by Niki Hager
"I know. I know it was stupid! I didn't even mean it, I swear. I'm just drunk!"
"I know you didn't mean it like that." His eyes turn sad. "And it's for that reason you're lucky I'm me and knew so. But is also the reason you could've screwed up everything!"
"What do you mean?"
"If you would have tried to kiss me … hmm, let’s say two years ago or so, things would be going a lot different right about now."
"Why?"
"I might have kissed you back."
"Oh." My response is lackluster, but it's all I can manage.
"Rigbee, I have always cared for you. You know that, okay. But I didn't always know what I felt for you was so brotherly. There was a point when I thought about it. A lot. I would think to myself what if I had feelings for you."
"Enz, I—"
"No. Stop. Hear me out first. I never gave you any reason to suspect otherwise because I never even came close to doing anything about it. But, sometimes I … I wondered why? Why did I care so much about a random girl I had only recently met? Why the hell would I care whether or not she had anxiety attacks, or whatever? I didn't' know what it was drawing me to you initially. Once we became friends there were obvious reasons why I cared, you became my best friend. But a few years later I couldn't get the thought out of my head. Why did I care at first? I thought it had to be because I had feelings for you. I didn't have any other explanation."
"You never said anything."
"I know. I didn't want to ruin what we had." He folds his arms and grunts at the irony. "I let it go a long time ago. I met Marty and then I knew I was wrong."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. The way I felt about her and the way I felt about you were—are—too different. Then I saw how happy you were with Roman. I thought I would be jealous, but I wasn't. I felt … proud almost. I was happy for you."
"So now we're good?" I shrug and give him my most innocent cute face.
"Yeah, were good, Bee. But let me say, if what you did would have happened before, back when I was confused, I'm not so sure I could have kept being your friend. Let alone best friend. Do you understand the significance of the situation now?"
After a few more minutes of uncomfortable awkwardness, Enz and I had drank enough of our big gulps to basically forget anything weird happened.
"We're nothing like all of the movies we watch."
"No, we're definitely not." He chuckles under his breath.
"We are way better!" I exclaim.
"I don't know about all that," he says as he rolls his eyes.
"For real, we are. We broke the golden rule!"
"What rule?" he asks while looking genuinely confused.
"The rule about not being able to go back to the way things were," I remind him.
"Oh, that one. It's more like we disproved the theory. And I don't think we count anyway. We didn't let it get far enough. If we were in fact a movie, we would be one boring ass B-movie."
"Ha! A Bee-movie. Get it? Because I'm Bee and it's a movie about me!" I squeal in excitement.
I laugh at the thought, and Enz laughs at how excited I got before we start talking to ourselves like we're the voice over for our own movie, complete with narration and soundtrack. We commentate ourselves the entire time we walk around the mall. People look at us like we we're nuts.
"So one last thing and I will never bring the subject up again. Whoops, I mean, Enzo allows Rigbee one last question before totally forgetting about the whole situation," I say the last part in a deep voice, pretending I'm a man narrator. I don't know why.
"Shoot."
"Why did you stay friends with me? Back when you thought you had feelings for me? I mean, I'm totally glad you did, but was it because you thought I needed your help? As if I couldn't take care of myself or something?"
"No," he says only.
I wait but it's like pulling teeth trying to get his answer.
"Well, then why?"
He ignores me for a long while. I think he is thinking about how to answer the question.
"I guess the only way I can think to answer you is by saying persistence beats resistance."
"Okay?" I stretch out the word letting him know I don't get what he's making a big deal about. "And?"
"I'm just embarrassed at how I've been handling the whole Marty thing. I'm not being persistent at all. I'm definitely being resistant."
"Yes, you have been. You should do something about that."
"I think I'm going to."
"It's about goddamn time!" I throw my hands up in an exhausted relief.
Persistence VS Passive Aggressive Bitch
Stay Away-Rooney
Rigbee
"Persistence is better than resistance, persistence is better than resistance," I chant to myself as I walk up to the door of The Coney.
After our drunken mall talk I realized how hard his phrase struck. Along with the weight of a boulder still sitting in the bottom of my gut, it stuck with me. I was a hypocrite to think Enzo was the only one who needed to do some damage control. I am ready to give everything I've got into fixing our relationship.
I strut through the glass doors with purpose but my feet fumble when I see a girl I recognize from high school sitting at our table. I assume she must be with Lyle. A date. Good for him, but why did he have to choose her. He's already admitted to having an evil ex and how he would never go through the same thing again.
Shana was horrible to me. One of my many tormentors. A mean girl, relentlessly making me miserable every chance she got. I really hope she has grown up else I'll have to have a chat with Lyle. This is our usual Friday night coffee with the crew. Roman, Lyle, Thomas, Lawrence, Dirks, Malik, Willow, and I all show up almost every time. There are a few stragglers here and there, and sometimes even Enz, but for the most part it's the same, and I like the familiarity. I can't wait until Enzo hears about this. He will flip. He knows her and what she was like.
Regardless of our new table guest, it's now or never so I move toward our table. Lyle looks at me and then back. He leans in to ask Shana how she came to meet Roman. He makes his voice extra loud so I would hear him clearly.
Concerned and curious faces stare at me when they all slowly realize I'm standing here. The expressions my friends try to hide tell me all I need to know. She did not come with Lyle. My brain isn't ready to comprehend what is happening. A heavy haze washes over me, acting as my body's natural defense mechanism. My movements rival molasses as I slide out a chair opposite of Roman and Shana and slowly sit down. My senses are numb.
Pretending everything is as normal as any other night, I sit quiet and wide-eyed and listen to the small talk.
I myself am incapable of speaking. Once my brain comes to terms with the surreal situation maybe I'll be able to force out a full sentence or two.
If his intention was to give me the biggest slap in the face he had in his hand, he succeeded. That, however, is the lesser of the two evils. It hurts even worse to think he genuinely wanted to bring her with him tonight.
You know the feeling you get when you've swam too deep under water? Time passes slower as you hold your breath. Everything is heavy and you wait for the sweet relief that comes as you make your way to the top of this nightmare. Except the surface is so far away you don't know if you will ever make it. You start to panic and think that the air currently resting in your lungs will not be enough to hold you over, so you give in. You relax your body and float, giving yourself over to the water completely and let it decide your fate. Just when you think you can't possibly go any longer the stinging break of the outside air hits your face. The sharp waves crash against your ears and the sun's warmth heats your skin, screaming beautiful victory as you open your mouth and suck in as much air as your lungs will take in a single breath. The victory is short lived as your body regains feeling. Your senses are overwhelmed and running on high. The burning is everywhere and it won't stop. Every muscle shakes and every bone aches. Your thankfulness for being alive is ove
rpowered by pain. That's what sitting here feels like.
"Isn't that right, Rigbee?"
"Huh?"
"See, even now your quirks astound me." She laughs at the state of my daydreaming self. "How cute, you're still so dorky. I love it."
No, she doesn't. My boyfriend may be fooled, but I can read between your lines of condescension you evil little twat.
"I was talking about how much fun we had in high school together."
"Right. Fun," I drawl out sarcastically, accidentally rolling my eyes.
"Remember the one time when we convinced you we were reading a different book in English class? Yeah, so then you spent the whole night before the test reading the wrong book. So hilarious"
The one she's referring to actually wasn't so bad. Sure, I was irritated at the time, but I ended up really liking the book. The point, though, is it was not funny and we were not friends, no matter how Shana Bane spins her storyweb of lies.
"Yep, I remember. Hilarious," I reply with as much indifference as possible, keeping my face completely neutral.
"Classic," she squeals before she segues the conversation into a new topic.
Out of pure pride, or maybe I'm just a closet masochist, but I went ahead and stayed for the remainder of the night. These are my friends and I'll be dammed if Shana ruins any part of my adult life. I paste on a fake smile and begin talking with Willow, avoiding any and all other eye contact. I've made my point.
I'm sitting in the same wooden chair I sit in every Friday. The group continues to talk amongst themselves, and my mind starts to wander. Their voices fade into the background, and I think about my chair. I find comfort in its familiarity. In knowing how one leg is missing its bottom piece, causing the chair to wobble a little to the left. It's stupid, but it's something I can count on. I shift my weight and the uneven chair doesn't disappoint, landing on its shorter side with a hard thud, making me smile my first real smile.
I drink my coffee and take dig after dig from Roman's passive aggressive, patronizing, bitch of a new toy. It takes everything I have to not turn around and give him a piece of my mind, but by some miracle I survive. When the night winds down, I grab my purse and force myself out the door, all the while pretending I still have the dignity to walk away with my chin up and that same smile on my face.
Roman
Her silence is deafening. Much worse than the loudest cry. I know I've fucked it up and really hurt her good when she starts ignoring me.
Stage Six
Dead on Arrival- Fall out Boy
Rigbee
"What! Please tell me it wasn't Shana—bane of your existence—broke your ankle, Shana Bane, Shana? That must've been horrid."
"It was. She's exactly the same."
"Gross." Enzo scrunches up his face and sticks his tongue out.
"Yeah."
"Shit. I'm sorry he pulled such a stunt. How messed up. I'll try harder not to be right next time."
"What do you mean you were right? Right about what?" I demand.
"About taking breaks, and them never ending in a happily-ever-after."
"I only went there at all because of your whole 'persistence beats resistance' speech! It was very convincing!"
"Oooh. I meant in some cases, but in your case, I was actually betting on the other team."
I reach next to me to grab the remote and chuck it at his head. I have terrible aim, and it doesn't even come close. The remote hits the wall with a smash, leaving a gigantic dent in the drywall.
"Just perfect. And the day keeps getting better. Seriously, Enz, I took that advice and ran a marathon with it, you A-hole!"
"Hey, I meant the saying to be for me! I never told you to try it out."
"I know but it sounded so good."
"It did, didn't it?" His lips quirk up.
"Don't be smug, I was drunk when you said it."
My eyes begin to fill on their own accord. The sting of salt water and defeat all too apparent now.
"He's just scared, you know." He glances at me with doleful eyes before he walks over to inspect the new gash in the wall.
"Bull-ogny," I shout at him.
"It's true. He's terrified because he knows now how things like Amy's accident can happen at any time. It could very well have happened while they were dating, but more importantly it could've happened to you. And what then?"
He pauses for a moment to pass his hand back and forth over the dented drywall, no doubt wondering how much the fix is going to cost us out of our security deposit. He then continues to talk with his back to me. "The thought of something happening to possibly take you away from him doesn't sit well. He doesn't want to have you only because he doesn't want to lose you. You can't lose something you don't have."
He turns, facing me again.
"What you just said is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" I grab the nearest pillow to me and shove it right into my face before belting out a loud scream of frustration. I sound like a dying animal.
"Yes, it is." I pull the pillow from my face in time to see him shrug.
"Why spend the rest of your life being miserable anyway then, huh? The whole thing makes no sense at all."
"It does to him. Take it from me, guys can be idiots. We think different when we're not in our right minds."
"Gah! No kidding. I heard from Low today that he's going to a party tonight over at that Wes guy's house. I'm thinking about stopping by."
"Don't do it, Bee," he warns
"I need to. I almost don't have the strength anymore to try to fix this, and getting to the point of no return scares me. I have to do it now, while I still have some left. Before I'm completely empty," I whisper the last part too low for him to hear it.
"I know you think so. Bee, you're not thinking clearly right now. You can't see it, but take it from me as someone on the outside looking in, what you're about to do is so not a good idea."
"Why? What's the worst that could happen?"
"Other than you busting in all uninvited and shit, on a night he's probably going to be wasted and trying to have a good time, only to get pulled away to talk about feelings? Oh, nothing, All's gonna go over great." His hand being held up in the A-Okay gesture only emphasizes his sarcastic tone.
I ended up doing what any sane female in my position would do, I drove the forty-five minutes out of town, to some guy I barely know's house, so I can pull my sort of boyfriend away from all of the drunken fun being had and make him talk about his feelings.
So here I am, sitting in the driver's seat of my busted up Pontiac, parked in a driveway behind mounds of other cars belonging to the people here who were actually invited.
Now that I'm here, the thought that maybe this wasn't such a good idea takes hold. I have to push it away, though, because I'm already too invested to not see this through.
"Here goes everything," I whisper to myself as I take my phone out of my pocket and type out the text.
His reply comes right away and is unsurprisingly filled with shouty caps.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW
Me: STOP SHOUTY CAPPING ME AND NOPE NOT KIDDING. IN THE DRIVEWAY. NEED TO TALK.
I wait for another reply, but it never comes. What does come is a very hostile looking Roman, headed full speed out the door and toward my car. My passenger side door is ripped open, to the point where I thought it must've broke, and he slams himself into the seat next to me.
"What the fucking fuck are you doing here? I swear the only reason I'm even humoring you and sitting here right now is knowing you had to drive all of the way out here in the rain and dark, but, Rigbee, for the love of Christ, you better say what you came to say and then leave it the hell alone."
"I uh …" I'm thrown off by his request, seeing as how I came here to do exactly the opposite. "I don't think I can do that. We really need to talk," I tell him in such a soft voice I don't know if he's even able to hear it over the pounding droplets of rain impinging on the crest of my car.
"And you pick rig
ht now? You thought this-this was the best time for you to-to ambush me?" He jerks his hand up and swipes at the empty air around us in a messy attempt to show how this was not in fact the best time.
"There is no best time, and there's not going to be a best time, so I had to go with happening to know where you were going to be."
"Fucking Willow, man," he spits in exasperation.
Running both hands through his hair, he thrusts his back against the seat and states to himself, "I'm going to have to talk to her."
"Don't you dare: Willow's not the issue. This is about you and me." I firmly point my finger at him and then to myself to emphasize I mean business. "Roman, I love you. You know that by now. It's agonizing, and I'm in dire need to know what exactly is going on right about now. What are we doing? Where are we going? You've been leaving me with so many questions and I need them to be answered! I'm going crazy not knowing where we stand and what the hell is happening!"
He lowers his face and gazes down at the floorboard. Confliction weighs heavy on his face, ushering a pity from me I certainly don't want to give. I realize he is as tortured as I am.
But then, in a spry little bastard of an instant, it's gone. Something soul altering has seemingly now transpired and his face relaxes into a carefree smoothness. When he raises his eyes and focuses them back on me, I see it. Nothing.
The hollowness evident in his eyes prepares me for the outcome I've been dreading. His feelings for me are gone.
Devoid of all emotion, he grabs something from the pile of fast food bags and trash remnants by his feet and hands it to me. It's a nasty ass straw from a paper cup still a quarter of the way full of soda and has been leaking little by little into every unknown crevice of my vehicle making god knows how much of a mess.
