Bottle Rockets

EIGHT - Hey, Tanger. I'm here. It's okay, don't worry.

He called at two in the morning.

Three times.

Missed call - Tanger 2:00 AM

Again.

Missed call - Tanger 2:02 AM

Again.

Missed call - Tanger 2:03 AM

Then he left a voice mail.

"I fuuuucked uuuup, Ty. I-I-I....Oh, god." He was sobbing. He was drunk.

It woke Tyler up. The first two were dreams. She woke up when the second one nearly ended and lingered before she picked up her phone to look. She wanted to wait and see if this was just a booty call or something. She saw Tanger's contact image on her screen, her heart leaping into her throat. Why is he calling me at two a.m?

When she heard the voicemail, she called him back.

"Tanger, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Obnoxious drunken weeping met her ears. He tried and tried to get his words out but sobs continued to stop him.

"Alright, Tanger. Just take a deep breath. Calm down, everything's going to be okay."

She listened as he sucked in and breathed out. A few more agonizing moments passed before he attempted to speak again. He was successful this time.

"S-she d-dumped me, T-Ty. S-she kicked m-me out and d-dumped me." Another choked sob.

Tanger's girlfriend dumped him. Tanger's girlfriend threw him out of the house and ended their relationship. But Tyler was confused. Shouldn't he be celebrating instead of crying about it? He was free from the evil bitch's suffocating grip.

"How long ago was this?" She glanced at the clock. 2:10.

Tanger coughed, "Uh.....I'unno, like, ten..."

"Fuck, Tanger. Have you been drinking all night? Where are you? Let me come and get you. You shouldn't drive home. You can stay over at my house, okay?" Tyler crawled out of bed and held the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She tugged on some pants and zipped on a Penguins' hoodie. She tied her hair into a messy bun.

And that's when she realized Tanger was speaking in sloppy French.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Frenchie. This is America. English, please. Tell me where you are, Tangs. I'll come pick you up," She climbed down the stairs of her apartment. She scrambled into her car as Tanger fed her the name of the bar he was at. She mapquested it.

He was sitting on the curb, outside of the bar, head between his knees. His fingers played with the laces on his shoes.

Tyler parked and jogged towards Tanger's form, squatting down beside him. She placed a tender hand on his back and felt his body shudder from his sobs.

"Hey, Tanger. I'm here. It's okay, don't worry. Sh..." She stroked his back before gathering him up in her arms. She sat beside him on the curb, holding him to her chest and rocking him back and forth.

"Alright. Let's get home, okay? Let's get you to bed so we can deal with this in the morning. Does that sound alright?"

He nodded without sound. Well, except for another strangled cry of pain.

"Oh, boy..." Tyler sighed. She wrapped her hands around his biceps and pulled him to his feet. He stumbled forwards then backwards then finally into Tyler's body. She threw his arm around her shoulders and slipped her own arm around his waist, carrying him to her car.

Throughout the whole ride home, Tyler's hand never left Tanger's knee. Halfway home, his hand slipped around hers, fingers squeezing tight. He never looked away from the window, though.

When Tyler pulled him into her house, he fell onto the couch and placed his face in his hands.

"I fucked up, Ty. I'm such a fuck up. I can't do anything right," He whimpered.

"That's not true, Tanger. You know that's not true," She murmured as she sat beside him, her leg brushing his.

"Oh, God..." He choked and let out another cry. His arms engulfed Tyler's frame and he pulled her into him. He buried his face in her neck.

Tyler's fingers tangled themselves in his hair as she held him to her chest.