Landfill

Ryan took my last cigarette and smoked it while I ate the burger he ordered for me. He also ordered a milkshake for me; I wasn't sure if was trying to soften the blow with this chocolate malted milkshake. I stared at it, the corner of my eye, I watched him smoke while looking at the bags near the door.

"I'm not hungry anymore," I said, "My stomach hurts."

Ryan gave a nod, blowing the smoke out and then went to the bag. I pushed the plate away from myself, sitting back in the chair; the whiff of fries made my stomach growl an churn; I was hungry, but I wasn't at the same time. Ryan adverted my attention as he came over, took my hand and led me towards the bed. He set me down, along with the bag; "Open it." He told me.

I felt my heart thumping. The blood in my veins pumped so fast and hard, I could hear them. I looked at the navy blue duffle bag, wondering what was inside. It wasn't bloody, there wasn't any smell to it. My hand shook as I pulled the zipper over the top, teeth spreading as I did so. I exhaled when to my relief, I saw his clothes.

Just as it seemed my blood stopped racing through my veins, Ryan says; "Move my clothes."

I looked up at him, seeing how large his eyes were. They were dilated; he was excited, nervous. I looked back, my hand moving his clothes to one side...

I saw money. Piles of Jeffersons looking back at me. Like dead fish, without air, inanimate, waiting to be spent. I swallowed and grabbed one stack; it had a brown tag around the width, purple printing, indicating that it was $5,000. My hands flipped through the money like a flip book cartoon; no amusement, just confusion.

"Did you rob a bank?" I asked dumbly as I looked up at him.

Ryan shook his head, he sat next to me. His face was pale, ghostly white. "No... And, I don't work at the record store."

I felt numb. Nothing hit me. I was still completely confused.

"Then... What is it?" I asked.

Ryan exhaled deeply, his palms on his thighs, near his knees, "I work for this guy... This guy named Shane." He stopped. Just stopped. Nothing else.

Silence engulfed us for more than 30 seconds. I could hear the old fashion clock on the wall above the flat screen television. I liked over my lips, the big hand sliding over the smaller; it was 9:46.

"What do you do for Shane?" I asked then; my voice was low and curious.

Ryan looked at me, his teeth held his bottom lip before he spoke, "I... I, uh, sell drugs."

I blinked. Then, it hit me. It hit me like a bat to the back of my head. Hitting that soft spot. It all made sense. "You're a drug dealer." I stated.

"Yeah." He nodded; he exhaled deeply, yet again. "You don't know how good I feel right now."

After he said that, I wanted to hit him. I put the money back into his bag and stood up, placing my hands on my hips. I looked towards the large window, with the moss green curtains shut. I then folded my arms over my chest, not a single thought processed fully.

"Nicole," Ryan said my name, "Are you mad at me?"

"I don't know." I answered truthfully; my voice was like a dumb blondes. Like how my voice should sound since I am a blonde. Like a quizzical child with a never ending list of questions.

"I needed the money. Brendon hooked me onto it, you don't know it all," he said this desperately, and I heard him stand. "A regular job couldn't work for me. I needed to pay for my dad's funeral, pay my college tuition. My mom wouldn't help me!" His voice began to rise, "I don't even exist to her anymore, Nikki!"

I turned to face him; he was only a few feet from me. "Don't yell at me." I told him shortly.

His shoulders slumped, "I'm sorry, I just... I'm not sure what you think."

"I don't know what to think." I muttered. "Why did you lie to me?" I finally asked.

"Would you like me if you had known I sold drugs to those people down the street from us? That I stand outside notorious spots and give some fiend a fix for the night?"

I blinked rapidly, feeling more upset by the second. My heart was racing again. "I don't know." I say again. "I really don't. Probably. Maybe. You didn't have to tell me right away, why wait 4 months?"

"Because I'm in love with you. I didn't want you to leave me." He came over to me, his hands taking hold of my upper arms.

I looked at his hands, "Aren't you scared about this?" I asked him, my mind thinking at a quick pace, "That you'll get hurt?"

That's when everything hit me again. The fact that he was beaten up so many times. I pushed his hands away from me and stepped back, palming my mouth.

Ryan looked worried; brows furrowed and his mouth ajar. "Nikki--"

"Why did they rob you?" The words fumbled from my mouth, "Why? Because you had drugs in the apartment? Because you owed them or something?"

Ryan's head hung, "Nikki--"

"Answer me!" I snapped at him, "I could've been there, they could've hurt me, you know! They took my computer, they hurt you! They could've killed you!"

"But they didn't!" He stepped forward towards me, "They didn't, and I'm grateful. I'm sorry about your computer, they took it because it was in my duffle bag--"

"I don't care about that! I'm just saying, alright? I can't believe this," I moved around him, going towards the bed, "I can't..." Again, my brain scrambled, "Why are we here? Why did you need to come to California so badly?"

Ryan turned to face me, "Police raid." He said simply, voice low.

"Police raid?" I snapped, "What the hell does that mean?"

"They're going to raid Shane's rival's turf. I sell near there and I can't be there, I can't have--" he stopped.

He looked as if he said too much. A wave of nausea rushed through me.

"You can't have what?" I questioned him.

He sighed and ran his hand over his face, "Might as well tell you..."

"Yeah, might as well," I quipped back.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut before dropped his hand. "I was arrested when I was 21 for possession. I went to jail for 96 days, I got out, was kicked out of school and struggling. I stopped selling for awhile, until Brendon and Spencer hooked me back up with a new connection; Shane. I needed a place to stay, I needed to lay low; that's why I didn't have a place when I met you. Staying with Brendon was convenient."

I laughed lowly, letting it out. I don't know why I laughed. It came out hollow. I couldn't look at him. I felt too much to even turn to face him.

"I think the truth would be a lot easier," I said after a moment of stillness between us. "I didn't think that this would be what you did... I don't know what I thought... Maybe I didn't. Yeah, I didn't."

"Nikki, I'm sorry--"

I shot a glance at him, "What're you sorry for? You didn't do anything but lie to me. You're making a living, you're living, you're trying to have what you need."

"I'm sorry for keeping it to you." He said after me. "I do love you, I do want to marry you. I want a life with you, Nikki." Came back over, shoving the duffle bag to the floor; the sound of thick stacks of money slapping together against fabric filled the air. "That's all I want from you; a life."

I scooted away from him, "I need to be alone right now." I said suddenly, stressing; "Please."

Ryan gave a nod and stood, "I'll go..." His hand touched my shoulder, "Nikki, I really am sorry."

"I know." I told him.

Ryan leant down and kissed the top of my head and left the room. The door opened quietly, and then click closed just as quiet. I stood up after, rubbing my hands; my fingers becoming locked in a grip of my palms. I squeezed my fingers, nervousness and uneasiness soaring through me.

"Oh God." I mumbled to myself.

He sells drugs. What kind of drugs? Why does it matter? It doesn't, now does it? I still love him, but I think he's an idiot.

He kept this from me. But, so what? It's out now. But, what if people start to hurt him? What if the police catch wind of Ryan's illegal activities and come after him? Or me? I don't think I could ever handle going to prison or even a moment of police questioning.

So many thoughts and so many pros and cons. So many questions and accusations and feelings. I can't pinpoint a fucking thing to actually flourish properly into an actual happening.