Take This to Your Grave

"I dream about killing myself."

My eyes squared him up; "Shut up." It came out in a harsh command, "Don't joke like that."

He frowned deeply, "I'm not joking."

I felt myself tear up. I don't know why, but I did. I moved forward, making our distance great. I wanted to be away from him.

"Naomi!" He called after me, and I stopped.

I faced him, "Don't joke like that! That's not funny! Suicide isn't some joke!"

Pete had no expression to his face. He blinked, "I apologize."

The tears weren't coming up. The fresh ones rolled down my cheeks and I wiped them away. Pete continued to look at me, and then he took steps to me; "Why are you crying?"

"Because it's not funny." I muttered.

"Did you know someone who killed themselves?"

"No. I just don't like it, okay? I think it's terribly sad that someone should ever feel that way."

"It's how I feel." Pete said, "I feel like that all the time. I don't know what it is, my brain is all fucked up."

The dogs strayed until our wrist were tugged towards their direction. Still, we stood locked into place. I took the opportunity to embrace Pete; I hugged him as tightly and warmly as I could.

He froze, but it took a millisecond for him to relent and hug me back. He wrapped his arms around my back, and pressed his forehead to my shoulder, saying, in a muffled voice, "Thank you."

I rubbed his back, "No problem, Pete."

Our hug was interrupted by Pandora tugging Pete's wrist. We both chuckled and started to walk back home. I rubbed my eyes, making sure all the tears were gone.

"We should talk more." Pete said softly.

"We do talk." I muttered dumbly.

"No, I mean, really talk." He exhaled.

I think he was embarrassed to say that he wanted to talk about his suicidal thoughts. I understood, nodding, "Yeah, okay. Weekdays are best... Our parents work."

He smiled, "Yep."

We got to our block and we stopped at the corner; "I'm gonna go around the other side," Pete told me, "Inconspicuous."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Alright James Bond."

Pete waved to me, and walked off. I continued forward, making it to the Wentz's in a minute. I went through the gate and up to the house; Andrew was coming out as Princess waltz inside. "Hey Naomi."

"Hi," I greeted him back. "I'm just returning Princess."

"Yeah, my mom said you'd be back." Andrew leaned back in his heels.

The silence was a little awkward. I cleared my throat; "So, where are you off to?"

"I gotta go to work." He flashed me his name tag on his red polo.

"Oh, you work at Ralph's."

"Yeah. I should get going," he stepped out the door as I went in, "It was nice seeing you."

"You too."

Andrew was out of my sight quickly, hurrying over to his car parked at the curb. Just as he got in, Pete came up with Pandora and he said something to him, but I didn't bother to hear. I went in, taking the leash off of Princess; she went leaping off towards the living room.

"Mrs. Wentz?" I called out.

"I'm in here." She was in the kitchen still.

I walked in, seeing her bustling around putting things away; "I just wanted to let you know I brought Princess back."

"Thank you, honey," she smiled at me, "Is Pete still out?"

"I guess, I didn't see him." I felt kind of bad lying to her, straight to her face.

She gave a nod, "All right. Thanks again, Naomi. I appreciate it."

"It's no biggie, Mrs. Wentz. I'll see you later."

"See you." She hummed as I left the kitchen.

Pete came into the house as I prepared to exit. He winked at me as he passed, letting Pandora rush off like Princess had done. "Bye Naomi."

"See ya, Pete." I replied.


My dad got home around 2, I had been watching TV when he came in. "Naomi?"

"In here."

My dad appeared by the couch, looking at me. I looked back, trying to read his face; "What?" I asked.

His lips turned up, "I want you to meet Amy."

My brows rose, "Already?"

"Yes, already. We've been dating for a few months."

I giggled, "I can't believe you date, dad."

"I do. So, get up. We're gonna go out to eat lunch with her."

I stood, stretching, "Sure thing, dad."

My dad smiled, "I know you'll like her."

I shrugged, "I hope so."

I went off upstairs while my dad sat back on the couch. I hurriedly freshened up, and made my way back downstairs. My dad was standing now, keys in hand, "Ya ready?"

"Yep."

He hummed and made his way out the front door; I followed, and closed the door, and he locked it. Down the pathway I saw Pete in his yard, shirt missing, talking to the girl from the other day. I assumed it was Leah; she saw me and sneered, the smile had disappeared so quickly. I frowned, Pete looked and he gave me a look of apology. I shook my head and got into the passenger side of my dad's truck.

"That kid ever wear clothes?" My dad chuckled as we drove pass.

"Guess not." I muttered with a small laugh.

"He hasn't given you any trouble has he?"

I shook my head, "We don't talk, dad."

"Good. I know boys like Pete Wentz, Naomi. They're nothing but scumbags."

I laughed again, "Geez, dad."

"It's true. The kids here are all... Punks. They've got tattoos and piercings and scream into microphones for attention because they're bored."

I blinked, "Maybe they have nothing else better to do."

"They should get jobs."

I swallowed, "Uh, Mrs. Wentz says Pete's going to Columbia."

"Yeah, she told me that, too. He's studying Political Science; how off is that?"

"Very off." I said softly.

"Speaking of which, what do you want to do next year, Naomi?"

"Paint... Maybe. I don't know, dad. I can barely pick out what I'm gonna wear in the morning."

He chuckled, "No need to rush. I just want you to finish college, do what I couldn't."

I gave a small nod that he missed. My dad had gone to college to study engineering, but dropped out when my mom had me. I lived with my dad from the time I was 3 months old, until I was 4; when my mom graduated and gotten a kick back job in Manhattan. I barely remember living with him back then, but he has tons of pictures of us in his one bedroom apartment with a futon and a TV. He started his construction company when I was 6, and managed to find a new home, with that woman who broke his heart.

"You've made a success out of yourself, dad." I pointed.

"Yeah, but we all can't be so lucky, Naomi."

"You're right. I'm just not sure what I want to do... The world is my oyster."

He smiled, shaking his head, the dimples in his cheeks matched my own; "Sure is."