12 Months//michael clifford short story

september

  It was 1 in the afternoon.

I was sitting on the counter in the tiny bathroom, my knees practically touching the walls, my wallet in hand. I had been looking through it for the past ten minutes, looking for something that I knew wasn't there.

The rest of my money was gone. 

I didn't have a lot left, but that wasn't the point. I didn't give Michael the permission to take it. Nobody else could have taken it. 

"Michael!" I call out, opening the door. The whole apartment was smoky. A mixture of incense and weed, and cigarettes. I fanned my hand in front of my red face. I hated to do this, especially when I was staying here. Michael asked nothing in return, and this felt so wrong.

"What?" He asks, coming out of the kitchen, a plate of pizza rolls in hand. "Want one?" 

I shook my head.

"Do you know what happened to my money?" I say it so quickly I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't understand.

"Yeah." He shrugs it off, as if it's no big deal. "I needed the money for cigerattes." 

"Are you kidding me?" I squint my eyes, trying to understand why he would think that would be okay." 

He finally looks me in the eyes, his eyes rimmed with red, and he notices how upset I look. Michael sighs.

"I'm so sorry, babe." He says, coming over. "I didn't think you would mind." He kisses me on the side of my head. "Besides, maybe you owe me. You know, for letting you stay all of this time."

"Yeah." I say, having nothing else to say. He was right. Was I going to yell at him? The money was already spent. "Just don't do it next time. Without asking. Please?" 

There would be no next time. I was broke. Completely.

He doesn't say anything, instead, he wraps his arms around my waist and leads me to the bedroom.

After, I was laying in bed, alone. Michael was done and gone. Probably with his friends. I don't know. He had gotten dressed, and said he would be back later.

I didn't even know if I wanted him to come back.

I just wanted to go home.

This all started out as a trip. It wasn't supposed to be anymore. I got caught up in Michael, I got caught up in everything. I spent way too many times sitting in on his shitty band practices, I spent way too much time making out with him on his tattered couch, and I spent way too much time sharing a cheap cigarettes with him on his balcony. This was a waste of time. I wanted to come home. 

But Michael had helped me. Given me a place to stay, keeping me company. Maybe I did owe him the money. 

There was no way I could go home now. 

Despite it being around 2 in the afternoon, I wrapped the comforter around my naked body and fell asleep.