It Takes More

I didn’t realize just how much I actually missed my brother until I spent the entire day with him. I had forgotten just how much of a kid he could be. Sure, he was the atypical over-protective older brother, but he still acted like a five year old a majority of the time. A five year old with a potty mouth, that is.

After breakfast at the diner and a short stop at home so I could shower and change, we had decided to explore L.A. together. Jack had only been here a few times for shows, of which I did not attend, and he wasn’t granted enough time to wander downtown or take in the sights.

We started by walking around the busy streets, just soaking in the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles, and then moved onto window-shopping. Jack apparently didn’t know the concept, as he would run into every store that looked cool and almost always came out with one if not more items. We went from shop to shop, Jack bouncing around like the little kid he was. I felt like a mother watching her child bound around, except unlike every mother who tried, and failed, to calm her child, I let Jack be himself. Besides, there’s no way to tame if, even if I tried.

After an exhausting day on my feet, I was ready to go home and lounge around for the remainder of the afternoon, but Jack had different plans. Apparently, he had to ‘take his precious little sister and girlfriend out, because he missed them.’ Translation: he wanted to party, and he was shameless in using us as his excuse.

So, we met Marla back at the apartment we shared where we changed into something more appropriate for a night out in the clubs of L.A. I chose a black, high-waist skirt that stopped mid-thigh paired with a green sleeveless blouse. I finished off with my favorite gold earrings and matching glittery gold flats before meeting my brother and best friend in the kitchen.

Jack looked great as always in black skinny jeans and a gray cotton tee while Marla looked hot in a purple mini-dress that I recognized as mine. I didn’t mention anything though; we tended to raid each other’s closets frequently.

“Lena. Flats, really?” she asked after a quick once-over of my outfit.

“What? What’s wrong with flats?” I questioned, puzzled.

“Nothing, except you only wear them when you don’t feel like partying.”

“I do not. Do I?” I hadn’t made that connection, nor was I aware that my choice in footwear said so much about my mood.

“Yeah, you do,” she stated simply as we exited the apartment.

We ended up at Junkie’s where Jack led us straight to the bar. Tonight was one of my rare Saturday nights off and that was only because I had requested it so I could catch up with Jack. Normally I pulled a double shift on Saturdays, opening and closing the bar with Asher, who was still working tonight.

The three of us did our customary celebratory starter shots, toasting to a fun night, then Asher slid a familiar red liquid my way as I stood off to the side of the bar and Jack and Marla made their way into the sea of people.

It wasn’t so much fun partying alone and Ash was too busy with bar customers to make conversation so when a stool became available at the bar I took it. I sipped my favorite drink as I watched the crowd around me. I observed the people around me as they became more and more intoxicated.

I couldn’t help but think back to High School. It was all the same, no matter what age and where you were. There were some people who drank just to drink, never being seen without a glass in their hand. Some danced with anyone, or everyone. Others were a mix of the two, falling somewhere in the middle. They didn’t always have a drink in their hand, but they weren’t sober either, and they still had fun, dancing and mingling with friends. And then there were the observers, in this case, me. They sat back and watched the actions taking place around them.

I had always fit into the last category in High School, but since then I had moved into the third. In California I had become more outgoing, I now longer sat off to the side watching the events going on around me. So why was I now?

I was so deep in my thoughts that I barely noticed a shift to my right. I faintly recognized that the occupant of the stool next to mine had changed but I didn’t bother to look at how now sat there until he spoke up.

“Can I have a Rum and Coke, please?” the male voice asked Asher. I closed my eyes tightly, telling myself I was thinking irrationally. The voice I heard could not belong to who I thought it did.

I slowly opened my eyes as Asher stood in front of me, sliding the dark liquid to my right. My eyes slowly followed his to the person whose hand reached out to grab the small glass before him. As soon as my eyes met his, they snapped back to Asher, no doubt wide and unbelieving.

He gave me a questioning look as I shook my head. “You okay, Ellie?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m just gonna go find Jack. I’ll, uh, talk to you tomorrow?” I didn’t wait for an answer as I slid through the throng of people without another glance at the form on the barstool next the one I had previously occupied. It can’t be. I repeated in my head. It just couldn’t be.