Bulls in the Bronx

“Austin sure knows how to pick ‘em,” Chandler mumbled as her and Tony continued their stroll, “why does she want you back so badly? It’s been, like, since senior year right?”
He nodded his head, “I really don’t know. She dumped me.”

“I’m just kinda worried, Veronica’s well—you saw her in that bikini, she’s fucking gorgeous. How can I compete with that?”

“Chandler, shut up. You know you don’t have to; look if I wanted her—which I don’t— I could have her. She wants me to have her; she’s not here for Austin. But I don’t want her; you are the only person I’d ever want.”

“I’m sorry I keep thinking that way, I just—” she spotted an angry-looking woman walk towards them; she looked around thirty.

“Do you think that is okay—walking out the house looking like that?”

“I’m sorry; I thought this was the beach. Apparently, it’s not,” Chandler sarcastically replied.

“Don’t be a smart ass; you know what I’m talking about. Those-those scars on your body! (Chandler eyes watered out of anger) Do you think you’re setting a good example for young kids?!”
Before she spoke, Chandler took a deep breath, and calmly responded, “First of all, I’m not doing this for a trend or anything, I’m not doing this to attract attention. I “walked out the house looking like this” because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life hiding. If I offend you, I’m sorry. Second of all, its people like you and everyone else who’s been glaring at me today, that cause people like me to do this. Lastly,” she said this as politely as possible, “I’m not your fucking child. I’m not a fucking a child at all, so can you like not approach me like that, thanks. Have a nice fucking day.”

And with that, they continued their walk.

“You were saying…” said Tony.

“I was apologizing for being so insecure when you call me beautiful on a daily basis,” Chandler smiled, “let’s go back to the party, everything’s just getting so crazy.”

So they went back to shack and it seemed like a lot of people had left.

“I’m gonna go find Michelle,” She told Tony. Michelle was the only female friend Chandler had. The first place she looked was behind the shack. Sitting against the wall holding a half empty Jack Daniel’s bottle was Michelle. Chandler ran to her.

“Hey,” Chandler sighed, and Michelle looked up. Her pretty, smiley face was wet and her eyes looked swollen and pink. Michelle gave a weak smile and Chandler sat next to her, “Where’s Mike?”

“Went to the drug store,” she sniffed.

“Why?”

“Ibuprofen,” Michelle croaked, after a long pause, “Chandler I’m an alcoholic.”

“No, no you-“

“Yes, I am.”

“Just because you get drunk early doesn’t mean—”

“It wasn’t just today,” and another tear escaped her face, “Ever since me and Mike met, a year ago. Believe it or not, I was even worse than I am now when I first met him, but for some reason, he stuck around. He’s helped me, he supported me, he didn’t give up on me.

“When I met you 5 months ago, I was sober; not greatly but I was. And now, I don’t know what happened, for these last few weeks, I’ve been drinking myself to the point where-where I can barely taste or feel anything anymore. But Mike,” her voice broke, “fucking Mike. He… loves me so much and helped me so much, I can’t even—I can’t even assure him that I’d be sane. I didn’t even drink all of this,” she held up the bottle, “Mike poured it out, but I just can’t bring myself to drink the rest. I love him so much, but I feel like he’s spent all this time for nothing.”

Chandler comforted Michelle, “Mich, if Mike loved you before you recovered, he’ll love you when you relapse.”

“I know that, but,” she was crying even harder, “he can’t. He shouldn’t. He deserves someone not like me-” Chandler shook her head.

“No, Mich, stop, don’t talk like that. Ever.”

“But Chandler, I just feel like…I should end us.”

“Why Mich, he loves you and you love him, why would you hurt him like that?”

“Because I…I want to die, Chan, I want to kill myself. I’m so tired of everything, and I don’t want for him to lose me that way.”

There was a long pause, “Mich, you don’t mean that. You’re drunk mixed with depression, the worst combination ever.”

“I just grown so attached to him, I don’t know how I can, ya know…stay sane. I’ve never done that before.”

“Well, kiddo, killing yourself will only make things worse,” and as if light bulb popped in her head, “Ya know, you and I could help each other. I’m trying to stay sober from cutting; you’re trying to stay sober from alcohol. How ‘bout it?”

A smile formed on Michelle’s sullen face, “That sounds wonderful,” just then, someone opened the door.

“Hey, Mich, I got the ibuprofen,” said Mike quietly, “We should probably go, everyone’s leaving.”

Mike helped Mich up, and they walked off, leaving the Jack Daniel’s bottle and Chandler alone. It had gotten pretty dark; it was at least eight o’ clock. Chandler reached for the bottle and saw that there was just a little bit under half left. She swirled it around and drunk what was left of it and coughed harshly.

She sighed, “All of this fucking drama…I should’ve been a lesbian.”

Meanwhile, Tony sat at the end of the snack bar waiting for Chandler, a Monster in hand for her. He bounced his knee in silent anxiety as he watch more and more people leave. Soon, he saw a familiar face walk by.

“Tino,” he stood up, “Tino.”

“Sup bro.”

“I’m waiting for Chandler; she went to go look for Michelle but she and Mike left almost thirty minutes ago, you wouldn’t know where she is would you?”

“Yeah, she’s just chillin outside in the back, I went out there few minutes ago and she said she just wanted to be alone for a while.”

Tony nodded but was still concerned; he knew, if no one else didn’t know, that leaving Chandler alone wasn’t good for her…or him, for that matter. He slowly walked towards the door; Monster still in hand (as it calmed her down more than anything), almost opened the back door when an annoying fake-high pitched voice called him.

“Turtle,” said the half-naked, purple headed chic.

“Don’t ever call me that, Veronica,” he flatly told her without looking at her.

“C’mon Tone, don’t be like that—”

“Don’t you get it, I don’t want you. I’m not going to want you. You’re just another manipulative slut-bag. The least you could do was leave Austin out of this…besides, you’re wasting your time. I love Chandler, and that would never change,” he dared to catch a small glance at her and she smirked.

“Well, we’ll see about that,” and she strutted away. Tony shook his head ‘Why does she have to be so fucking childish?’

He found Chandler sitting against the wall, eyes staring the moon. He sat next to her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, just really thinky. Wishy, too.”

“About what?”

“Well, about my parents, I kind of wish they were here. I kinda miss their humor, and I feel like I need their advice more than ever.”

Tony sighed and Chandler never broke her gaze, “You shouldn’t let her get to you.”

“Tony, I know I shouldn’t, but, believe it or not, “Roni’s” not gonna stop until I’m out of the picture…for good. That’s the truth.”

“Stop talking like that, you make it sound like she’ll kill you.”

Chandler shrugged, “Tony, she’s held a grudge for this long; only a true psycho would try to take something they threw away in the first place by force.”

“So,” Tony felt like he could barely breathe, and Chandler tore her eyes away from the dark sky and looked at him, “are we…are we breaking up?”

“No-no, I would never do that, I could never bring myself to do that. Why would you think that?” she rambled as if it was the rash thing to think.

“You make it sound like—”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just saying it is what it is,” she shrugged again, “I’m not gonna pretend that she’s not after you, you might even be tempted at some point, but I’ll be damned if I ever lose you because of me.”

He smiled and noticed the bottle she clutched, “You’ve been drinking.”

“Yeah, I have but I feel fine, and it belonged to Michelle. We agreed to keep each other company while you motherfuckers are away.”

“Well, that’s good. C’mon, let’s go wait by the car so Jaime and Vic can take us home,” he got up and pulled her up by the hand, “It’s been a long day, and I leave in two days. So tomorrow, we’re just staying home, and isolating ourselves from everything,” Chandler smiled, “No phone, no invites, no social networking sites; just us.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Chandler yawned, “We don’t have to wear pants right?”

“No,” Tony laughed, “We don’t have to wear pants.”
They walked towards the car, with Tony holding Chandler by the waist—she was staggering from tiredness and being almost drunk—not even bothering to go in the shack and bid everyone else inside adieu. The car door was open and they just stayed in the back seat, holding each other in silence.