I Would Want To See You One Last Time.

Piece 5

       Finally, back at home, the clock reads 11:32 p.m. I rub my eyes walking around the kitchen for something to drink. I barely got home from that outing with Noah and Dally. The car ride home was horrific since his brother was pretty buzzed. I can feel my legs straining from how tired they are and my eyelids feel heavy. 

      Reaching up to the cabinet to grab a cup and fill it up almost to the rim, I chug down the water. By the time I'm done, I'm coughing up all the second hand-shit I've inhaled today. Dally has shitty friends but I'm here for him. Noah is well-off but I'm there for him too. 

      With my second glass of water at hand, I begin to feel more and more drowsy. I was going to make some food but I wanted to sleep more than that. 

       I kick off my shoes while walking to my bed, leaving them scattered, spilling small drops of water as I set it on the nightstand, and lay on my bed. I slide my pants off and curl up in the fetal position with my eyes closed. I lay there for a while until I finally fell asleep. 

______________

         My sleep felt short as if I had taken just a small nap instead of a whole 9 hours of sleep. When I opened my eyes, the sun was already way out and above the horizon. The clock read 9:04 a.m. Last night was a long night, so I'm glad I got some sleep. I can still feel the grimy smoke in my throat, the soreness on the bottoms of my feet, and the exhaustion in my legs.

        I lay there, eyes slightly open and still in a fetal position, the same as last night. Like I hadn't moved at all.

        I don't move, I just zone out staring into my glowing curtains from the rising sun behind them. It's a quiet morning, every morning is quiet but this one feels extra quiet. I can hear nothing, but everything at the same time.

         As I lay there, I felt some sort of disappointment wave falls over me. It feels like a disappointment but not completely. I don't know what I'm feeling until I can feel the anger bubbling up in me. I can feel it tightening in my throat and pricking at the back of my eyes, with quick small breaths of air, I feel my nails digging into my skin and my jaw locked closed.

        I shot my eyes open completely now and swiftly got out of that position, now sitting upright in my bed. Sitting there, taking deep breaths trying to get that feeling off.

       After a minute, it's gone. It left slower than it came to me. I check the time again, worried if I was actually dreaming about just staring at that window for a few minutes, but when I check the time, it's only been a few minutes. All those feelings just happened within a few minutes of waking up.

       Standing up is when the tired feeling really hits me and I feel like laying back down for the rest of the day. Grabbing my phone and heading to the bathroom, I check the date. It's Sunday. Yesterday was Saturday. Today is a new day for me. I repeat things like this to myself to get the edge off. Stepping into the shower helps wake me up more.

       Nothing really happened last night, besides the usual. Dally wrapped Noah and I up into his problems again with his drug-addicted friends. I hate all of them, I blame each and every one of them for getting Dally into these things. The outing was going fine at first until the sun started to set. Dally is no better than his friends, but he's just not as bad. Yet, that is. He tends to self-implode at least once every couple of months and Noah and I help clean him up again. 

       It almost makes sense though, he grew up with a hard life. At least from what I know. His mom left when he was young and his dad is an alcoholic. He lives a long distance from the school and his brother has to drive him. The way Dally put it for his mom leaving was to go find herself and that she'd be back for him then they'd go out and get ice cream one last time. She left after one too many fights with their father. But the thing is, she never came back like she promised. She left when he was 10 years old and now he's 6 months away from being 17 and she still hasn't shown up, called, wrote, or had any sort of contact. His dad never left the couch ever since his wife left.

       That's the way Dally puts it at least. I've been over to his house a few times with Noah and it's always run down. His house is on the far side of town, over by a bunch of land and vacant homes. Theirs should be vacant too but his dad only makes enough money to pay for those bills, very minimal needs, and alcohol for himself. What's his job? He has none, he lives off of the government pay from a bad accident he had at work and took off on having no job, giving him more time to drink. 

       It gets tiring having to help him get back on his feet so many times, but Dally is a good friend of mine and I can't just let him do that to himself. Then I'd be the bad friend by just letting him try to dispose of himself.