The Truth About Love

I was jerked unpleasantly from my sleep when something warm and heavy landed on my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, before glaring down at the huge cat kneading my stomach.

“Get off, Moose.” I grumbled, shoving the monster off with a swipe of my arm and causing him to growl at me menacingly.

I stretched before becoming aware that Roxanne wasn’t sleeping next to me.

“Roxanne?” I called, standing up and going into the kitchen for a glass of water.

“Back here!” I heard her reply from somewhere down the hallway.

I made my way down the dark hall and walked into the only room that had a light on. I was instantly impressed by her guitar collection. There were a number of acoustic guitars and a couple of electric guitars paired with different sized amps.

Roxanne was sitting on a black leather couch pushed up against the far wall with an acoustic guitar across her lap.

“Hi.” She said simply, smiling over at me when I sat down next to her.

“What’s up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She shrugged, going back to strumming.

I just sat back and listened. Staring at her back, I could see the script of her tattoo through the white linen of her shirt.

“What’s your tattoo mean?”

“Which one?” She grinned, gesturing to her legs and feet, which were also inked.

“The script on your back.” I clarified, reaching over to trace the ink through her shirt with the tip of my finger.

“It’s from a song. You wanna hear it?”

I nodded and leaned forward, propping my elbow on my knee and holding my chin in my palm. I closed my eyes and listened, pleasantly surprised to hear that she had a delicate voice.

'There's a whole 'nother conversation going on
In a parallel universe.
Where nothing breaks and nothing hurts.
There's a waltz playing frozen in time,
Blades of grass on tiny bare feet.
I look at you and you're looking at me.

Could you beam me up?
Give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it.
I'd probably just stare, happy just to be there, holding your face.
Beam me up,
Let me be lighter, I'm tired of being a fighter,
I think, a minute's enough.
Just beam me up.

Saw a black bird soaring in the sky,
Barely a breath I caught one last sight.
Tell me that was you, saying goodbye.
There are times I feel the shiver and cold,
It only happens when I'm on my own,
That's how you tell me, I'm not alone

Could you beam me up?
Give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it.
I'd probably just stare, happy just to be there, holding your face.
Beam me up,
Let me be lighter, I'm tired of being a fighter,
I think, a minute's enough,
Just beam me up.

In my head, I see your baby blues.
I hear your voice and I, I break in two and now there's
One of me, with you.

So when I need you can I send you a sign?
I'll burn a candle and turn off the lights.
I'll pick a star and watch you shine.

Just beam me up,
Give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it.
I'd probably just stare, happy just to be there, holding your face.
Beam me up,
Let me be lighter, I'm tired of being a fighter,
I think, a minute's enough.
Beam me up.
Beam me up.
Beam me up.
Could you beam me up?'

“The tattoo was for my brother. I miss him so much it hurts.” She sighed, setting her guitar aside and rubbing her eyes with her palms. “I just need to talk to him sometimes. He was so much smarter than me, better at making good decisions.”

I reached out a hand to rub her bare thigh comfortingly and felt her relax a bit beneath my touch. I was just grateful she wasn’t crying.

“Sometimes I just want to give up. Everything just feels like it’s dragging me down a massive hole and I’ll never get out.”

“What happened?” I asked. “With your brother, I mean.” I clarified.

She sighed, lifting her head to stare across the room. I knew she wasn’t looking at the dark red color of the walls. It was like she was watching a very bittersweet memory and the wall was the screen.

“Eight years ago my brother, Brandon, was diagnosed with cancer. We got lucky. It was in its early stages and after seven months of treatment and a couple of surgeries, he went into remission.” She stopped to wipe at her eyes and I continued tracing the pin up girl tattoo that adorned her thigh. “He was fine for a little over a year. But then he started getting sick again, a cold here, a stomach flu there. It was when he started coughing up blood again that we got scared. By the time he finally went back to his doctor to get it checked into, he was going into stage four. They gave him three months to live but he didn’t even last a month.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes again before glancing over and offering me a watery smile.

“I’m sorry, really. No one should have to go through that.” I sighed, giving her leg a squeeze before pulling my hand back.

“It should have been me.” She whispered, more tears welling from her eyes.

“Don’t think like that. Everyone comes and goes for a reason.”

“No. I’m the one that smokes, and drinks. My brother never touched a cigarette and he still never got to see 27.” She grumbled, shaking her head to herself. “Life is never fair.” She added.

“Roxanne-“

“I’m hungry. Let’s go to IHOP.” She said suddenly, standing up and offering me her hand.

ROXANNE’S POV

I had never told anyone about Brandon. I never even talked to Mark about it. It just hurt too much. But something about Jeremy just made me want to confide in him. It made no sense to me, but I knew I couldn’t keep letting myself give in to the strange impulses I was feeling around him.