Distance
Introduction.
There's a certain something special between us. I can't quite figure it out, but for some reason, I always go to him with my problems, and he comes to me with his. Even though neither of us can fix anything, it just makes us feel better.
We care too much about each other, and we're constantly worrying. I hate all his girlfriends, and he hates all my boyfriends. If someone makes me cry, he'll beat them up, and if he gets dumped, I'll pull out her ponytail.
He almost lives on my dad's couch. We watch movies together at 1:23 a.m. because neither of us can sleep. He'll sit through all my retarded chick flicks, and I'll suffer through those gory battle movies.
We fight like freaking animals. We scream at each other like New York prostitutes. He'll curse me out, and use such horrible words that I'll start crying. Then, of course, he'll feel so terribly that he'll pull me into his arms and apologize and tell me he didn't actually mean a single word.
I feel so safe with him, which is stupid, because he's on the fast track to nowhere. And it scares me that that's where I'd want to be, providing he's there to take care of me.
It's not love. Not the mushy, love-you-forever, kiss-me-in-the-rain, type of love. It's the bestest-best-friends, I'd-die-for-you, kind of love. Platonic relationship, with just the right amount of chemistry. Not friends with benefits, although we're not opposed to making out.
We're just the two of us, and that's all we need.
***
We were just two teenage punks from the Bay, young and in love.
Or so I'd thought.
Maria was everything I'd wanted in a girl. She was pretty, with sleek black hair and enourmous brown eyes.
We did everything together. First lines of coke, first drags on a joint, first shots of tequila at the bar on Friday night.
I wasn't her first though, but god, she was mine. What we did was too dirty to be called anything but fucking, and we didn't care.
I thought it would last forever.
***
"I'm sorry. This just isn't working out, Billie."
Two little words that told me everything I needed to know about where this conversation was going.
"Maria, come on. We can make this work. I'll try harder, I'll-"
"Put down that fucking guitar for a few seconds?" She demanded, her voice icy.
There was a short pause.
"Baby, I thought...I mean, we're in love."
I hated that it sounded like a question, hated the short, bitter laugh that trickled over the phone line.
"Bullshit. We both know that sex is all this relationship ever was. Good sex, sure. But I need more, Billie, and you can't give that to me."
"You can't know that."
"How would you know that, Billie? Take about five seconds to actually think about it, and you'll realize that all we did was party and fuck.
I couldn't even argue with that. Partying and fucking, that was all we did. But I thought she was happy. Fuck it, she always looked happy.
"Maria-"
"Goodbye, Billie."
And the line went dead.
***
A year and a half. A year and a fucking half, down the drain in less than five minutes.
I laid back against the couch cushions, and contemplated the chaos that was my room.
Clothes were strewn across the floor. Notebooks and scraps of paper with the scrawled beginnnings of songs littered every inmaginable surface, mingling with half-eaten sandwhiches and bowls of soggy cereal.
I sighed loudly and rubbed a hand over my eyes. Giving up entirely on my house, I groped for the phone and called the one person I could depend on in these situations.
***
"Billie! Oh my god, are you alright?!"
I didn't have a chance to answer her questions before Danica reached out and grabbed me, hugging me tight.
Danica's staples. A hug, and a confirmation that I was, indeed, alright.
"Yeah, Danie, I'm fine."
"Bullshit." She said with a grin, and dragged me into the house.
She was obviously ignoring the fact that it was nearly midnight, and her parents were obviously asleep.
"We'll go up to my room, have something to eat, jam a little, or watch some television, whatever."
"Sounds awesome." I replied in a whisper, letting her drag me up the stairs.
She babbled all the way up to her room. Whether it was because she was nervous about getting caught, trying to distract me, or just trying to fill the silence, I didn't know. But I was grateful all the same.
I dropped onto her bed with a thump and laid back against the pillows. Danica leapt up and curled herself up next to me, laying her head on my chest and sliding her hands around my hips in an embrace that was entirely familiar.
"What do you wanna watch?" She asked as he fiddled with the remote.
"I dunno..." I muttered, preoccupied with the warmth of her body. She tugged the blanket up over us.
I noticed that they were both still in their jeans and Chucks, but I knew Danica, and she had never cared.
"I know there's a real good documentary on Vh1." She suggested.
"What band?"
She smiled.
"Does it even matter? The stories all end the same."
"Happily ever after?"
She made a soft sound of dissatisfaction in her throat.
"Haven't you figured it out by now, Billie?" She teased. "Happily ever after doesn't exist."
***
We watched the documentaries on AC/DC, Guns N Roses and Poison, then flipped over to watch music videos.
I glanced down at Danica, and was struck by how different she looked. It was as if I'd never really looked at her. Her mascara was smudged, her hair was a mess. Her skin was gorgeous and pale in the flickering light of the television. Her eyes lasered up at me, as I watched her. I had the distinct feeling that she could see right through me, and I wasn't quite sure that she would like what she saw.
"What are you looking at?" She asked jokingly.
"Go to sleep." I said quietly, then pulled her close.
She flicked off the television, and we lay there, warm and snug in the semi-darkness, listening to the sound of the street. I could see her poster of Kurt Cobain half-illuminated by the streetlights.
"Billie?"
"Hmm?"
"We're...we're friends, right?"
There was something in her question that made me pause; something serious was hidden within it, but I was just too tired to puzzle it out.
"Of course we are, Danie. You know that."
She was silent, and her grip on me tightened ever so slightly. I could hear her heartbeat in the silence.
It was an impulse. I should have been smarter than to do it. Looking back, that was where it all began. That one, single motion that I was too stupid to resist.
I leaned down and swiftly placed a gently kiss on her forehead.
It was beautiful, and tender, and she smiled. Then she shifted a little against me, and fell asleep.
That was where it all began.
We care too much about each other, and we're constantly worrying. I hate all his girlfriends, and he hates all my boyfriends. If someone makes me cry, he'll beat them up, and if he gets dumped, I'll pull out her ponytail.
He almost lives on my dad's couch. We watch movies together at 1:23 a.m. because neither of us can sleep. He'll sit through all my retarded chick flicks, and I'll suffer through those gory battle movies.
We fight like freaking animals. We scream at each other like New York prostitutes. He'll curse me out, and use such horrible words that I'll start crying. Then, of course, he'll feel so terribly that he'll pull me into his arms and apologize and tell me he didn't actually mean a single word.
I feel so safe with him, which is stupid, because he's on the fast track to nowhere. And it scares me that that's where I'd want to be, providing he's there to take care of me.
It's not love. Not the mushy, love-you-forever, kiss-me-in-the-rain, type of love. It's the bestest-best-friends, I'd-die-for-you, kind of love. Platonic relationship, with just the right amount of chemistry. Not friends with benefits, although we're not opposed to making out.
We're just the two of us, and that's all we need.
***
We were just two teenage punks from the Bay, young and in love.
Or so I'd thought.
Maria was everything I'd wanted in a girl. She was pretty, with sleek black hair and enourmous brown eyes.
We did everything together. First lines of coke, first drags on a joint, first shots of tequila at the bar on Friday night.
I wasn't her first though, but god, she was mine. What we did was too dirty to be called anything but fucking, and we didn't care.
I thought it would last forever.
***
"I'm sorry. This just isn't working out, Billie."
Two little words that told me everything I needed to know about where this conversation was going.
"Maria, come on. We can make this work. I'll try harder, I'll-"
"Put down that fucking guitar for a few seconds?" She demanded, her voice icy.
There was a short pause.
"Baby, I thought...I mean, we're in love."
I hated that it sounded like a question, hated the short, bitter laugh that trickled over the phone line.
"Bullshit. We both know that sex is all this relationship ever was. Good sex, sure. But I need more, Billie, and you can't give that to me."
"You can't know that."
"How would you know that, Billie? Take about five seconds to actually think about it, and you'll realize that all we did was party and fuck.
I couldn't even argue with that. Partying and fucking, that was all we did. But I thought she was happy. Fuck it, she always looked happy.
"Maria-"
"Goodbye, Billie."
And the line went dead.
***
A year and a half. A year and a fucking half, down the drain in less than five minutes.
I laid back against the couch cushions, and contemplated the chaos that was my room.
Clothes were strewn across the floor. Notebooks and scraps of paper with the scrawled beginnnings of songs littered every inmaginable surface, mingling with half-eaten sandwhiches and bowls of soggy cereal.
I sighed loudly and rubbed a hand over my eyes. Giving up entirely on my house, I groped for the phone and called the one person I could depend on in these situations.
***
"Billie! Oh my god, are you alright?!"
I didn't have a chance to answer her questions before Danica reached out and grabbed me, hugging me tight.
Danica's staples. A hug, and a confirmation that I was, indeed, alright.
"Yeah, Danie, I'm fine."
"Bullshit." She said with a grin, and dragged me into the house.
She was obviously ignoring the fact that it was nearly midnight, and her parents were obviously asleep.
"We'll go up to my room, have something to eat, jam a little, or watch some television, whatever."
"Sounds awesome." I replied in a whisper, letting her drag me up the stairs.
She babbled all the way up to her room. Whether it was because she was nervous about getting caught, trying to distract me, or just trying to fill the silence, I didn't know. But I was grateful all the same.
I dropped onto her bed with a thump and laid back against the pillows. Danica leapt up and curled herself up next to me, laying her head on my chest and sliding her hands around my hips in an embrace that was entirely familiar.
"What do you wanna watch?" She asked as he fiddled with the remote.
"I dunno..." I muttered, preoccupied with the warmth of her body. She tugged the blanket up over us.
I noticed that they were both still in their jeans and Chucks, but I knew Danica, and she had never cared.
"I know there's a real good documentary on Vh1." She suggested.
"What band?"
She smiled.
"Does it even matter? The stories all end the same."
"Happily ever after?"
She made a soft sound of dissatisfaction in her throat.
"Haven't you figured it out by now, Billie?" She teased. "Happily ever after doesn't exist."
***
We watched the documentaries on AC/DC, Guns N Roses and Poison, then flipped over to watch music videos.
I glanced down at Danica, and was struck by how different she looked. It was as if I'd never really looked at her. Her mascara was smudged, her hair was a mess. Her skin was gorgeous and pale in the flickering light of the television. Her eyes lasered up at me, as I watched her. I had the distinct feeling that she could see right through me, and I wasn't quite sure that she would like what she saw.
"What are you looking at?" She asked jokingly.
"Go to sleep." I said quietly, then pulled her close.
She flicked off the television, and we lay there, warm and snug in the semi-darkness, listening to the sound of the street. I could see her poster of Kurt Cobain half-illuminated by the streetlights.
"Billie?"
"Hmm?"
"We're...we're friends, right?"
There was something in her question that made me pause; something serious was hidden within it, but I was just too tired to puzzle it out.
"Of course we are, Danie. You know that."
She was silent, and her grip on me tightened ever so slightly. I could hear her heartbeat in the silence.
It was an impulse. I should have been smarter than to do it. Looking back, that was where it all began. That one, single motion that I was too stupid to resist.
I leaned down and swiftly placed a gently kiss on her forehead.
It was beautiful, and tender, and she smiled. Then she shifted a little against me, and fell asleep.
That was where it all began.