Landfill
Lies
I returned from my shower to see Ryan still lying on the bed. I dressed quickly, but he didn't move at all. I stood in front of him, "I'm gonna go home." I said to him.
He sat up, quickly; looking up at me. He grabbed my forearm and pulled me into his lap. I sighed, but I didn't protest his action.
"I don't want you to." He said quietly.
"I have to go. I have to fix my shit."
"Nikki, please," he wrapped his arms around me, tight.
I couldn't move, I didn't even try. I let my head rummage around the last 4 months. I remembered the things he first told me, and then I spoke up; "Why did you lie and tell me that you were broke and shacking up with Brendon?"
Ryan's embrace loosened. His arms slumped down; "I had to."
"You lied." I muttered, letting it fall from my lips. "Why?"
"Because, I had to, Nikki."
"You said," I swallowed thickly, "That you could barely anything to bury your dad, to--to pay your college debt off--"
He cut me off, "He's got his lawyers watching me, Nicole."
His voice was hard.
"What do you mean?" I stood up, folded my arms over my chest and watched him.
Ryan looked down, shaking his head; "My dad never trusted me, y'know. He wanted me to go to school or go to the goddamn army, live some uniformed lifestyle. He hated that I was my own person."
He paused and I waited. He was silent for more than a minute, "Tell me the whole truth. It's already over, I deserve it."
"I know you do, Nick." Ryan combed his thick hair back with hand, eyes still on the ground.
"So explain. No more silence and no more goddamn excuses."
Ryan gave a nod, "My dad... He found out that I was selling dope-- well, he thought I was using it and cut me off. I couldn't go to school, because, if I did, how would I explain it?" I didn't reply, even though he got quiet. "I dropped out, my dad kicked me out and I stayed with Brendon. And, Brendon, he's one of those misers, y'know? He piles his money, he lives like he can't afford shit, so I lived like him."
"Why did you care what your dad thought anyway?"
"Because, I love him, Nikki, I couldn't hurt him. He was like you, he wanted me to be moral and get a job. He didn't understand, just like you."
"He's dead now," I exhaled, "I hate to sound so harsh, but it's true. Why lie to anyone?"
"Because, his lawyers watch my financials. You think if I put all that fuckin' money in my account, I'll be able to go off free? My dad told them specifically that I have to work and I have to make honest money. How would it look, Nikki, if 20 grand was deposited into my bank account? I put what I would get at the record store into it and I don't arise suspicion."
"What about when you went to jail?"
"They couldn't do anything, I was caught."
"So, you're lying so you won't go to prison?"
"Yeah, just until my 25th birthday," he looked up at me, "That's when I'll get his money and his lawyers will be off of my case."
"His money, why would you need it?"
"I don't," again, his hand coursed his hair back, "Thats when it's over and it'll seem like I needed it and it'll all blow over."
I sighed and sat beside him on the bed. "Will you stop? Please, I'll do anything."
"I don't want you to do anything for me," he looked at me, his head turning to face me, "I just want you, nothing else."
I couldn't respond, I had nothing to say. My mind was shot; I wanted to hug Ryan, to kiss him.
"Ryan, I want you to stop." I said again, "There isn't enough money in the entire world that's worth your life."
"I'll cut back," he muttered tiredly, his fingertips pinched the bridge of his nose, "I won't do what I was planning in doing."
"You promise?"
He gave a long nod, as if he couldn't speak. I placed my arm around his shoulders and then kissed his cheek. Ryan wrapped his arms around me.
I numbed myself by watching TV. Nothing was on, and Ryan was lying beside me on the bed, his arm around my hips. I flipped the channels, surprising myself by engrossing myself in some stupid sitcom.
When it was over, Ryan was snoring and the news was starting. I sat up, pushing the pillow I was resting on up under my chin for leverage. My eyes focused on the TV when I saw a familiar neighborhood.
"A drive-by shooting in Sunmerlin Nevada arising questions about the local drug cartel that is spreading to our neck of the woods..."
My heart sped up as the camera spanned towards the downtown area of Fremont. The bars had shot out windows and people scattered about. White sheets covered bodies, a sick wave crashed inside my gut.
"It's like a scene from a massacre... 10 people are dead, some to be believe drug dealers. Officers got tips and are only saying the drug line is spreading from various cities- including our own--"
I shut the TV off and then a phone rang. It was muffled buried in Ryan's pocket. I sat up, "Ryan, wake up." His hand and arm slipped off of my body.
He stirred, "Yeah?"
His phone rang and rang. "Your phone, answer it."
Ryan sighed deeply, "What the hell for?"
"Because something is wrong." I spat, "Answer it."
Ryan sat up and squinted, "Goddammit."
My heart was speeding up, I could feel it coming, shoving it's way up my throat. I swallowed it away, the beating thumping against my chest, my throat.
"Yeah?" He answered; the ringing stopped, making my ears ring to the unhappy feelings swirling in the air. "...Oh shit," Ryan muttered, his free hand pushed his hair back. "...Is he okay? He's keeping his mouth shut, right?...I'll--I'll be there. Bye."
He shut the phone off and looked at me, "We got to go."
"What happened?" I asked feverishly, "Was it the shooting?"
"How did you know?" His brow furrowed.
"The TV," I sputtered, "They were talking about it-- somethin' about dealers in cities. I can't remember."
Ryan just nodded, "C'mon, lets go."
He sat up, quickly; looking up at me. He grabbed my forearm and pulled me into his lap. I sighed, but I didn't protest his action.
"I don't want you to." He said quietly.
"I have to go. I have to fix my shit."
"Nikki, please," he wrapped his arms around me, tight.
I couldn't move, I didn't even try. I let my head rummage around the last 4 months. I remembered the things he first told me, and then I spoke up; "Why did you lie and tell me that you were broke and shacking up with Brendon?"
Ryan's embrace loosened. His arms slumped down; "I had to."
"You lied." I muttered, letting it fall from my lips. "Why?"
"Because, I had to, Nikki."
"You said," I swallowed thickly, "That you could barely anything to bury your dad, to--to pay your college debt off--"
He cut me off, "He's got his lawyers watching me, Nicole."
His voice was hard.
"What do you mean?" I stood up, folded my arms over my chest and watched him.
Ryan looked down, shaking his head; "My dad never trusted me, y'know. He wanted me to go to school or go to the goddamn army, live some uniformed lifestyle. He hated that I was my own person."
He paused and I waited. He was silent for more than a minute, "Tell me the whole truth. It's already over, I deserve it."
"I know you do, Nick." Ryan combed his thick hair back with hand, eyes still on the ground.
"So explain. No more silence and no more goddamn excuses."
Ryan gave a nod, "My dad... He found out that I was selling dope-- well, he thought I was using it and cut me off. I couldn't go to school, because, if I did, how would I explain it?" I didn't reply, even though he got quiet. "I dropped out, my dad kicked me out and I stayed with Brendon. And, Brendon, he's one of those misers, y'know? He piles his money, he lives like he can't afford shit, so I lived like him."
"Why did you care what your dad thought anyway?"
"Because, I love him, Nikki, I couldn't hurt him. He was like you, he wanted me to be moral and get a job. He didn't understand, just like you."
"He's dead now," I exhaled, "I hate to sound so harsh, but it's true. Why lie to anyone?"
"Because, his lawyers watch my financials. You think if I put all that fuckin' money in my account, I'll be able to go off free? My dad told them specifically that I have to work and I have to make honest money. How would it look, Nikki, if 20 grand was deposited into my bank account? I put what I would get at the record store into it and I don't arise suspicion."
"What about when you went to jail?"
"They couldn't do anything, I was caught."
"So, you're lying so you won't go to prison?"
"Yeah, just until my 25th birthday," he looked up at me, "That's when I'll get his money and his lawyers will be off of my case."
"His money, why would you need it?"
"I don't," again, his hand coursed his hair back, "Thats when it's over and it'll seem like I needed it and it'll all blow over."
I sighed and sat beside him on the bed. "Will you stop? Please, I'll do anything."
"I don't want you to do anything for me," he looked at me, his head turning to face me, "I just want you, nothing else."
I couldn't respond, I had nothing to say. My mind was shot; I wanted to hug Ryan, to kiss him.
"Ryan, I want you to stop." I said again, "There isn't enough money in the entire world that's worth your life."
"I'll cut back," he muttered tiredly, his fingertips pinched the bridge of his nose, "I won't do what I was planning in doing."
"You promise?"
He gave a long nod, as if he couldn't speak. I placed my arm around his shoulders and then kissed his cheek. Ryan wrapped his arms around me.
•
I numbed myself by watching TV. Nothing was on, and Ryan was lying beside me on the bed, his arm around my hips. I flipped the channels, surprising myself by engrossing myself in some stupid sitcom.
When it was over, Ryan was snoring and the news was starting. I sat up, pushing the pillow I was resting on up under my chin for leverage. My eyes focused on the TV when I saw a familiar neighborhood.
"A drive-by shooting in Sunmerlin Nevada arising questions about the local drug cartel that is spreading to our neck of the woods..."
My heart sped up as the camera spanned towards the downtown area of Fremont. The bars had shot out windows and people scattered about. White sheets covered bodies, a sick wave crashed inside my gut.
"It's like a scene from a massacre... 10 people are dead, some to be believe drug dealers. Officers got tips and are only saying the drug line is spreading from various cities- including our own--"
I shut the TV off and then a phone rang. It was muffled buried in Ryan's pocket. I sat up, "Ryan, wake up." His hand and arm slipped off of my body.
He stirred, "Yeah?"
His phone rang and rang. "Your phone, answer it."
Ryan sighed deeply, "What the hell for?"
"Because something is wrong." I spat, "Answer it."
Ryan sat up and squinted, "Goddammit."
My heart was speeding up, I could feel it coming, shoving it's way up my throat. I swallowed it away, the beating thumping against my chest, my throat.
"Yeah?" He answered; the ringing stopped, making my ears ring to the unhappy feelings swirling in the air. "...Oh shit," Ryan muttered, his free hand pushed his hair back. "...Is he okay? He's keeping his mouth shut, right?...I'll--I'll be there. Bye."
He shut the phone off and looked at me, "We got to go."
"What happened?" I asked feverishly, "Was it the shooting?"
"How did you know?" His brow furrowed.
"The TV," I sputtered, "They were talking about it-- somethin' about dealers in cities. I can't remember."
Ryan just nodded, "C'mon, lets go."