Misplaced Words

I knew we would fall back into this pattern of drinking together, especially now that we’re grieving and let's face it, afraid.

“How about this one?” Vic asks, pulling a short, chubby brown bottle out from his mini-fridge.

I lean my head against his bed frame and sigh, “I don’t know, Vic,” I laugh, “they all look the same to me-”

He mock gasps, “How could you say such a thing?”

He plants himself next to me on the floor and pops open the bottle. I nudge him in the ribs and snatch it from his hands.

“Oh, shut up.” I take a big whiff of it before gagging, “this has got to be something strong. Where do you get your stuff anyway?”

“I have my ways,” he smirks.

I roll my eyes and take a sip, surprised by how great the taste is despite the smell. Then again, it could be that I’m just so used to drinks like this. Day after day, I find myself back in this room. It’s a routine now. My body knows that by noon I should be up and out of my room, making my way to his. Even after about three weeks now, I’m nowhere near getting tired of this. I made the right move by visiting Vic that day. I knew I could cheer him up if I really tried. We still find ourselves crying at least twice a day now, but things are…getting better. We really do need each other, because it’s not like anyone else is looking out for us.

It’s partly my fault. After a week of going over to Vic’s room, I told Lizzy that she didn’t need to check on me anymore. Besides her, I didn’t really see much of the faces of our group, being that the only reason I step out of my door is to come here. Anyway, I told her we were getting along fine and would call her if anything. She was hesitant; she said she knew the kind of trouble we could get ourselves into. I admit, she’s right; maybe we did need a little supervision at times, but she ended up backing off anyway. She texts me from here to there, letting me know that she’s here if anything, I reply with an ‘of course, Lizzy, thanks.’ Still, I rely on the nights I get to lay in Vic’s warm embrace, wiping his tears away whenever needed. The moments when he gazes at me with that longing look just before I leave for the night. ‘Please, not yet,’ he’d tell me.

How could I leave him like that? Every single time. Of course I’ll stay longer. It’s like he hypnotizes me or something, doesn’t let me leave his sight, and I have no problem with that. I know it’s bad. We shouldn’t behave like this. I have tried to convince myself that I didn’t need this; I didn’t need to burn my insides and intoxicate myself in order to get by. He’s got me though. If I’m going to be here with him, I’m going to give in to his habits.

How could I do this to her? To Naomi? My best friend. Even though he was mine first, she did end up with him. Nonetheless, he chose her. She would have given the world for him. Yet here I am, crawling into his bed, ready for another sleepless night. Later I’d skip over to my room before the sun comes up so I won’t get caught, only to come right back a few hours later. Shoot, I might as well sleep here if I could. It’s not like Vic hasn’t tried convincing me so many times. ‘I can’t afford a strike, sorry.’ Meanwhile, I’m mentally dragging myself out of the room to make sure I don’t stay.

Sorry, Naomi. She knows I’ve tried, so many times. I’ve told her about the plenty of times. I’ve counted on Vic when I was having a hard time, whether it was with school, family, the previous two boys I’ve dated, etc. He was always there for me. So I guess that was one of the first things that opened her eyes to him, besides, all the other great aspects to him of course. That, and by me being away, she had him all to herself. How fortunate she was. Was.

“Open,” Vic says, knocking me out of my mental rant.

“What?”

“I want you to taste something, open up.” He nudges my chin to tilt my head back and drops a few small, round hard things in my mouth. I feel around with my tongue and taste the fruitiness it offers. “Now try this.”

He hands me the drink and I mix it with the candies, tasting a tangy yet spicy burst in my mouth.

“Wow,” I say, wiping my mouth, “”This tastes awesome, where’d you learn this from?

“Some party,” he shrugs.

“Hm.” I nibble on his neck and giggle, “I’m tired.”

“Ugh, you suck. We haven’t even gotten to the part where you throw up yet!”

“Jerk,” I shout, punching him in the arm.

What a mistake. He pins me to the floor and starts jabbing me playfully at my sides, sending me in fits of laughter. It reminds me of the times we’d play fight over a year ago, when I’d try and distract him from being upset about Lizzy. It did distract him, but not in a good way.

“Get off!” I laughed, regretting the moment my fist hits his arm.

“Fine,” he says, pushing his lips onto mine.

How many times have we ended up like this? All my anxieties are gone, and I let go, and feel so happy, relieved, and…guilty. I wonder how many times they ended up in this position, laughing one second, kissing the next. I lightly push his chest away, breaking the kiss.

“What’s…” he trails off, searching my face.

“I um, I just-I need some rest, Vic,” I say trying to sit up.

“Oh, I’m sorry Ally; I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything-”

“No, it’s not you,” I say, my eyes tearing up.

He narrows his eyes at me, and then gets it. He wraps his arm around me and I grab his shirt, suddenly bursting into tears, soaking it through. He rubs my back, hushing me and telling me things will get better. Stay strong, he tells me. I can feel the wetness from his face against mine. We’re such a mess right now. I look up at him and smile, glad that we at least have each other to be a wreck around. He gets me, and I get him.

Maybe Naomi would be happy about this, someway, somehow. I’m taking up the responsibility of making Vic feel grounded, happy, like he can hold on to something again. Hopefully he feels the same way.