Broken Things

As something that sounded vaguely like my name tumbled from his lips, I considered my options. My first instinct was to turn around and walk away, slamming the door shut in my wake. Even as this thought filled my mind, my feet were glued in place and I was frustrated by my inability to just do something.

His eyes were bright green, the way they always got when he spent a decent amount of time in sunlight. He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and those god-awful boots I cringed at every time I saw a photo of him wearing them show up randomly on the internet. In a red flannel buttoned down much too low for my comfort, I hated that my inability to move was part shock, part attraction.

“When you said you were going to be in town, I didn’t realize you meant today.”

I turned to face Declan who had suddenly appeared behind me, an uncomfortable expression on his face. He bit down on his lip, his eyes shifting between the two of us as if he were watching a tennis match. It was obvious how panicked he was, and I was suddenly able to compose myself and step out of the doorway, back into the safety of the apartment.

“Thought I’d surprise you,” Harry managed to mumble, his voice deeper than the last time we’d spoken. I tried to ignore it.

“Why don’t we talk about this outside, mate,” Declan suggested as his eyes flashed to where I was stood awkwardly behind him. I was in such a state of disbelief that I could only manage to fold my arms crossly over my chest, brows furrowed as I tried to come up with a way to disappear.

Harry looked over to me one final time before nodding in agreement. He looked just as dazed as I felt as he took a step back and allowed Declan to join him on our patio, shutting the door firmly behind him.

I let out a breath of air I hadn’t noticed I was holding.

My fists clenched at my sides as I regained my ability to move. With my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands, it was much easier to hold back the tears that were beginning to pool in my eyes from the absolute astonishment and anger I felt at seeing him again after four years of doing without.

There was an overwhelming urge to punch something that was welling up in my muscles, but I had never really been the violent type. So instead, I sat down on the couch, pulled a pillow up to my mouth, and let out a scream before biting down on it. My eyes fell shut and I forced in steadying breaths, knowing I had to get it together, if only for a few brief moments, so I could figure out what the hell I was supposed to do with Declan now that he was on our doorstep.

My feelings on the subject were indistinguishable, masked by the horror I felt at opening that door to face a ghost from my past, one that I had tried so desperately to get over. Had it not been enough that his face haunted me everywhere I went from the magazine racks or entertainment television? Now he had to show up here, too?

I’d moved to California to start fresh.

With this in mind, I reached for the remote to the television and flicked it on. I was working on acting nonchalant when the door was pushed open and Declan poked his head in. He winced when my eyes met his, stepping inside carefully. Harry appeared a moment later beside him, eyeing me curiously. He attempted a smile and my anger surged.

“I hadn’t gotten around to telling Harry about your move yet,” Declan finally said, rubbing the back of his head anxiously. “He has us down for lunch reservations.”

My face must not have registered much, at least not to Harry. Declan was avoiding my gaze, eyes downcast as he spoke. Harry, however, was still watching me with that easy-going expression, completely put together while I felt as if I might explode.

“Would you like to join us, Sawyer?” he finally addressed me, hands clasped together behind his back.

Declan’s eyes closed after hearing Harry speak, knowing full well he was standing beside a man who was stepping onto a landmine.

There were so many things I could have said, but I settled for the first one that came to mind.

“Fuck off.”

Harry blinked. Declan turned slightly to the side and whispered an apology in his direction, but he held up a hand to him.

“S’alright. I deserved it.”

“You deserve a hell of a lot more than that, but I can’t stand to be in this room any longer,” I spat, clicking off the television as I stood to make my way to the hallway.

I didn’t bother to give Declan a passing glance. I knew he was suddenly put in an awkward position between his two best mates, but the fact that we’d had plans for breakfast that he dropped the moment Harry showed up was infuriating to me.

“C’mon, Sawyer. I was about to take you out anyway. There’s nothing in the apartment to eat,” he called after me just as I paused in the doorframe.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t be like this.”

I arched a brow. “You’re joking, right?”

The words hit him suddenly, as if he’d remembered all the hell I’d been through in the last few years. He fell silent with a soft sigh.

“Same as ever,” I heard Harry chuckle quietly.

It was a comment on my theatrics that I didn’t appreciate, partially because I was already enraged with him, but mostly because my behavior toward him was absolutely founded.

“You,” I seethed, gaze narrowed. “You are not allowed to speak to me.”

“You look good, Sawyer,” he responded confidently, staring back at me firmly.

I was so beyond a response, that it was all I could do to turn to Declan. “Get him out of here.”

He wasted no time in following my orders, pulling open the door and gesturing for Harry to follow him out. He did so hesitantly, as if he had more he wanted to say but knew it would only push me over the edge further.

I turned and stormed down the hallway to my bedroom before the front door had even shut.

In my bedroom, I was forced to face the fact that I was dressed to go out, hungover, furious, starving, and completely alone. The silence in the house was deafening, save for the low hum of the air conditioner.

It only took me a few moments to realize I couldn’t lie in bed all day, replaying the scene in my mind. It would only make me more angry and if what Declan had told me was true, I’d need to pick up something to eat.

With a deep sigh, I forced myself up and grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder before heading to the front door. I was searching in my iPhone for a place to eat as I bounded down the stairs as quickly as possible. Pushing open the front gate to the street, I slipped on a pair of sunglasses and let Siri lead the way.

The fresh air was definitely helping, despite the strong scent of nearby garbage that permeated the area. I scanned the street as I walked, curiously taking in the nearby apartment complexes and the people near or around them. A few boys were skateboarding on the opposite side of the street. In the distance, a man was unloading a dog from his car.

It was the strong feeling of normalcy that calmed my mind as I walked, the California sun warming my skin as I pushed through the heat. I still felt a surge of adrenaline from earlier, but I was quickly coming down from my high as I pushed the button for the crosswalk, taking a turn onto Laurel Canyon Boulevard.

When the signal changed for the crosswalk, I started across the street. It was too early for me to process what had just happened in the apartment, but I still had the image of Harry standing in the living room in my mind, completely at ease as he studied me across the room.

It was offputting, to say the least. For a boy who hadn’t said a word to me in four years, he had quite a bit of nerve to invite me to lunch.

Before I had much time to dwell on my absolute shit luck, I arrived at the Starbucks I’d typed in the address to. Pulling open the door, I couldn’t help but smile at the waft of cool air that instantly engulfed me as I stepped in. The walk here hadn’t been half-bad, and I knew I’d have to get used to the dry heat of the day, especially with Declan’s work schedule. The thought crossed my mind to buy a bike.

Living in England for seven years, I wasn’t desperate enough yet to attempt Starbucks’ shit tea. Instead, I opted for an iced coffee and hoped there would be enough caffiene in it to last me the day. Between that and the blueberry muffin I’d ordered, I hoped to cure my hangover enough to make it to the grocery store, and perhaps even a Cyclery. With the morning’s debacle, it seemed appropriate for me to attempt some sort of productivity.

I thanked the barista who handed me my drink and pushed back out onto the sidewalk, confidently crossing the street with the intents of doing a bit of shopping at Ralph’s. I couldn’t be sure what Declan meant by “no food in the house”, but I think it was safe to assume that he was living off of cold hot dogs and Ramen noodles, so I grabbed a cart and got to work.

It was moments like these that I really began to miss my mum.

It’s so funny how those things would hit me abruptly, like a punch to the gut. I had spent one moment browsing produce and the next I was remembering standing beside her and arguing whether or not the bananas were too overripe to buy. And that lead to memories of the Banana Bake Off of 2013, during which we looked up every recipe that included bananas we could think of in an attempt to eat them before they went bad.

It hadn’t mattered.

It all went to waste in our refrigerator a day and a half later. She slept there serenely in the bed at the hospital as I held to her hand, watching the peaks on the machine rise and fall with every breath she took, and all I could think about were those damn rotting bananas.

So I opted for oranges, placing a few in the cart before moving on to eye the packages of strawberries. I caught myself wondering whether or not Declan would eat salad before I decided he’d eat whatever I damn well put in front of him and grabbed a head of lettuce.

It went on like this for an hour and a half before I finally made it to the check out lanes. The cart was filled to the brim with food items and in an attempt to give myself something to think about, I made a game of guessing what my total would be.

$113.53.

Declan owed me big.

It was then that I realized I had seven bags of groceries and no discernable way to get them home.

Pulling out my phone, I glanced at the time. It had been two and a half hours since Declan and Harry went to lunch, and if luck was on my side, Declan would hopefully be back home. It was with this in mind, that I called him. He picked up on the fourth ring.

“What’s up?”

“Are you home yet?”

“Just got back. Why?”

“I bought some groceries, but I just now realized I can’t very well walk them all home on my own. Can you pick me up?”

He sighed on the other end of the line before assuring me he’d be there in five minutes.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket, pushing the cart in the direction of the automatic doors. Awkwardly, I shifted my weight from one foot to another as I kept an eye out for his silver Nissan Altima.

I was met with a black Range Rover.

Unamused, I crossed my arms over my chest, eyes narrowing as Harry pulled up to the curb, sans Declan.

“Dec got tied up,” he explained as he rounded the front of his car, making a grab for the grocery bags.

“How the hell did he get tied up in the four minutes since I called him?”

He was pulling open the back door, but still managed to glance over his shoulder at me before setting down a few of the bags on the back seat. There was a peculiar sort of expression on his face, the kind I’d spent months recieving back home, and it suddenly struck me that whatever excuse Harry was about to give me was just that. Declan had spilled it all to him, or at the very least, the worst parts of it, and he was hiding from me out of guilt.

The anger was back.

My face must have given me away. I’d figured it out before Harry’d had the time to mutter any sort of explanation.

“Sawyer...” he began, but I was thrusting the rest of my bags in his direction before he could say anything else.

“Take those back to the apartment. I’m walking.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re not in a position to be speaking to me right now.”

“Get in the car, Sawyer.”

He’d shut the back door and was pulling open the passenger side, but I was already booking it toward the street. Behind me, I could hear him mumbling a string of obscenities, but I didn’t slow my pace.

I didn’t make it far before he was back.

“Sawyer, please get in the car.”

I ignored him as he pulled up beside me, his Range Rover crawling on the street in an attempt to stay nearby. Behind him, cars were honking, but he seemed unbothered by it, keeping his eyes on me as I pointedly ignored him.

“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what else to say–“

I cut him off, stopping in my tracks to glare at him.

“Are you serious? You’re doing this right now?”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. He looked exasperated, like he knew he was getting no where but couldn’t help himself from trying.

I was becoming more furious by the moment.

“Leave,” I demanded.

For once, he listened.