Awful Direction

“Good morning sunshine.”

Someone was pinching John’s cheeks as he slept, dreaming of Daisy. He swatted around his head, hitting nothing but air, and groaned angrily. A fit of giggles broke out around him as whoever continued to pester a very hungover John O’Callaghan. His friends could be so girly sometimes it was embarrassing. The light giggles soon turned into hushed snickers, which then became a chorus of cackles as John finally punched his target square in the nose. They landed on their butt with a loud thump, causing the entire floor to shake a little, and John figured then that trying to sleep now was inevitable.

“Someone had a rough night,” Pat growled, rubbing his sore behind.

“No,” John replied flatly, “Someone just doesn’t like being woken up so early.”

“It’s like eleven thirty!”

“Exactly. It’s too early.” He groaned and shoved the couch pillow over his head.

“Did sunshine have a good dream?” Pat asked with a shrill tone.

John simply ignored him and contemplated suffocating himself under the pillow. He hated when Pat acted like this; it was as if he became a completely different person. No longer young and innocent, but rather more creepy and bizarre. Usually, it took nearly all of the guys to calm him down; and by the time they did it was already too late, Pat never failed to make a scene. John put up with Pat’s alter egos simply because they were great on drums. Pat was constantly fidgeting, always tapping something (his leg, a table, the wall, etc.), and when he lost it that nervous twitch was untamable. So the guys simply quit suppressing it and put a set of drums underneath his hands. When they weren’t playing a set though, John almost killed the kid.

“What did I even do last night?” he asked, motioning to the bruises on his arms.

“Who,” Garrett corrected, “You mean who.”

“I slept with someone?”

“Someone’s.”

He mentally kicked himself in the face. “Are you serious?”

“Afraid so,” Garrett chuckled, “I counted three hit and runs.”

“Two and a half,” Kennedy laughed, “The one girl didn’t make it to the bed, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Wait, wait, wait. What the hell happened?”

A wave of nausea rolled through John’s stomach. Even though she wasn’t here to see him, John still felt as if he were betraying Daisy. He still felt the same weight of guilt on his shoulders thinking about what he might’ve done the previous night. If Daisy were looking down on him, which John hoped for the first time she’d looked away, she’d be throwing a fit. He could picture her exact reaction without even trying. She’d scrunch her little nose, and cross her arms over chest, and purse her lips into a tight line. Her voice would drop a few octaves, because she liked to think she could be intimidating, and her typically bright eyes would darken in the most ominous way. She’d stomp her feet, and smack John upside the head a few times; and he’d let her do whatever she wished until she finally ran out of steam. Then, with the utmost care, he’d run his hands through her strawberry blonde hair and peck her lips.

His lips tingled as if it had just happened; John terribly missed the feeling of his lips against hers.

“Are you even listening?” Kennedy snapped in John’s face.

“Oh, no. Sorry.”

He sighed, knowing where John’s head had been, and replied, “I said that you hooked up with two drunk blondes.”

“At the same time?”

“You wish,” Kenny laughed.

John chuckled and fiddled with his fingers. “I thought you guys said two and a half?”

“Yeah, there was this one big chick. You two were like wrestling or something. And she was kicking your ass, man.” They all laughed; John blushed. “I almost jumped in and separated you guys, I thought she was gonna snap you in two.”

“Was she hot at least?”

“She looked like a mix between Sandra Bullock and Danny Devito.”

“Ew.”

A round of laughter erupted from the guys as John buried his face further into the couch pillow, mentally cursing himself for drinking so much. Although he knew a single bad experience wouldn’t stop him from drinking again tonight. And the next night, and the next, and so on. John was beginning to grow accustomed to the typical after-party hangover. It seemed as though he’d woken up to a migraine every morning for the past year and a half, followed by eight hours of greasy food and Advil, and ending with another night of tequila and beer pong. It was a terrible way of coping without Daisy, he knew, but it was the only comfort John could think of.

No one had ever asked him about his problems before.

And he’d never actually given anyone a reason to. He preferred handling things on his own.

“Moose is having another party tonight,” Jared said, “You think you can handle it?”

John let out a cocky snort. “Give me some coffee and I’ll be good as new.”

“I swear, man, you live off of coffee and junk food.”

“This is true.”

“How are you not obese?”

“Cause I’m fucking John Ohh,” John laughed, smacking Jared with his pillow.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Pat pointed out, “First time in awhile, yeah?”

“What can I say?” John shrugged, “I had an epiphany.”

Which really wasn’t true at all. John was simply a fantastic actor. It wasn’t all that hard to plaster a crooked smile on your face and pretend to be having a good time. He’d known the guys had been growing tired of his constant whining and self-loathing; pretending to be the old John was the least he could do after all they’d done for him. As he sat up, John looked around at his friends one at a time and smiled a little. He thought again, something he’d been doing often lately. John thought about the nights Kennedy wasted babysitting his drunk ass at parties, and how Jared never ridiculed him once for crying like a little girl, and how Garrett always listened when he needed to talk, and how Pat simply pretended like nothing ever changed; which was exactly what he needed. John needed his friends to treat him how they always had, because it made things feel as though nothing had ever happened to make him change.

“Are we getting this coffee or what?” Garrett asked, interrupting John’s thoughts.

“Yes, please,” Pat whined.

“John’s paying!”

“Yeah, whatever,” John chuckled, rolling off Jared’s couch, “Just keep it cheap. I’m running low.”

“Bullshit, you know the best coffee is the most expensive!”

“Pat you already owe me fifty bucks from tour.”

“Touché.”

The five of them stood up and stretched their sore limbs before tugging shirts over their heads and piling into John’s truck. Pat and Jared, probably the most devoted coffee lovers of the group, spent ten minutes arguing over where the best coffee was. It seemed as though their bickering would never reach an end before a light bulb flickered in John’s head.

“I know where we’re going,” He spoke up.

Both Jared and Pat stopped and stared at him, as did Kenny and Garrett. “You do?”

“It’s this small café in the middle of town. They make a mean cappuccino.”

They each shared a similar puzzled expression, but John was already pulling out of the driveway.

*~*

“So first day of summer, I’m in grand old Vine Station with this boy named Justin and we’re at his house watching TV on the couch—and mind you, I’m already dating Jake—actually I’m still dating him, miraculously enough, but Justin is a friend of mine from when I was a kid and so we’re watching TV and literally chatting about the SATs or something, and Justin puts his arm around me and I think ‘Oh that’s nice, we’ve been friends for so long and this is totally comfortable’ and we’re just chatting and then I’m in the middle of a sentence about analogies or something and like a hawk he reaches down and he honks my boon. HONK. A much-too-firm, two to three second HONK. And the first thing I thought was ‘Okay, how do I extricate this claw from my boob before it leaves permanent marks?’ and the second thing I thought was ‘God, I can’t wait to tell Takumi and the Colonel!”

Devon laughed out loud as she read the 14th page of Looking For Alaska. It felt like she never had time to read anymore, with her grandmother kicking her out to run errands every day, and she missed the time to herself. Books were what Devon found comfort in when her mother died. They gave her the ability to escape reality and practically become another person, something no one else could ever provide. She could go anywhere in the world, do anything she wanted, and more importantly worry about someone else’s problems.

“‘Oh, right. Alaska this is Pudge. Pudge memorizes people’s last words. Pudge, this is Alaska. She got her boob honked over the summer.’ She walked over to me with her hand extended, then made a quick move downward at the last moment and pulled down my shorts. ‘Those are the biggest shorts in the state of Alabama!’”

Again, Devon snorted to herself as she turned the page. In a way, she felt she could relate to this Alaska character. Impulsive, witty, confident, all the things Devon wasn’t. However she too was beginning to ask herself the question: How will I ever get out of this labyrinth? Granted, she had absolutely no idea what the labyrinth was, but she was determined to find out and—when she did—find a way out.

Is the labyrinth living or dying? She wanted to know.

The café was unusually busy this early afternoon. Devon had been almost positive no one really knew of it, but today it was suddenly bustling with customers. Which was pleasing for her, because over the course of two weeks she’d formed a friendship with the café’s manager; and this kind old man deserved all the paying customers in the world. He’d been struggling financially for awhile now, and just the other day they’d been discussing some new ideas to attract attention. She hoped after today’s business some of Mr. Riley’s stress would recede.

The bell above the door rung quietly, but was overwhelmed by the sudden rowdiness of a small group of boys. Devon didn’t even bother to pay any attention to them, having been so fixated on her book. Although their obnoxious volume made reading harder for her; nearly impossible actually. She dug her nose further into the pages, as if that would help, and glared at every single word as if it were one of the boys’ faces.

“Devon?”

She reluctantly tore her eyes away from the book, folding the corner to remember her place, and looked up. It took a minute or so to recognize those hopeless, green eyes, but when she finally comprehended who it was she stood up and hugged him as if she were greeting an old friend. Her arms easily curled around his entire waist, because he was so skinny, but her head only reached up to his shoulder because of his height. John was peculiar both physically and mentally.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, motioning for him to occupy the empty chair in front of her.

“Nothing really,” he shrugged, “The guys wanted coffee and I remembered the amazing cappucino you bought me.”

She smiled triumphantly. “I told you this place is the best.”

“That you did,” he laughed.

It was the first time Devon had ever heard John sincerely laugh before. Even if it was a little quiet, she couldn’t help but smile at him. He definitely needed to laugh more often, it was quite an attractive quirk of his. That and the crooked smile on his lips which had replaced the tight, emotionless line. Without a doubt, Devon preferred mildly happy John over depressed, angry John any day.

“You seem a lot happier John,” she thought aloud.

He simply toyed with the straw in his cup. “I guess. I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“About what?”

“Just things I needed to think about.”

“Well, that’s good,” she replied, “I think?”

He chuckled. “It is.”

A comfortable silence washed over them as the two looked around. Devon at her book, and John at his friends who were now staring at him with confused facial expressions. She giggled to herself as she silently watched how awkward he was around her. His long, slender fingers lightly tapped against the hardwood of the table, and his green eyes were looking everywhere they didn’t need to be, all to make it look like he wasn’t very nervous. The poor guy was an open book and he didn’t even realize it.

Devon suddenly noticed the cast engulfing his right hand.

“You get in a fight or something?”

John looked at her, finally, and then to his hand. “Uhh, no. I actually punched a wall…”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Pissed off much?”

“At the time, very.”

“Is that when you started thinking?”

“Yes,” he answered slowly, “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been there,” she said simply.

“John, who’s your friend?”

They were approached by four unfamiliar boys whom Devon assumed to be John’s friends.
The one’s who had been so loud upon entering the café. John introduced everyone to Devon, awkwardly of course, and sat silently as they greeted her, friendly as ever. The four of them immediately engaged in polite conversation, and surprisingly Devon managed to keep up with them nicely. Something she’d gotten from her mother was the ability to make easy small talk. It was a lot simpler with the four of them anyway, because they carried most of the conversation; cutting each other off, laughing at their own jokes, and asking rhetorical questions here and there.

“So Darling Devon,” Pat chirped, “What brings you to Tempe, Arizona?”

“I’m living with my grandmother for a little bit,” she sighed.

“Why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Its fine” She sipped her hot chocolate. “My dad was just too busy with work and stuff, I didn’t want to bother him. He felt like he needed to take all this time off to see me because we weren’t hanging out all that much anymore. Then his boss would bitch at him and he didn’t need the stress so I left.”

Talking about her father made Devon suddenly realize how much she missed him. She was always her daddy’s little girl, no matter how old she had gotten. This was the first time they’d ever been separated, but it was with good reason. Still, she missed the joy in knowing someone was waiting for her at home. She actually didn’t mind running errands for her father, and she had never actually loved the idea of moving so far away even if it was only temporary. Devon tended to worry about her father more often than she used to because if he happened to get into trouble she couldn’t simply drive home and save him. It was a feeling she loathed more than anything.

“I just don’t like leaving him alone anymore since my mom left…”

She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and once the words left her lips they hung in the air uneasily.

There was a moment of silence before Pat spoke up again.

“I like you.” It wasn’t what she had been expecting, to be honest.

“Thanks,” she laughed, “I like you too.”

“We’re gonna be best friends now, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you around, okay bestie?”

The five of them stood up from the table and gathered their trash.

She had known her reply was supposed to be directed towards Pat, but as the group turned to leave she found herself staring at the back of John’s head whispering, “I sure hope so.”