’t have anyone to talk to. Saxon had filled the void, but now he was gone, too. I knew he’d come back eventually, as we never stayed mad at each other for long, but I had a feeling things were going to be different once he did. A difference of opinions was sometimes necessary for a good relationship, as you don’t always have to agree on everything, but this wasn’t over something juvenile. This was something that could ultimately tear us apart.

That was when I realized how lonely I was. With Mike gone, something was missing. Something that not even my brother could fill, regardless of his current feelings toward me. Mike was my best friend at one point. He always knew what to say, how to put a smile on my face, how to take my mind off whatever was burdening me. He knew all of my secrets, all of my flaws, and still chose to love me at the end of the day. When someone cares that much about you, it changes your life. They aren’t easily replaceable, and they certainly aren’t easy to forget. But, to my credit, I’d done a good job pretending.

I wanted to call Mike so badly. I wanted to apologize over and over and laugh at my stupidity. I wanted to hear his voice, I wanted him to tell me everything was going to be okay. I wanted him to tell me I needed to have a drink. I wanted to feel his arms around me, my head pressed to his chest and inhaling his scent. I wanted things to go back to the way they were before we fucked it all up. More than anything, I wanted him back in my life. For good this time.

But I’d burnt that bridge and there were no plans for reconstructing it. On top of that he was leaving for Warped Tour in only a few hours’ time. It’d be three months before I could have a face-to-face conversation with him and even attempt to fix this. I wasn’t so sure it was worth it, though. He was still with his girlfriend and nothing had changed. I was still going to be jealous and angry that he’d chosen another girl over me. I still wasn’t convinced that I was content with just being his best friend. I’d always want more. And he couldn’t give that to me.

Was it selfish to throw away a friendship because of that? Probably, but at what point do I start thinking of my well-being? The last few weeks without Mike had been hard, I’d be the first one to admit that, but life went on. I was lonely but I was coping. I had other friends. I’d eventually grow feelings for someone else. And Mike might eventually become a ghost, just like my mother. That was a risk I was willing to take because I couldn’t handle the things he did to me. If we’d ever be together was still a mystery to me, one that I was finally content with leaving unsolved. I was a believer in fate, and I believed that it would happen if it was meant to. But that wasn’t up to me. It wasn’t my choice to make. I was done trying to force things that weren’t going to budge.

If Mike was around I think he’d be proud of the growing up I’d done in his absence. Whether he’d agree with my conclusions was an entirely different debate, but in all I think he’d be happy for me. I was finally coming into my own and standing up for myself. It took me a long time to get to that point but I was finally there. All I could hope was that one day he’d see it.

Hope was really all I had left. It was all I’d ever had.