Text 2 Lovers

by J. D. Hollyfield

  The chair squeaks again as he swivels. “It isn’t exactly something you want to offer up,” he says in my defense.

  I shrug my shoulders. “She won’t let me explain. I’ve called her no less than sixty times, Roman.”

  He lets out a chuckle, but it’s humorless. “Chill with the stalker moves. Let her calm down. She’s just really upset right now. Once she’s past the initial hurt, she’ll hear you out. Just give her a couple of days.”

  A couple of days?

  I can’t live without speaking to her a couple of hours. There is no way in hell I can survive days without her.

  “Hmmph.” That’s my only response.

  “Look,” he grumbles. “I’ll explain it to her. The whole story. If she won’t listen to you, I’ll get her to listen to me. Besides, I need to do some explaining myself to Andie.”

  I squint against the bright overhead light to look at my brother. He looks like shit. Tired. Stressed out. Lost. “What did you do?”

  He scrubs his cheek with his palm. “I went off and fell into something for her. Like. Lust. I don’t fucking know what. All I know is I like her mean ass. I like her voice when she yells at me. I like her verbal beat downs. I like her sexy round ass. And, boy, do I love her goddamned tits. But…” he trails off and scowls. “She thinks I’ve been just fucking around with her. Chelsea told Dani that she and I were seeing each other. Andie was pissed. It’s such a clusterfuck, man.”

  “Wow. Andie, huh? I thought she hated you.”

  He laughs. “She does. That girl can hate fuck like you would not believe.”

  “Chelsea is like a damned hurricane. She just obliterates anything in her path. Why’d we have to be in her path?” I groan.

  “Not for long,” he assures me, an evil glint in his eyes. “I’ve been working on some stuff. Stuff I didn’t want to burden you with. But things are going to get better for you and I both soon.”

  My phone rings and I jerk to answer it. When I see it’s our sister, Reagan, calling through, I send the call to voicemail. “What am I going to do?”

  He shrugs his shoulders as he stands. “Just try not to beat yourself up. If you can’t get through to her, I will. Everything will work out.”

  His words hold a twinge of vulnerability. I know my brother. He says everything he means with confidence. And his last statement had a sliver of uncertainty.

  Fuck uncertainty.

  Me: Please listen.

  Me: Buttercup, I love you.

  Me: Hear me out. Ignoring me solves nothing.

  Me: It’s not what you think.

  Me: Jesus Christ I fucking miss you!

  Me: Dani. God. Talk to me.

  Buttercup: Stop messaging. You and your cheating cocksucking whore brother can go to hell.

  Andie.

  Day two and Dani still won’t talk to me.

  Me: Tell her I love her, Andie.

  Buttercup: I would tell her but that’s probably a lie too.

  For three days, I’ve stared at my ceiling. I’ve memorized all of the sounds of the apartment. The slow, ragged sound of my breathing. The occasional click as the heater switches on. The familiar sounds of football playing on the television as Roman watches it in the living room. I haven’t moved much in three days. Mostly, I rummage around for a cup of coffee or a beer between my ceiling staring sessions. I’m not sure if I showered. I’m sure I don’t care. I’m not sure if I’ve spoken anymore to Roman. I’m sure I don’t care. I’m not sure I’ve done a damn thing except obsess over Dani. She’s all I care about.

  My door gets pushed open and for a split second, I pray it’s Dani. Unfortunately, it’s Roman. And fucking Reagan.

  Groaning, I pull my pillow over my face. “What?”

  My little sister sets her purse down on my desk and crawls into bed next to me. She yanks the pillow away and glares.

  “Not again, Rammy. Get out of this bed,” she orders, her pert nose flaring with her words.

  I roll my eyes and start to turn over on my side. “Did he really call in reinforcements? Newsflash, sis, Dani doesn’t want me anymore. This is me now. Get over it.”

  “Lucky for you, I’m home for Christmas break.” She grabs my shoulder and yanks me back. “Nope. Not again. I remember being helpless the last time you were like this because I was halfway across the country. And the time before that, I was only fourteen and couldn’t drive to save you. Well, big bro, I’m here and I can drive and I’m not going anywhere until you pull yourself out of this funk.”

  I flip her off.

  “Told you,” Roman says with a huff. “He’s being a little bitch.”

  I flip him off too.

  Reagan lets out a huff and cuddles up against me like she used to when she was six years old. “Bub, you have to pull your shit together. You scare me when you get like this. Have you seen your face?”

  Her voice sounds so small and childlike, despite the curse word, that it has me turning to regard my sister. Bright brown eyes stare at me, a mixture of fear and determination flickering in them.

  “I’m fine,” I lie. “Just go shopping with Mom or whatever it is you two do right before Christmas.”

  “You’re not fine.” Reagan always calls me out on my bullshit. “You have dark circles under your eyes. You have a beard almost. And you smell like Roman’s dirty socks.”

  We both shudder. Roman used to get shit all the time from us as kids about his stinky football socks. This time it’s our brother who flips us off.

  “I’m fine,” I try again. “If you get out of my bed, maybe I can get some sleep.”

  Her nose scrunches. “It’s two in the afternoon. At this point, a shower and food are more important.”

  Closing my eyes, I ignore them both. I think about Dani. Her sweet, shy smile. Her twinkling hazel eyes. The way her laugh sounds in my ear, sending vibrations straight down to my cock.

  “Come on,” Roman barks out suddenly. “Reagan, let’s go grab Ram some food.”

  My sister lets out an exasperated sigh before kissing my forehead. Then, they both quietly leave my room. I pop my eyes open again and continue my staring at the ceiling vigil. At least when I stare at the white textured surface, I don’t imagine the heartbreaking look on her face.

  I check my phone for the hundredth time today. Nothing.

  Me: I think about you non-stop. I wish you would hear me out, baby. I was embarrassed. So fucking embarrassed. All I ever wanted was to be good enough for you. Man enough. Successful enough. Loving enough. Telling you about how I was fired over such a shitty thing that wasn’t even my fault sickened me. I couldn’t bear seeing a look of disgust in your eyes. I love you. Always. Even if you never come back to me.

  Dragging my pillow back over my head, I attempt sleep. Sleep evades me, though. Like always. The only time it doesn’t evade me is when she’s in my arms. When her tiny body is molded against mine and I’m free to breathe in her sweet, unique scent all night long.

  Time passes. Not sure for how long. But it is dark when I finally force myself out of bed. I do stink. Badly. I manage a half-ass shower. With Dani on my mind, I jerk off under the hot spray but then give up halfway through. It doesn’t mean anything getting off when the one you love isn’t getting off too. After I barely towel dry my messy hair, I find a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low and loose on my hips. No underwear. No socks. No shirt. I can’t be bothered by any of it.

  With dragging feet, I shuffle into the kitchen. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything besides a Pop-Tart. My stomach grumbles but I ignore it. I rummage in the cabinets until I find a bottle of whiskey. I unscrew the lid and take a long pull on the liquid that burns the entire way down my throat. The fire settles in the empty pit of my belly. I like how it invigorates my dying body. Dead parts reawaken.

  I take my bottle back to bed with me. Sitting up against the headboard, I flip through selfies she and I took with my phone. I’m torturing myself but I can’t help it. She’ll always be mine even if she�
��ll never have me again. Another long swig of whiskey.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m good and drunk. I text Chelsea and tell her she’s a cunt. I text Mom and tell her I’m an asshole. I text Reagan and tell her she should study psychology. I text Roman and tell him Chelsea is a cunt. I text Dani and tell her I’m an asshole. I get a text from Andie that says I’m an asshole. This goes on and on until I can’t see my screen anymore. I manage to dial Dani’s number in my haze.

  I’m too drunk to notice if she’s picked up or if it’s gone to voicemail. Either way, I just talk.

  “I-It’s always been you, Uttercup.” I groan. “Fuck. I can’t think straight. You. Mine.” Another groan. Another swig of whiskey. “Fuck me. I’m so goddamned sorry. She… She…that woman…Jesus!” I curse and attempt to drain my bottle. When I realize it’s empty, I sling it against the wall. It thuds against it and then bounces on the carpet. “Frommm the moment you wrong texted me, I was yours,” I slur. “You w-were mine, and I love you and I need you and, goddammit, please answer your phone and talk to me beautiful.”

  Sniffle.

  I blink through my haze trying to decide if I imagined it or not. “I can’t sleep because you plague my every thought, Dannnni,” I drawl out. “You’re both my punishment and my reward. God fucking dammit! I’m trying to apologize and it’s all coming out wrong.”

  Another sniffle.

  She really is there.

  “Baby,” I groan. “Jesus, I love you. Hear me? I love you. Come back to me. I can’t live without you. I’m drowning in my thoughts for you. There’s no color or sound or light. Just sadness and fucking despair. I need you, baby. Don’t you need me too?”

  Click.

  Howling out in pain that I can feel with every fiber of my being, I throw my phone. It too thuds somewhere in my room. I fist the covers and clench my eyes closed. Emotion chokes my throat. I feel as though a two-hundred-pound man is sitting on my chest. I can’t breathe. Fuck. My heart is throbbing hard and painfully inside my empty chest—as if now that she’s gone, it has nothing to beat for.

  Please come back to me, Dani.

  I Just Want to Sleep

  “HONEY, I’M HOME!” I HEAR Andie’s voice from deep under the blankets. Her footsteps get louder and then the mattress dips with her weight. “Hey girlfriend, you get out of this bed yet today?” She tries pulling the covers off me, but I hold tight barricading myself deep inside. “I take that as a no. Well listen, I think it’s great and all that you want to spend the rest of your life in my comforter igloo, but you’re going to have to make some decisions here soon. Like if you want to eat or wither away, keep your job, since you’ve called in sick the last three days and I can only tell Harold so many times that you’re a bleeding mess, or have the stomach flu, shitting all over yourself.”

  I grunt, throwing the covers off my face. “You did not.” I blink a few times, the brightness hurting my sensitive eyes. Swollen from the nonstop crying, I lift my arm to block the light.

  She smiles gently. “I didn’t. Well, kinda didn’t. But you know him. He’s itching to make an example out of someone and since you’re officially runner up on most consecutive days of calling in sick…”

  At this point I couldn’t care less. Let Harold stick-up-his-ass Sphincterson fire me. I hate that job anyway. I try grabbing for the covers, but this time Andie puts up a fight. “Dani, no. I love you, girl, but I can’t watch you do this anymore. You’re worrying me. This isn’t healthy.” She lets out a huff. “Not to mention, Marilyn Manson hates me. He gives me the stink-eye when I go feed him.”

  I try another tug, but she’s not letting up. I groan, giving up and turning, offering her my back. My heart aches for my kitty, but it aches worse for Ram. “Well, I’m sick of this too. I’m sick of feeling so hurt. So lost. I’m sick of crying so hard that I make myself sick. I’m sick of feeling so alone and heartbroken ‘cause I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fix what he did. I am just as sick as you are about what this has done to me, but I don’t know how to change that.” I don’t know how it’s possible to still cry, but the tears manage to slide down my cheeks. My shoulders begin to shake as Andie crawls fully into the bed, snuggling behind me. She wraps her arm around me, holding me as I cry. Again. It’s been like this for the past three days. Three days which have felt like a lifetime of sadness and betrayal. Confusion on what to do.

  Andie took my phone right from the beginning, fighting the battle with Ram for me. I didn’t ask what he was texting and she didn’t tell me. She said it was for the best. One day into it though and my mind started to wonder what he was saying. Did he feel remorse? Was he sorry for lying? Hiding something so big from me. Was he hurting as bad as I was? Was he over it and already moving on?

  I cry harder thinking about the last one. What if he just gave up? Andie assured me at one point on day two, when I was staring at my phone, that he was super active in being an annoying asshole, and I’d better hope I have an unlimited plan because he won’t shut the fuck up. It was the first, small, but something, giggle I had shown in days.

  “I’m sorry you’re hurting, honey. I just want you to be happy. And back to the beautiful, kind, and cheery Dani I’m used to.”

  And so do I. But I’m afraid that I don’t know how to get back there. Or if I ever can. She hugs me tighter as the sound of loud banging comes from the front door. The banging stops, then automatically starts again, this round more aggressive.

  “Jesus, if that asshole had the nerve to come over here.” My body tenses thinking he might be here. So close. Just outside that door. Andie disappears on a mission, and I hear the clatter of her heels slamming on the wood floor as she makes her way to the door. It’s seconds after that I hear the door thrown open and the yelling begins. Afraid she’s going to kill him, I jump out of bed, heading for them.

  Shock, then disappointment sets in, when I see Roman with a girl standing at the threshold of her apartment.

  “You douchebag, motherfucker! Coming here with one of your sluts!” Andie goes to swing at Roman, but he catches her wrist.

  “Calm the fuck down, woman. She’s my sister. Her name’s Reagan.”

  Andie stares at the other woman with her mouth gaping open in shock while I scrutinize the girl next to Roman. I automatically see the similarities. Matching hair color and eyes, she also has the same nose as Ram. Just thinking his name brings back the hurt.

  “Oh, well I’m sorry I called you a slut. It’s your cunt of a brother who’s the slu—”

  With a gasp out of Andie, Roman charges for her, lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder. “Put me down, you big oaf!”

  “No. You’re gonna hear me out and you’re gonna stop calling me names and hitting me!”

  “NEVER!” Andie yells just as Roman enters her bedroom, kicking the door closed with his heel. Ram’s sister and I stare at the closed door. We hear a squeal, and I assume Roman just dropped her onto her bed.

  “OUCH! You bit me!” Andie snarls.

  “You just tried to rip my balls off!” Roman yells. “Fuck, you’re crazy.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  It gets eerily quiet for a few seconds, until it’s quiet no more.

  “Oh my God, are they doing it right now?” Reagan gasps.

  “Ew, I think they are.” I turn to their sister and we both start laughing. “I’m sorry, how rude of me. Please come inside. We can turn on the television in hopes to drown them out.”

  She smiles, that Holloway smile, and follows me to the couch. We both sit, and I turn on the television. It’s a Wonderful Life plays on the screen.

  “I’m Reagan, by the way. Roman and Ram’s baby sister. Nice to officially meet you.”

  “Oh, you must think my manners are horrible.” I stick my hand out. “I’m Dani. You’re super pretty.” And she is.

  “Thanks, so are you. You look very sad, though. I’m sorry my brother made you so sad.” I’m embarrassed that she can tell I’m suffering, but at this poin
t, it seems impossible to hide it. My normal luster has dulled. I know I’ve dropped weight, even in the three short days, from lack of eating and crying.

  “Me too,” I reply sadly.

  “You seem super nice, though!” She beams. “Not kinda loco, like your friend. No offense.” I laugh because she’s right. Andie is crazy.

  Uncomfortable silence falls upon us. My chest aches with the pain only Ram can dole out to me. Breaking up with Daryl was annoying and frustrating. Losing what I had with Ram is soul crushing and killer.

  “Dani,” Reagan murmurs, dragging me from my inner painful thoughts. “Can I tell you a story?”

  I turn to her, and nod. She smiles, looking thankful. Maybe she thought I’d have turned her down. “As I said, I’m the youngest of us three. Roman and I are eight years apart, Ram and I six. Roman and I weren’t really close when I was little. He was already into his friends, school, and sports. He didn’t really want to be bothered by his little sister. But Ram. He was always there for me. When I was little, at night, I would be too scared to go to my mom and dad if I wet the bed or had bad dreams. Not that they would have been mad. But I was embarrassed, so I would always go to Ram. He would clean me up or calm me. And then I would cuddle in his bed with him, listening to him tell me stories, until I fell asleep. He just took care of me. He always has. He was such a lover as a kid, and one growing up. He cared for his family, his friends, and he looked out for what was his. He kicked a boyfriend’s ass once for cheating on me, left parties to come pick me up at the mall because my car would break down, and he would make sure I was doing my homework even when all I wanted to do was play video games with him. He was my best friend.”

  She pauses a moment to make sure I’m still following her. I’m not sure if she notices, but I’m chewing on my lower lip, trying to hide my building emotions. Hearing what a loyal brother Ram was makes me thankful Reagan has somebody like him.