Читать книгу Song of the Fireflies - J. Redmerski A. - Страница 9

Two months ago…

I hadn’t seen nor heard from Bray in four years. As anyone would do, I went on with my life. I met a girl, Aline, at community college. She was beautiful. Dark hair. Bright blue eyes. Peach-colored skin. I loved her. But I wasn’t in love with her, even though I tried really hard to be. I tried so hard that for a while I actually believed it. But after two years of dating, I realized it wasn’t the kind of love I felt for Bray. And it never would be.

I heard from my friend Mitchell that Bray was engaged and in love with some guy in South Carolina. I felt like punching Mitchell for telling me this. I would have much rather gone on wondering about her, left clueless as to how she was carrying on with her life, instead of knowing the painful details.

I saw Bray in everything and everyone. Even in Aline—it wasn’t until much later that I realized how they favored each other. Pathetic, I know, but love isn’t always roses and rainbows and butterflies in your stomach. It’s equally cruel and painful and the world’s worst villain.

Aline dumped me. She knew I was in love with Bray. Not because I told her, but because women are smart like that. They have this weird fucking superpower that allows them to read a man’s emotions and see straight through his lies. I had told Aline about Bray, my “best friend” since childhood, and apparently that was all the backstory Aline needed to know more about me than I knew about myself. It wasn’t that I had tried to hide from Aline the fact that I was still in love with Bray, but that I had been trying to hide it from myself.

Aline was a great girl. She just wasn’t my girl….

It was one day in April nearly two months ago when the landscape of my life changed forever. The colors on that black-and-white painting were finally starting to fill in.

I woke up Saturday morning to Mitchell rummaging through the cabinets in my kitchen. He had been my roommate since last year. A lot about both of us had changed since we were kids. Thankfully, his mullet was one thing. Somewhere along the years he traded that hairstyle for a short, stylish cut with longer bangs that framed his face.

“What the hell are you doing, man?” I asked as I entered the kitchen wearing only my boxers. My current one-night stand, Jana, was still asleep in my bed, tangled in the sheets.

I opened the fridge and drank down half a bottle of water.

Mitchell was standing on a chair pushed against the front of the oven and reaching into the cabinet high above the stove light. “Looking for my weed.”

“Mitchell, man, seriously, you need to come down off that shit. Why would your weed be in the cabinet?”

“Come down off what shit? Weed?” His voice was muffled by the cabinet door.

“The meth.”

“Fucking A, bro, I’m not on meth. What the hell is your problem?”

I sat down at the kitchen table, stretched my arms above me and yawned. “You haven’t slept in three days,” I said. “Last night I heard you going through boxes in your room. For three hours.” I looked around the kitchen. “I haven’t seen this place this clean since I moved in, and I sure as hell didn’t clean it.”

Mitchell’s head finally came out of the cabinet, his bangs partially covering his dark brown eyes. He stepped down from the chair. His eyes were wide and feral and bloodshot, his pupils dilated. The corner of the left side of his mouth constantly twitched.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said. He started to sit down but began pacing instead.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, but you’re starting to worry me. That’s some bad shit, bro. A month more and you’ll be sucking guys off for a fix. It’s no better than crack.”

Mitchell’s face went slack. “Dude, that’s goin’ too far.”

I sipped my water. “Is it?” I asked and shook my head. “You know I’m far from Mr. Sober and Perfect, but I wouldn’t touch that stuff if you paid me. You remember what it did to Paul Matthews.”

Mitchell pushed air through his lips and rolled his eyes. “Paul got addicted. He was cooking the shit in his bathroom. You don’t see me doing that.”

“Not yet,” I said.

I heard footsteps behind me, and Mitchell looked up.

“Do I get to fuck her next?” he asked.

I shut my eyes briefly and sighed. “Don’t say stuff like that, Mitch.”

“Fuck you,” Jana said to him from behind me.

Her shoulder-length blonde hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail that hung disheveled against her back. She had sun-kissed brown skin and she was skinny, with delicate wrists I could easily lock my fingers around. But her wrists and her frame were the only delicate things about her, really.

She leaned around the back of my chair and kissed me on the mouth. I noticed right away she was dressed only in a T-shirt and her panties. Mitchell may have been out of line with that comment, but she wasn’t helping her case any, dressed like that in front of another guy.

Jana went to the fridge and opened it. I glimpsed her naked, tanned legs for only a moment. She was hot, but I was already regretting having slept with her.

“Whatever, man,” Mitchell said and went back to the cabinet.

I got up and left the kitchen. I hopped in the shower and Jana joined me. I wasn’t used to girls staying this late with me in the morning, certainly not inviting themselves into my shower. But I wasn’t about to kick her out, especially when the first thing she did was get on her knees and give me a blowjob. But for some reason, I couldn’t get off. I shut my eyes and gripped her head in both hands while she took the entire length of me into the back of her throat, but I couldn’t get off no matter how hard either of us tried.

I was frustrated. Jana, I think, was worried about her technique.

She gave up on that method and rose to her feet, pressing her breasts against my chest. The hot water was beginning to run cool as it streamed down on us.

She had this crafty look in her eyes.

“I want you both to fuck me,” she said and bit down gently on my chin.

Well, that definitely took me by surprise.

I don’t know what made me go along with it, other than thinking with the wrong head, but a few minutes later I was on my knees behind her on the couch while she went to work on Mitchell in front of her—and he apparently didn’t have the same problem I’d had with her minutes ago in the shower.

Despite sharing an apartment with a guy and both of us having our fair share of girls—girls who wanted a relationship as much as Mitchell or I did, I should add—threesomes definitely weren’t the norm. The girls either of us usually brought home weren’t as bold with their sexual desires as Jana was. And that was a good thing, really, because a threesome with another guy wasn’t something I could ever really get accustomed to. I spent more time and effort trying to avoid crossing swords than actually enjoying myself. In the heat of the moment, I never cared about that much, but when it was all over, I was a little disgusted with myself. Every single time. Unfortunately, disgust rarely stopped me from doing it again.

After Jana left and Mitchell went on another cleaning spree in the apartment, I got another shower before I headed out to help my mom move the last of her stuff into her new house. Mom had bad credit, and when the rental house I had grown up in started going to shit, I took out a loan to get her a new house on the other side of town.

Her new boyfriend, James, was loading boxes into the moving van when I pulled up.

He man-hugged me and started his usual spiel, asking how I was doing and reminding me how good I was to my mom. It really wasn’t necessary. I already liked him, and there wasn’t any need for him to still be trying so hard. But I guess he just hadn’t exhausted his efforts yet, and so I left it alone.

“This will be the last load,” my mom said and handed James a box to put in the van. Then she enveloped me in a hug. “How’s that new job going?”

“So far so good,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d like it as much as I do.”

“That’s great,” James said, emerging from the back of the moving van. “I did construction for ten years. It’s better than fast food or sitting behind a desk.” He was a few inches shorter than my mom, with graying salt-and-pepper hair sprinkled above his temples. Physically, James wasn’t my mom’s usual type, but I think his personality made up for that.

I nodded.

“OK, I need you two to be very careful with my china cabinet,” my mom said. “It was my mother’s, and—”

“We’ve got this,” James said, smiling over at me. “Don’t you worry.”

We followed my mom inside. She stayed close behind us every step of the way as we carried the massive china cabinet out the front door. Her face was as white as a sheet; she was worried we were going to drop it and shatter the glass doors along the top. We got it into the van and covered it with two thick blankets for extra cushioning. I stepped down from the ramp to see my mom staring out at the road. Her face was still white, but this time it seemed like she had seen a ghost. It took me a second longer than it should to turn around to see what she was looking at.

Bray stood at the end of the driveway, looking back at me.