Metamorphosis

Two weeks have passed and he still hasn't talked to me.
It's safe to say that I was a little more than fairly confident that Josh would fall back to his typical self and beg for my forgiveness just so everything would return back to normal and his shit list would remain empty. That was just the type of person he was, and the sole reason why we had remained friends for so long.
That saying, 'opposites attract'? Well, I beg to differ. That must only apply to the people who are different from another at a slight, just enough to feel as though they're not looking and talking to a mirror.
But two people that are so vastly divergent, like Josh and I? We must have been the exception.

He is someone who cannot rock the boat or be on the bad side of anyone's fence. Someone who will act like nothing is wrong to a face then proceed to groan about his frustrations toward that person when their back was turned. He was two faced, and I had usually reaped the benefits, but what I had done must have flipped a switch somewhere in that mind of his to turn him against me. I just could not understand why he had to take it so seriously.
I told him it was only physical, and if I could not feel any real emotion over it, why did he? Opposites, we were opposites, but why did I sometimes imagine that we were the same person? We made the same jokes, went to the same places, read each other's thoughts, and even finished sentences together.

I had come up with a crazy theory that if you're around someone for long enough, on a day to day basis, then you can develop an identical personality. It doesn't matter how different the two people are from the start -if they can overcome that and actually stand and even like the other's company for years, they turn out to be far more similar than they would have been if they hadn't.
I was convinced that that would happen for Josh and I, maybe a few years later on down the line, but I would never find out if he continued to give me the silent treatment. We definitely were not at the point of being distinct from each other because I did not see that coming.
Or was that the first sign of morphing the same?
That sounded like something I would have done.

He has not called, texted, he hasn't even stopped by to hang out with Casey, which had only added more heat to the fire of my clear mistake. Yes, a clear mistake. I would have never had sex with Josh if I knew it was going to cause me so much grief. I should cut ties off with him completely for being such a sensitive baby about it. I was at a dead end, surrounded by my pride and sense of righteousness that were standing too strongly to make way for a exit path between them. The last thing I was going to do was cave or make myself out to be as weak as him, or god forbid, actually apologize. I was not the one at fault; he knew what he was getting himself into and he should have been prepared for the after effects.

He's throwing a hissy fit because it did not turn out to be the chick flick left on a loop in his head? because I did not profess my with held love for him in the passenger seat of his POS car?
Uh... sorry?

I just decided that leaving him along to cool off a bit longer was the best solution, and besides, I was not going to go out of my way to make him feel better. I had to drag him to the realization that he cannot always get what he wants. That the world does not revolve around the planet named "Josh's Desires".

But it was Saturday, and I was not going to let him ruin the first and most important day of the weekend, so I just laid in bed, staring at the thin beams of sunlight slicing through the window where the curtain was not covering. I could already tell it was going to be a nice day, one that makes every type of person want to dash outside and play soccer, take a walk, or fly a kite. It was windy enough to enhance the experience, and I knew it was a dress day if I had ever laid eyes on one. A sun dress, likely my yellow pastel one that a lot of people stopped to stare at. These were my favorite days.
Overall, today was a new day full of chance and excitement, and at that thought, I jumped out of bed and danced my way to the bathroom to start my normal routine of beauty prep. Casey was nowhere in sight, hogging the bathroom like he always did, and so the day started with its first good sign.

An hour later, I was dancing down the stairs to a song in my head that came to an abrupt halt when the all too familiar sounds of warfare and cursing filled the entire first floor, disturbing the peace of the beautiful day that was cloaked back in darkness and flashes of fake lighting from the 60' flat screen in the living room. My brainless brother kept his eyes plastered to the screen the same way a zombie would on a flesh and blood human being, with his jaw even going slack as an unfortunate side effect of his deep concentration. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, as usual, and he couldn't help but not notice, as usual.
As I walked further into the living room, however, there was something unusual: Josh not sitting on the couch next to my brother. Every Friday night, he would spend the night and be awake the next morning, a morning exactly like this, with a matching head set, and a matching sailor mouth. But he was not there; his presumed spot on the couch was cold with his absence, and I was dreading the second when Casey would finally peel his eyes away from the screen long enough to ask about my involvement in that absence.

The other unusual aspect about the Saturday morning was located in the kitchen, taking the form of my father in a pink apron, humming to himself as he flipped something in the skillet sizzling on the stove. I slowed my walk and stood at the arch to the kitchen, paranoid to take a step inside. The man who helped to give me life took a quick turn around in my direction, grinning like a fool.

"Good morning, Pi Bear,"
he said cheerily.

He had granted that my nickname for as long as I could remember. 'Pi' being an abbreviation for 'Poison Ivy' and 'Bear' added because what's an embarrassing pet name between father and daughter without it? Needless to say, I cringed while I barely heard Casey snickering softly from his place on the couch. The fat lard.

"Daaaaad," I groaned, making my way to a stool at the breakfast bar.

He chuckled, "I know I know, you hate it, but I'm gonna keep calling you that for as long as I live."

"Well then what's for breakfast, weenie?"

My nickname for him, since his name's Frank. Two can play that game.
He did not have to answer me, I could smell them from the stairwell. Pancakes. He made pancakes every weekend since before I was in the womb, he would tell me. The odd part was not that, it was the apron.

"What's up with the apron though? Training to be a housewife?"

"I found it in the laundry room, I think it belongs to Mama F."

"Oh."

"Speaking of which..."

I knew that was coming.

"Where's her next of kin?"

If there was one thing I felt guilty about, over anything else, it was lying to my father. He had always been an open book to Casey and I, but especially to me. There were things I knew about him that he had never mentioned to his son, though he was older, and I think it was the special bond a father grows for his daughter. That bond placed a huge weight on my shoulders to be the same open book to my father. But there were some instances where I had to repress the truth so that I would not be faced with something far more hard to bare: his disappointment.
God that hurt.

I could not look into his eyes or be around him knowing that he had caught a glimpse of an utterly bad mistake that was a 'mistake' in his eyes and perhaps not my own. That tended to happen often, which made it somewhat difficult at time to differentiate. But it was clear to me at the time that telling him the truth about why Josh was not at our house eating pancakes or playing video games was a no go. I just did what I did best, which was shrug my shoulders and look around as though I did not notice his absence.

"Hmm, I don't know, I thought he was still sleeping in Casey's bed because he was worn out from a pillow fight they had last night."

My brother had ears like a dog and laughed sarcastically.
"Very funny, Poison, but he wasn't here last night. Haven't seen him for a while. I was wondering if you had something to do with it."

I turned to make long distance eye contact, raising an eyebrow.
"Why would I?"

And then he gave me a look of knowing, or at least suspecting, hot on my trail, something I was not expecting, then glanced back at the television as though it never happened.
"Oh, you know, just a hunch."

"You would know a lot about hunches considering you're growing one from being slumped over on the couch all day."

He laughed out loud,
"Yeah, and so would you from being bent over by-"

"Stop," my dad droned while glaring holes into the pancake on the stove. He must had burnt it.

"Ugh, can I just leave already, dad? Your very own next of kin is bothering me and it's not even noon. Can I go to the mall instead?"

Before he gives me an answer, I was already getting up from the stool to grab my bag, so he nods.
"Sure, need some money?"

I smiled sweetly and nodded.
"Sure, just to borrow."

He smiled back and cooled down the stove to reach his calloused hand deep into his right pocket underneath the apron. He placed a 20 in front of me and I grabbed it, kissing him on the cheek after.
"I'll be back soon," I said.

"Love you, Pi Bear."

"I love you too, dad."

As I passed by Casey he mumbled from his place on his couch throne, "Bullshit, 'borrow'."

Our father groaned 'stop' a second time when I smacked his dumb son across the back of his head and ran out the door.

I did not waste anymore time. The day may have been beautiful and full of promising opportunity from the comfort of my bed, but actually going outside in the thick of it dripped the sweet, sugary coating of a fantasy into the puddle of reality. It was humid and unbearable, threatening to ruin my makeup and hair I spent so long to perfect. The last look I was going for was of the peasant variety; I had carefully crafted my appearance and it was going to stay that way. Especially at the mall with Christine, the 'Blonde Bombshell', on one side of me and Taylor, the 'Goddess with a Rear' on my other. It's not that they could ever compete with me, for I had earned the unbeatable title 'The One and Only' under my belt, but they sure kept the competition close enough to keep me going. So I made a dash to my Camry and cranked up the A/C, keeping the humidity at bay.

"I don't want those bitches saying shit," I mumbled as I peeled out of the driveway and into the road, the sun slowly rising behind me.

-x-

"Damn girl, I don't know how you do it. What time did you wake up, 4 AM?"

I could not help the smirk on my face. Ten minutes spent in what was a moving icebox had worked in my favor. Not a thing was out of place, not a single flaw was present, and my two best friends were in awe. My mission was accomplished, and I was getting gawks from every direction.
Not that that was unusual anyway, but it was a nice, reoccurring aspect.

We were strolling by the different shops we approached every weekend, searching for that perfect top for the upcoming summer or an upgrade from the classic little black dress. Anything that gave us a feeling or immediately caught our eye. We were strict, avid shoppers, after all. Our time together consisted of complimenting one another, gushing over fabric, and sharing tips and secrets over the world of makeup. I could honestly say that we shared the most fulfilling friendship known to at least myself. They were stuck to me like glue and I was no better off, if that glue included glitter, halter tops, and gossip, of course, which was inevitably our next topic of discussion.

"Did you hear about Lucas?"
Christine asked, slurping on a diet lemonade, her usual.

I shook my head, vaguely interested in the update on some pot head like him, always in and out of trouble and whose actions, no matter how drastic, would surely fail to surprise me.

"Lucas..." Taylor trailed, oblivious to anyone outside of the inner circle.

I rolled my eyes,
"You know, Lucas? The pot head with the long brown hair that looks better than yours?"

Taylor was appalled and hit my upper arm as I chuckled with Christine. We had gotten up from our place in the food court and made our rounds on the other side of the mall where our other best friends, Abercrombie and Fitch, were hanging around. It was early, just hitting the noon mark when we arrived, but we hated the hundreds of people surrounding us. It was considered a negative when the three of us could barely hear each other over the meaningless chatter of the people around. We still had about another hour and a half remaining to get the juiciest news out before leaving. Our time
together was prime time, which is what had me wondering about the mention of Lucas. Either news was hovering in dead air or I had to reevaluate what would and would not surprise me about him.

"Well, I heard he fucked Lauren Palmer the other day."

I almost choked.
"Christine, really? Sources please."

She waved her hand to the bench closest and we all took a seat, more than ready to hear all the details as to why a preppy, Christian cheerleader would lie on her back for a grungy druggie about ready to jump off into the abyss of truancy and failure. Rumors of that caliber, especially when backed up with hard evidence and/or testimony, was my own drug. I reveled in the fantasies of a perfect girl meeting her downfall in the worst way possible.
I soaked it in like a baby's first gasp of air.

So really, there was nothing more I wanted out of life in that exact moment, but my mind must have, and I was stunned by its request when a man walked past our triplet and I had to look him over twice to make sure it wasn't Josh.
Time had sped up in his stride to the opposite end of the mall, too quickly that it took a minute to confirm that it was not him after he was far out of my range. Josh would never wear brand new Nikes; his family could not afford them, and that stranger had the walk of a man who was carefree, and Josh was anything but. All of Josh's life was second nature to my own, and I could tell an exact twin from him based on walking patters though I had hardly seen him in weeks.

No matter what the end result was for us, I knew that he would occupy some space within me for years to come. That quirky smile of his, where his happiness was nestled within the teeth that overcrowded his mouth and hit you all at once when he grinned.
His looks of confusion and doubt when you can see the game of hide and seek occurring in the windows of his eyes, helpless and hoping you can peer inside and find the hiding spot.
His nose, crinkled or smoothed out or flared or sniffing or cringing, made the middle of his face more charming and honest somehow, more so when he rubs it in you hair and on the top of your scalp when he catches you crying in the middle of the night, after you had already desperately believed that no one would show up or care enough to bother.
Even when people perceive you as the most beautiful girl in school, and every guy is begging for your time only while it was at their convenience, without giving a damn about the dirty soul behind the attractive mask.
Oh, not 'you', me.

He took care of me when I was convinced I had pushed everyone away, and stood his ground in the face of the naysayers. I had rarely felt it before, but my stomach ached at the notion of losing him forever over something so stupid. I was going through a pause of clarity, when I had reevaluated my actions, and for the first time in my life, I did not like what I saw.
I knew I had made a mistake that I had to fix, or else the worst, horrifying thing would happen.
I would lose Josh, and I would never be able to get him back.I had to make things right, but I had to be smart about it. If I was anyone else, I would have dashed out and been straight on my way to Josh's house, an impossibility at the time. I was with Taylor and Christine, and there was no way that they wouldn't find out what I would be up to.

"No, Bobby told me that was bullshit, because every night he gets drunk he gets taken care of. There's no way he would have done that,"
Christine reasoned, and I did not care about what.

"Wait, look Christine, isn't that the squirrel that asked you out a year or so ago?"

We all turned our heads to the left to look because I knew exactly who they were talking about, his full name, and how I needed to speak to him.

He had dull, shaggy brown hair flying in all directions, and he was groggy at this time in noon, looking like he could use another entire 8 hours of sleep. The black band shirt he wore was wrinkled and had been in an accident with bleach at the collar, a huge white mark the same paleness as his skin that played mind tricks on me. His jeans had not been washed in weeks, then to top it all off, his shoes had gaping holes on the sides that had his socked pinky toes curling in and out with every step. The eyes in his sockets were sunken in, retreating into his skull while trying so hard to pull the eyelid curtains closed to continue with his previous slumber.

Christine and Taylor could not hold back their disgust more than I could, but I was also in disbelief at his impeccable timing.
Why would someone like him have the gall to ask out Christine?
Why would Josh ever waste his time being his friend?

"Hey squirrel, wanna nut?" Taylor yelled from beside me, causing Christine to burst out in a fit of giggles.

Max Helyer merely scowled in our direction and shot back with,
"Yeah, since you're always balls deep."

I cringed, more disgusted than before. He quickened his pace and mumbled to himself, no doubt reaffirming his regret over asking out the deadly Blonde Bombshell in the first place. I did not want him to get too far out of my sight, however. I still had questions that needed answers, and if I couldn't get them from the horse's mouth, then why not get it from the hand that feeds it?

I feigned shock as I glanced at the time on my phone and muttered in a rush,
"Oh crap, I have to help my dad set up dinner for my grandma."

"Uh, Ivy? It's only 12:30."

I ignored Taylor's observation and hoisted my purse higher onto my shoulder, nodding profusely as though I would lose my mind if I did not leave immediately. They just stared suspiciously as I ran off, leaving mystery behind in my step.

At that point, oddly, I couldn't have cared less about spending another second with those two; Max would tell me the only news I cared about. The kind that involved me, and that involved Josh. I needed to know what was going on, and how hard he was taking the whole thing if he would not speak to me for an entire two weeks.
How much did he really like me?
Why couldn't we have just stayed friends?
Why did everything between us have to get messy and complicated?

I was beginning to see myself as a kid who had gone too far with a joke, and no one was laughing anymore. No one was entertained, and most importantly, neither was I. Only a select few had that inexplicable power over me. Only a few close family members, Josh's mother, and unfortunately, Josh. I was so sure that he would come running back because that was who he was. I thought I had meant as much to him as he had to me, even though my attachment was much deeper like a vein in the arm that cannot be seen but continued to pump blood to keep that connection thriving.
Did I pull the plug, finally?

I had to find out, so when I was out of view from the friends I had left behind, I walked faster towards Max, groggily sweeping the soles of his ragged shoes against the freshly waxed tile. He almost slipped a few times. I did not know how to approach him, tap his shoulder, call out his name? It was a snap decision to whisper "hey" when I was within intimate hearing distance. Imagine his surprise to turn around and come face to face with me, of all people, the one who had pissed off his friend.
My best friend.

Instead of surprise that was everlasting, his mouth had curled upward into that scowl, alarm coating that thick layer of contempt, but he did not try to escape. I kept my own familiar signature on my features: innocence.

I recoiled slightly as he said with venom,
"What, you got more nuts for the squirrel?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head and checking behind my back to make sure it was only the two of us among strangers who were growing in larger numbers. I would have been on my way out if he did not cross my path.
I needed those answers, and I did not waste anymore time.

"How's Josh?"

Max's face was on the verge of softening, like he was ready to trade deep sympathies with me. He probably would have under very different circumstances. He looked me over, from head to toe, and unlike most men, his eyes stopped on my hair, my face, and ultimately my eyes. Then realization overcame him coolly.

"Oh," he emphasized.
"You must be Ivy."

"Yes..." I trailed off.

It was rare for a kid from school to be unfamiliar with me. That was odd.
The sleep deprived Max was suddenly jolting back to life, letting out a low whistle that felt more like a normal encounter with a guy.

"Well, he wasn't lying when he said you were pretty, I'll give him that."

"WELL, I have a feeling that's not all he's said about me. Care to fill in the blanks?"

But he was not going to give me any details, that was made clear when he pulled the bleached collar of his shirt up to his mouth to weakly hide his snickering.
Me, dressed and put together like a masterpiece in one of my favorite dresses, standing across from a guy unsuitable to be in public.
God, it was embarrassing.

I crossed my arms and pursed my lips, smacking them against my shiny teeth, pissed off. "Are you gonna choke on your spit all day or help me out?"

"Why would I help YOU out?"
Max demanded, pulling his shirt down with force.

I was quiet, ready for him to spill the beans since he fell for my insulting manipulation, and he did not let me down.

"The poor guy is in shambles over you. I've barely seen him, and when I do, he looks fucking broken. I don't know the whole story, and now that I've met you, I don't even want to. You seem like a right bitch."

I couldn't help but be amused, even somewhat impressed with his candid guts. He looked like utter shit, but a worthy adversary nonetheless.

"Oh ok, says the guy who just called me a bitch. Fuck it, I'll ask him myself," I said, shoving past in the direction of the exit.

I could hear his shoes squeak against the floor behind me a few steps as he yelled back, "yeah, good luck with that, sweetheart."

When I had reached my car, my mouth spewed a few more obscenities as I fumbled to find my keys at the bottom of my purse.
"Son of a cunt ass bitch, I'll fucking go over there myself and etch another goddamn scar on his stupid fucking forehead for giving me this silence bullshit."

A few minutes later, I felt my shaking fingers clasp around my key ring and I got in my car, feeling more furious as the seconds passed. I was questioning whether I wanted to reconcile or lash out against Josh. How was I supposed to forgive and forget with someone who would not talk to me? Someone who was willing to leave me in the dark?

No matter how long we had known each other, I was not going to take that kind of treatment lying down. The situation between us had just gotten ten times harder to fix, and this time, it was his fault. I was willing to put myself far out there by worrying, and even conversing with his filthy friend. He would surely hear about Max and I's encounter, but in his mind, would that be enough? Did I have to actually physically haul my ass over to his place and do what he was too scared to? To confront him and be the band aid to all of little Josh's emotions? What about me, left to wonder and contemplate when he'd get the balls to do the right thing and be friends again? How long would I be left waiting?

The more questions that swirled in my head, the more frustrated and powerless I felt. I was never the one without the power and I hated the feel of that void. So much so that instead of going right at the intersection that split our two neighborhoods apart, I took a left towards his, accelerating ten miles over the speed limit of 40.
My hands were clenched on the steering wheel, my manicured nails digging into the leather and on the brink of piercing its skin. I could not comprehend how I would handle our meeting, but not a sing positive image crossed the backs of my eyes.

When I arrived at his neighborhood entrance I bolted in, then took a hard right at Flicker, his street. I could see the modest white one story with baby blue trim peeling at the edges. There was a basketball hoop by the curb that had gone unused by his family and taken over by the neighbor kids, not out that day due to the outrageous humidity level. There was only one car in the driveway, a beat up Jeep that belonged to his father, but his Pontiac was missing. I was disappointed by the discovery but decided a message to one of the other Franceschi's was better than nothing.

I pulled my car into park under the basketball hoop and slammed my car door as I got out, marching across the dying grass to the unkempt sidewalk until I reached the matching baby blue door, ringing the bell twice as I wiped my shoes on the garden inspired 'welcome' mat.
It does not take long for Josh's sister, Elissa, to answer in her flannel pajama pants and over-sized, stained white tee. Doesn't anyone take pride in their appearance anymore?

I faked a smile.
"Hey Elissa, is Josh here?"

It was a useless question, but I did not know how pathetic her brother could be. His car could have been parked around the block while hiding in his room like some kind of coward. I guess I was just tired of being unpleasantly shocked. But Elissa came across as completely sincere, and I knew a liar when I saw one. She was not it.

"I'm sorry, he's out visiting grandma."
She frowned while still moving out of the doorway to invite me inside.
I declined, it would have been too strange without him.

"No, that's alright. He went by himself?"

"Yeah, she wanted to take him out shopping before his birthday on Monday."

My stomach dropped. His birthday, in 2 days, and I had forgotten. It had to have been showing on my face because Elissa smirked at me, forgiving.
"Don't worry hun, you've still got time. But he told you his band's playing at the Rabbit, right?"

No, but I was intrigued.
"Monday at the Rabbit?"

"Yep, playing a show on his own birthday, talk about an attention whore."

"Tell me about it," I replied with a curt laugh.

We stood awkwardly for a few moments before she motioned behind her and said, "Well, I gotta keep practicing. Learning the piano never ends. So I'll see you on Monday, yeah?"

I nodded again and waved, facing in the direction of my car until my curiosity got the better of me and I couldn't hold back.
"Hey, Elissa?"

She opened the door widely again, giving me an odd stare.
"Yes?"

"Are you sure Josh wants me to be there on Monday?"

This puzzled her, and she cocked her head to the side to try to decipher my question, but comes out empty handed.
"Why wouldn't he?"

I paused, realizing that he hadn't mentioned anything about our cold feud. I did not know whether I was relieved or not.
"No reason, I guess. See ya."

As I walked away from the Franceschi house I had come to know so well, simmering in the humidity with its copious imperfections, I wondered if it would be the last time. If things would ever be right again.
Of course I was not invited to the show - he made it apparent that he did not want anything to do with me, but I could not accept that. I would not accept that. If Josh wanted to cut ties, he would have to hold the scissors in front of my face and do it himself. I was not going to give up that easily, and I knew that his birthday would be the day to either make or break us.

Hopefully he doesn't mind me being a surprise guest.