Love Is Hell

Lina.

“Lina, I can’t decide between the pink dress or the green blouse I bought last week!” Courtney cried as we spoke via cellphone.

“What in the world are you talking about?” I asked. It was Saturday evening and I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to a repeating shuffle of Ryan Adams, Death Cab for Cutie, Third Eye Blind, and Tom Petty.

“My date! My date with Pat is in an hour and I can’t decide what to wear!” she shrieked.

“Court, calm down. You’re supposed to be the sensible one, here,” I said. “You will look great in whatever you wear, and if Pat doesn’t think so, he’s an idiot.”

“Thanks, Lina, but will you please just help me anyway?”

“Fine. Where’s he taking you?”

“We’re going to that Italian restaurant downtown.”

“I’d say wear the blouse, not the dress. You want to look nice, but not too nice,” I said, humming along with the song that was currently playing.

“Okay, good idea. I’ve got to go get ready now!” she squealed.

“Alright, tell me how the date goes!” I said before we ended the call. If Courtney -the practical one- was acting this scatterbrained, she must really like Pat. Now that I think about it, she’s never been freaked out over a boy a day in her life before.

I lay on my bed for a few more minutes. I wanted this date to go well for my best friend. But, there was that part of me that was inevitably worried that Pat would hurt her, or steal her away from me.

For some reason that made me think of Garrett. Once again, I’d been civil with him. He really wasn’t a bad guy and he was nice to talk to.

I smiled, thinking of something he’d said to me yesterday.

It was after Courtney had left, and we were walking out of the art room after working on the project.

“This place feels really... chill.”

I nodded. “This might sound silly, but I’ve sort of based my loft above my bedroom on this room.” I was surprised I’d even told him that much. I didn’t want to tell him any more than that, and I’d hoped he wouldn’t ask why I liked the art room so much. Truthfully, that art room was was a hideout when I didn’t want to be around people. In my freshman and sophomore year, I’d even eaten lunch in there many times. That was back when I was pretty upset about my dad, still.

“You know, Lina, you’re actually a lot different than I thought you were,” Garrett had said. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

I sighed as the song I was listening to ended, leaving my bedroom silent. It was then that I remember the CD Garrett gave me, of his band. I grabbed it from it’s place on my desk and pushed it into my laptop, letting the sound of their band fill my room now.

After listening to the whole thing, I came to the conclusion that I actually enjoyed Garrett and his friends’ band. They had decent lyrics, and were the kind of music that I would actually listen to by choice. Coming from John O’Callaghan, I’d expected rap verses about sex and partying. Given, certain songs hinted sex, but in a way that didn’t come off as inappropriate or perverted.

After listening to the CD a couple of times, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs that lead to the second story of our house. Then I heard a light tapping noise on my door.

“Come in,” I said, thinking it was probably Danny and that he’d woken up and wanted to crawl into bed with me.

“Hey, sis,” a voice deeper than Danny’s said as he pushed the door open, revealing Joey in his work uniform. Joey worked as a waiter at a restaurant in town, and he was good at what he did. He was a people-person; he was handsome and funny and easy to talk to. I was almost the opposite of him. He’d always tell me that I was like a cat: sweet and cuddly until you ticked me off and made my claws come out.

“Hi, Joey,” I said, sitting up. “What’s up?”

He shrugged. “I got off of work early tonight, so I brought food home if you want some.”

I nodded. “Thanks, J.”

“What are you listening to? I don’t think I’ve heard it before...” He asked, jerking his head toward my stereo I’d gotten for Christmas.

“It’s The Maine. You know, Jared’s band,” I said. Calling them ‘Jared’s band’ was the only way Joey would remember who they were.

“Oh, cool, cool. Where’d you get the CD?”

“Garrett, the bass player, gave it to me,” I answered, trying to be nonchalant. Ever since our dad left, Joey’s been the ‘man of the house’ and was cautious -like me- of any boy I talked to. Even if I loved my brother and how he protected me, it got rather annoying sometimes.

“Oh yeah, I remember him. He’s got the reddish-brown hair and nose ring, right?” he asked. I nodded. “I think he has a crush on you, sis,” Joey said, grinning.