Awful Direction

John took another drag from his cigarette and looked to the sky. His favorite thing about living in Arizona had always been the view. Daisy had been the one to show him. It was about a month or so before they started dating, she’d had too much to drink at a party and John—feeling chivalrous—took her out for some fresh air. They stumbled onto a porch swing in the backyard and sat in silence for awhile before Daisy rested her head on John’s shoulder. She asked him, very quietly, if he ever went stargazing before. John replied saying he hadn’t, hardly able to mutter a single syllable with her body so close to his. Daisy laughed a little before asking him if he’d like to. He liked that she kept whispering, because doing otherwise would’ve ruined the moment. Her whisper was peaceful and, if possible, warm. Together they stared at the tiny stars enveloping the sky and pointed out constellations. In that hour, John could feel himself falling in love with Daisy—

“John?”

“Shit,” he spilled his beer, “What?”

Jared raised an eyebrow, staring at his friend suspiciously, “You alright buddy?”

“Yes, why?”

“You look a little choked up is all.”

He cleared his throat, swallowing a lump of tears, and said, “No, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“About Daisy,” Halvo sighed, “You’re still not over her then?”

“No Eric, I’m still ‘not over her’,” John growled.

He hated when his friends brought her up. They talked about her like it was bad he still missed her all the time. As if it should’ve been so easy to forget her and move on, like the rest of them had. They hadn’t known her like he did, they hadn’t cared about her as much as him. Daisy never swept any of John’s friends off their feet, nor had she stolen their hearts. They’d loved her like a sister, and when she died they let her go and forgot about her as if she’d never even been there. John only wished it had been that easy for him. He didn’t choose to think about her so much. He didn’t want to constantly surround himself with reminders of what they used to have. Like his friends, he just wanted to let her go. But he felt like doing so would be a betrayal to Daisy. So he clung to her memory and, the little nights he slept, spent a few more hours rekindling what they’d lost over two years.

“She’s going to be the death of you,” Halvo muttered, kicking a rock on the ground.

John exhaled, watching the smoke disappear over his head, and replied, “I hope so.”

“Whatever man, you’ve lost it.”

“Just give me another beer.”

Halvo smirked and jokingly asked, “What’s the magic word?”

“Give me another beer bitch!” John laughed.

Eric elbowed him in the ribs as he walked back inside to grab John his precious beer. The rest of the guys joked about pointless nonsense like they always did until it became too cold to stay outside anymore. Arizona’s temperature was weird and a little bipolar. One night it was too hot to wear clothes and the next it was too cold to wear less than three layers. This night just so happened to be one of the few where you could freeze to death; and of course John hadn’t even thought about bringing a jacket to the party.

Even so, outside was a lot better than inside. Before Daisy, John loved the environment of a good party. He thrived on the chaos and alcohol, and found entertainment in the drama and drunk girls. He remembered the nightly hookups, the endless rounds of beer pong, and the massive hangovers the morning after. His parents would always give him a lecture when he woke up, but all he heard were the conversations from last night running through his head like a broken record. Now, his parents didn’t lecture him anymore. When John was drunk, he crashed at a friend’s house. At parties he only smoked outside and had a few drinks. Whatever he loved about the inside of a party now became obnoxious. All the drama, the girls pretending to be drunk, the beer pong. Everyone acted like horny animals, and it really annoyed him.

“Pat how many of those have you had?” A familiar, female voice called over the music.

John turned to his right and saw Devon next to him with a giggly Pat in her arms. He chuckled, having been very familiar with the frustrated look on her face, and watched as the two wrestled in the middle of everyone. She was struggling to steal the drink in Pat’s hand, but every time she reached for it he quickly tore it away and spilled a little on the kitchen’s tiled floors. Devon simply let out a rough huff and tried again and again, hoping she’d eventually grab his cup. It would’ve been polite of John to step it, but when Devon finally realized he was standing there she gave him a don’t-you-even-think-about-helping-me look. And so he simply sat back, took of sip of the beer Halvo had gotten him, and enjoyed the show. There was no denying he admired Devon’s determination.

“Pat, just give me the damn drink! You’ve had enough!” She tried grabbing it again.

He quickly pulled away and screamed, “Rat Boy listens to no one! He never has enough!”

“Oh my god, I’m going to beat the shit out of you if you don’t give me that in three seconds.”

“Better watch out Pat,” John laughed, “I think she’s serious.”

Devon whipped around and sent him a furious look. “Do not encourage him!”

“Would you like some help?”

“No I’m fine.”

Pat tried to get away, but merely stumbled forward and spilled a little of his drink down the front of Devon’s light pink top. She stared at the mess for a second in stunned, pissed off silence before letting out an irritated groan.

“I can tell,” John chuckled sarcastically, “You’ve got this whole thing under control.”

“Look jackass, while you’ve been sipping on your goddamn beer all night I’ve spent three hours babysitting an irritatingly intoxicated Patrick. Either put the drink down and do something, because clearly you know exactly what to do, or just shut the hell up and let me handle this!” Her face was bright red as she exploded. John almost didn’t believe Devon had screamed right in his face, the few times they’d seen each other she was all smiles and positivity. It was hard to believe she was capable of holding such hot anger within such a skinny frame.

John set his beer down on the wooden table and, in one swift motion, grabbed Pat by the arm and swiped the drink right out of his hands. It looked as though Pat wanted to put up a fight, but simply shrugged it off and ran in the other direction towards Garrett and Kennedy. When John turned to face Devon, a triumphant crooked smile on his lips, he was forced to hold back a cocky laugh or two. Her mouth had fallen in a perfect ‘o’ shape, although she quickly recomposed herself and simply looked everywhere but John’s eyes.

“Let’s go outside,” he laughed, throwing an arm over her shoulders.

*~*

“So, I’m still mad at you,” Devon said, “but out of curiosity, how did you do that?”

John laughed quietly. “Years of practice,” he answered honestly.

She just rolled her eyes and took a sip from her plastic cup. Devon wondered if she needed to apologize to him. He was only trying to help her in the kitchen and, honestly, she could’ve used a little humor today. Her grandmother had been procrastinating three important meetings for months now and coincidentally all three called her office today throwing hissy fits. God knows what they would’ve done had Devon not promised to meet with them immediately. Meetings are indescribably boring, something she had learned quite well upon arriving in Arizona. Literally, it was a group of men arguing (“discussing”) over completely irrelevant ideas and wasting a good two hours proving who was right. In the end they all came to the same conclusion anyway.

This is what Devon endured all day, and when Pat texted her about a party—and loads alcohol—she simply couldn’t resist. A drink or three to relieve herself of some stress, there was no harm in that. It wouldn’t be so bad, she had thought. Things had been going suitably until Pat completely lost it after his fifth refill. What was promised to be a party quickly turned into Mission Impossible when Pat refused to give up his sixth drink.

“One of those days?” John asked as the two plopped down in the grass.

Devon lied down and looked over at John with a smile. “How’d you guess?”

“You’re not very hard to read,” he laughed.

She playfully punched him in the shoulder and teased, “I could say the same for you! Why do you look so freaking sad all the time?”

The moment the words left her lips Devon wished she’d taken them back. It’s just the booze talking! she wanted to say, but that didn’t sound the slightest bit attractive. All she could think to do was sit in silence and watch John purse his lips and stare sadly at his hands. Slowly he lied down next to her, avoiding eye contact, and rested his hands behind his head. “It’s just hard forgetting some people,” he admitted quietly.

“That’s something I can relate to,” she stated, whispering also.

“I mean I do try to forget,” now that he was talking, John found it hard to stop, “but it’s just so much easier to hold onto the memory of her.”

“It’s not healthy though.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And you’re going to piss all your friends off.”

He chuckled. “Been there done that.”

Devon turned to face John and noticed the way the moonlight struck his face, casting a perfect shadow over his skin. He looked a little angelic and—despite the broken look in his eyes—peaceful. She wanted to share her knowledge with John. Tell him all about the things she’d come to learn since her mother’s death. It’d be so much easier on the poor guy to just tell him now, but he wouldn’t understand. It was one of those situations you just need to learn from yourself.

“Look at the stars,” she said suddenly.

John simply turned to her and gave her a what-the-fuck look. She rolled her eyes and pushed his face towards the sky. “I said look!”

“Why am I looking at the stars, Devon?”

“They’re the same stars as last week, last year; same as when we were kids, when we weren’t even born. People leave us every day, they die and disappear. Everyone’s been changing lately, for better or worse, but the stars are just…there, you know? In a hundred years, no one will ever know who we were, but they’ll know those same stars.”

That was the best advice she could think of; and she didn’t even know if it made sense. It sounded right, in her opinion, but most people didn’t think like her. To them, the things Devon said were nonsense. She hoped John understood at least some of what she was trying to say. He just stared up at the sky with a blank expression; for the first time Devon couldn’t see what he was thinking. And for the first time she really wished she could.

“I know you’re lonely John,” she whispered, “And honestly I’m kind of lonely too.”

He winced a little, but kept his eyes on the moon.

She just decided to keep talking, for both of them.

“So, I think we should be lonely together…friends?”

Devon held out her pinky with a sincere smile adorning her tanned cheeks. John looked at it for a second, as if it were going to bite his nose, before silently linking their fingers. A long, comfortable silence replaced their one-sided conversation. A silence which neither of them minded. Devon was tired of talking, it’s all she had been doing today. And she was sort of glad John hadn’t poured his heart out to her, or teased her when she said all that crap about stars. Instead he gave her what she really needed right now, some silence. A minute to herself to just think about where things were going.

“Everything good dies here,” John whispered. He looked at Devon apathetically, “Even the stars.”

And they left it at that.