Julius

It was midsummer when Julius sold me this bright red car. Back then, his eyes were electric, and I felt naked and stupid under his gaze.

Back then, I was threadbare and in pieces, and he wasted all his time fixing me when he was just as fucked up.

Julius used to tell me these stories about his mom and her suicide. I’d cry in the backseat with him holding me in his fatal arms. I crumbled when he spoke, unorthodox and irresistible.

His lips curled, eyes glassy and vacant, while he told me how his dad held the gun to her head, but he couldn’t do it.

Sometimes, I would look at Julius and swear there was no one there. He was skin and bones ready to shatter with oblivion. I’d fall asleep, and when the sun rose, I woke up next to fragments of Julius, and he was beautiful.

They sat on our kitchen floor, while she waited, looking him dead in the eyes. He cried while she waited. They could have sat there forever, just waiting, but she got tired, and she wanted to go. I could have come home any moment, and I could have saved her.

I cried, my stupid tears streaming all over his car seat’s upholstery.

Every instant, we were bleeding into each other. We were dying everyday, but I swear, we thought we were getting better.

You know... it was my fault. My dad knew I wasn’t his kid, and he went insane as she swore she never cheated.

I fell for him. Julius was my religion and he was my drug, and when he left I was worse than when I met him.

So you want the car? Cherry red, Valentine, it’s cool, and as he said this, his teeth gleamed bright white as he pulled out a cherry stem, tied in a knot, and I swear it was the corniest thing in the world.

What do you want me to say? I wanted us to be better. Sometimes it’d get bad, and we’d be high and angry, but most moments, we were both happy and that’s all that matters. I only wanted him to be better, and he wanted the same for me.

And God, I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him...