Sequel: Shaken and Stirred ›
Getting through Traffic
Savior=Boyfriend
Boyfriend. Adjective describing a boy in your life that you feel strong feelings for. Other meanings. Boy that makes you happy. Boy that knows when to protect you. Boy that calls you and holds you when you’re sad. Boy that breaks your drum sticks.
That boy…looked at me sheepishly, smiling widely. I shook my head and rubbed my temples.
“Ardy…” I groaned, “Not my…Vic Firths. Please not the Vic Firths.” He smiled wider and handed them to me. Broken strait down the middle, I looked down at them and sighed, “My birthday is in ten days…I better be getting some new ones.”
“Oh…he’s got something better.” Frank spoke up. I looked at him and smiled,
“Like last year’s birthday present? A hug?”
“Hey!” Gerard said defending himself, “I was broke that week.” I pointed at Mikey, who sat there looking at us with his wide eyes,
“He bought me a stuffed animal.”
“That was a year ago!” Gerard said, glaring at his little brother. Mikey grinned, he was glad to finally be able to show his brother up. Even if was a little gift.
“It doesn’t matter.” I spoke up, feeling a fight about to come up. I sat down behind my drum set and started to tap on the cymbals, “We gotta fix that one part, it sounds so funky.” Frank walked to me and played a wild chord.
“I like funky.” He started to shake his butt. Frank was trying to get…down. I laughed and shook my head at him,
“What am I going to do with you, my friend? What am I going to do with you?” Gerard asked. And the four of us spend the rest of the night laughing and joking around in Frank’s basement.
That was the summer after my freshman year.
“Say it.” Gerard hissed at me, I shook my head and looked at the volleyball in my hands, “Saying it makes every situation better.” I narrowed my eyes and looked at him,
“No, Gerard, and that’s final.”
“Come one…you say it when you are with the boys.” I sighed and threw up the ball. Right when my hand contacted the ball, I let out a great big,
“FUCK!” The gym got silent as all the people’s eyes rotated towards me. I felt the heat start on my cheeks as I went to get the volleyball. Please…don’t let me get in trouble. Please…don’t let me get in trouble. The sounds of gym soon flooded my ears again and I let out a sigh of relief.
“See…told you it would make you feel better.” I threw up the ball and “accidentally” hit Gerard in the head.
“You are right; hitting you in the head did make me feel better.” His darkened eyes looked at me with a twinkle. The twinkle I’m only allowed to see. Gym class ended, marking the end of another day. Marking the end of another week. Marking the end of another month. Marking another day I haven’t cut. Marking another day I think of my father. Marking another day I hold hands walking down the street with Gerard. Marking…my almost perfect life.
“So what do you want to do today?” he always asks, I always shrug and always look at him. Nothing really has changed between us. We still are best friends, but now we kiss, and hug longer, and make out. I let out a little laugh,
“I want to talk about the future.” He tensed up a bit, like he always does talking about the future. But he always sighs and obliges, like a best friend would, “Where are you thinking about college?”
“School of Visual Arts in New York.” I nodded, smiling widely at him. It was the first time I had heard a positive response like that.
“Really? You are going to get in. Your drawings are amazing.” He nodded and looked up at me,
“Where do you want to go?”
“University of Chicago.” This is where he gets angry. Usually. I watched his face carefully and watched him nod.
“That’s a good school you know. But you’ll get in. You are so intelligent.” I laughed at him and pushed him in the grass. He lied there and put his hand in the air.
“Why did you push me?” He whined. I shrugged and gave him my hand to pull him up. Except he pulled me down. There we lay, not more than 200 meters from the school, me on top of him. I looked at him as he moved my hair away from my eyes, “I love you, Raven Angela Sophia Wellington.” Just lying there in his arms is way better than the kiss that follows. Way better. But…the kiss is always good, too.
“No mom!” I screamed at her. My home life was getting a bit better. Each day was hard for her, I know. Some days I still have a hard time looking at myself in the mirror. I’m 16 now, and I don’t have a license. I don’t want one. Ever.
When I lie away looking at the purple ceiling of my newly painted rooms, I could his screams. I can hear him telling me stopping. But I can also hear him telling me its okay. That it was just an accident. I don’t ever know which voice to listen too. All I know is thinking about the boyfriend helps.
Boyfriend….a boy that saves you from the lowest part of your life and holds on to you so tight that its hard to breath. But you welcome that closeness, because it means…day after day after day after day…that you still are alive, and this isn’t one big dream.
Boyfriend…God, I love you.
That boy…looked at me sheepishly, smiling widely. I shook my head and rubbed my temples.
“Ardy…” I groaned, “Not my…Vic Firths. Please not the Vic Firths.” He smiled wider and handed them to me. Broken strait down the middle, I looked down at them and sighed, “My birthday is in ten days…I better be getting some new ones.”
“Oh…he’s got something better.” Frank spoke up. I looked at him and smiled,
“Like last year’s birthday present? A hug?”
“Hey!” Gerard said defending himself, “I was broke that week.” I pointed at Mikey, who sat there looking at us with his wide eyes,
“He bought me a stuffed animal.”
“That was a year ago!” Gerard said, glaring at his little brother. Mikey grinned, he was glad to finally be able to show his brother up. Even if was a little gift.
“It doesn’t matter.” I spoke up, feeling a fight about to come up. I sat down behind my drum set and started to tap on the cymbals, “We gotta fix that one part, it sounds so funky.” Frank walked to me and played a wild chord.
“I like funky.” He started to shake his butt. Frank was trying to get…down. I laughed and shook my head at him,
“What am I going to do with you, my friend? What am I going to do with you?” Gerard asked. And the four of us spend the rest of the night laughing and joking around in Frank’s basement.
That was the summer after my freshman year.
“Say it.” Gerard hissed at me, I shook my head and looked at the volleyball in my hands, “Saying it makes every situation better.” I narrowed my eyes and looked at him,
“No, Gerard, and that’s final.”
“Come one…you say it when you are with the boys.” I sighed and threw up the ball. Right when my hand contacted the ball, I let out a great big,
“FUCK!” The gym got silent as all the people’s eyes rotated towards me. I felt the heat start on my cheeks as I went to get the volleyball. Please…don’t let me get in trouble. Please…don’t let me get in trouble. The sounds of gym soon flooded my ears again and I let out a sigh of relief.
“See…told you it would make you feel better.” I threw up the ball and “accidentally” hit Gerard in the head.
“You are right; hitting you in the head did make me feel better.” His darkened eyes looked at me with a twinkle. The twinkle I’m only allowed to see. Gym class ended, marking the end of another day. Marking the end of another week. Marking the end of another month. Marking another day I haven’t cut. Marking another day I think of my father. Marking another day I hold hands walking down the street with Gerard. Marking…my almost perfect life.
“So what do you want to do today?” he always asks, I always shrug and always look at him. Nothing really has changed between us. We still are best friends, but now we kiss, and hug longer, and make out. I let out a little laugh,
“I want to talk about the future.” He tensed up a bit, like he always does talking about the future. But he always sighs and obliges, like a best friend would, “Where are you thinking about college?”
“School of Visual Arts in New York.” I nodded, smiling widely at him. It was the first time I had heard a positive response like that.
“Really? You are going to get in. Your drawings are amazing.” He nodded and looked up at me,
“Where do you want to go?”
“University of Chicago.” This is where he gets angry. Usually. I watched his face carefully and watched him nod.
“That’s a good school you know. But you’ll get in. You are so intelligent.” I laughed at him and pushed him in the grass. He lied there and put his hand in the air.
“Why did you push me?” He whined. I shrugged and gave him my hand to pull him up. Except he pulled me down. There we lay, not more than 200 meters from the school, me on top of him. I looked at him as he moved my hair away from my eyes, “I love you, Raven Angela Sophia Wellington.” Just lying there in his arms is way better than the kiss that follows. Way better. But…the kiss is always good, too.
“No mom!” I screamed at her. My home life was getting a bit better. Each day was hard for her, I know. Some days I still have a hard time looking at myself in the mirror. I’m 16 now, and I don’t have a license. I don’t want one. Ever.
When I lie away looking at the purple ceiling of my newly painted rooms, I could his screams. I can hear him telling me stopping. But I can also hear him telling me its okay. That it was just an accident. I don’t ever know which voice to listen too. All I know is thinking about the boyfriend helps.
Boyfriend….a boy that saves you from the lowest part of your life and holds on to you so tight that its hard to breath. But you welcome that closeness, because it means…day after day after day after day…that you still are alive, and this isn’t one big dream.
Boyfriend…God, I love you.