"Thank you for loving me."
❀
No one would think that the Davy Wade would die, much less, kill himself.
He was the epitome of a good person. Some even thought he was the second coming of Christ. But when the shock and confusion of Davy's suicide co...
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t h e p r o b l e m w i t h d a v y
9
I drove Dawson home because he obviously wasn't able to maneuver a vehicle. He couldn't even walk up his driveway in a straight line, but he wasn't talkative which made me more comfortable. I drove his truck to my house and reminded myself to drive it back to him tomorrow.
A part of me felt relieved that I screamed out my feelings, but a part of me still feels like it's with Davy, in that damn casket. In fact, I think a part of everyone died that day and is also resting in that casket too. I clenched Dawson's keys in my hands as I walked through my front door. I was surprised that my parents weren't waiting up considering it's one in the morning. Yet, I was grateful they didn't.
I trudged up to my room, and felt the emptiness of my house. Honestly, the emptiness was there before Davy died. But it's more evident now. It was times like these where I feel bad for being rude to my parents, and feel guilty for always pushing people away. I wish I was happy, I wish I was outgoing and pure. I wish my family talked, I wish I had friends, I wish Davy never met me.
Of course I think about the possibility of if he would still be alive if he never met me. I've been trying to avoid that question, but at the weirdest times I am reminded. I always regret not pushing Davy away, even when he still was alive. I felt him sneaking in through my veins and remaining there- he's still in there. It terrified me but for some unexplainable reason I thought he would be the first person to stay. I thought he would be the first person who wanted to stay.
❄
It felt awkward when Dawson showed up at my house in the morning. I expected him to shuffle uncomfortably and ask for his keys. I pictured myself not being able to look him in the eyes and giving the keys to him. And that would be our conversation until the next time we have the guts to speak. Yet, even though Dawson isn't like Davy at all, he has similar qualities. Like surprising people when they expect different.
"Hey, get dressed," he immediately said when I opened my front door still in my pajamas.
"What? Why?" Was all I could get out.
"Also give me my keys, I hope you didn't do anything to it," he put his hands in his pockets ignoring my questions.
"You should say thank you, I drove you home when you were shit drunk! And — are we going somewhere? Do we have to move the candles from Davy's grave? Should I tell my —" Dawson sighed and pinched my nose quickly. It was something Mrs. Wade did to Davy and Dawson when they wouldn't pay attention.
"Stop asking questions, get dressed, and get your ass out here. I'll be in the car. If you take longer than 15 minutes I'm going to honk my horn until you come out," he flashed me a quick smile, and even closed my front door leaving me staring at the dull wood. I rubbed my face and sprinted upstairs, nervous that any minute Dawson would honk his horn and my neighbors would hate me more. I threw my hair in a ponytail, brushed my teeth, and quickly pulled on a random sweatshirt while I tripped into a pair of jeans. I ran downstairs with two minutes to spare and slipped into my boots. I grabbed my jacket while going out the door, and prayed that my parents wouldn't freak when they find me not inside the house.
