Warmth floods my body as I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, grinning at the clothes scattered about the room. My t-shirt hangs off the other lampshade and I laugh at Vance’s perfect aim, even in the near darkness.
Gathering a clean pair of panties from the drawer, I slide them on along with a fresh t-shirt and sleep shorts. The red numbers on the clock blaring 3:00am make me cringe, knowing that my chances of falling back to sleep are nonexistent.
With a sigh, I head downstairs, fumbling for the light switch before padding to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. Restless, I putter around, opening and closing cabinets, not looking for anything in particular. I pause to stare out the window and my thoughts go to Vance. As if my whole body is awash with color, the desire to sculpt overwhelms me.
On my way to the basement, the front door opens and I grab my chest, nearly jumping out of my skin. My mom shuffles in the door. She doesn’t notice me right away because her head is down. “Geez, Mom. You scared me half to death. What are you doing home this early?” She doesn’t answer nor does she look up. On a second glance, she seems… off. Her hair is a tangled mess, blouse wrinkled and hanging out of her skirt. “Mom?”
Her head whips up as if she didn’t hear me, or expect to see me for that matter. Her normally bright gaze is hollow. Dried tears stain her cheeks while black smudges line her skin. She still won’t meet my eyes, averting her focus to something beyond my shoulder.
“Mom?” Why won’t she answer me? My voice rises to a higher pitch. “What happened to you?” Still no answer. She walks past me, her shoulders sagging. “Mom!” I shout this time, and she stops mid-way up the stairs.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she mumbles.
“Mom, you’re scaring me. Did something happen to Avery or Dad?”
She raises her chin a fraction, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she mumbles again like I’m not in the room. Then her gaze finally connects with mine and her voice cracks. “We didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Bringing a hand to the side of her head, she whispers, “We were both in pain… and lonely… we didn’t want to hurt anyone… least of all our kids.”
“Mom, what are you talking about?”
She continues climbing the stairs as my mind struggles to put the pieces together. None of this makes any sense—until it does. It can’t be, though. How can it be? No, no, no. Please, don’t let it be true. But deep down, I feel it.
The glass tumbles from my hand and shatters into tiny pieces, water splattering onto the tile floor. I hear my mother shouting, asking me what’s wrong. But my only thought is of Vance. I sprint to the door and jam my feet in my sneakers then tear out of the house, practically tripping down the front steps. I’m gasping for breaths that won’t come. Pressure builds behind my eyes before the tears arrive and I curse them for falling. It’s almost like my heart knows. The walls around it already caving in, the beat slowing to a halt. And when I round the corner I close my eyes in silent prayer. But I already know. Even before I open my eyes—I know.
And I was right about my heart. It doesn’t break.
I just can’t feel it anymore.
A CHILL HANGS in the air, a welcome burn to my skin. The sky is pitched in darkness, the moon clouded over—a perfect representation of my mood. I take a drag of the cigarette I’ve promised myself is my last one, not exactly giving a fuck tonight. Come to think of it, I don’t give a fuck about much these days. Smoke scrapes the back of my throat before I blow it out in a wintery puff.
“Davenport, you’re up in ten. It’s a big crowd tonight.” Paul’s voice bellows from inside and I try to muster the enthusiasm I know he wants to see from me, but never manage to live up to. I can’t remember the last time I had that much enthusiasm for anything. Actually I can. And that’s the fucking problem.
“Hurry up.” A girl laughs, rushing her friend inside. “I want to get a good seat. Hot musicians and all.”
I roll my eyes. Every week chicks come in and fawn all over us. Little do they know, I don’t want anything to do with them. Not that I haven’t been lured in the past—I’m only human. But it’s the follow-through I’m having the issue with lately. Mostly because I don’t want the emptiness that a quick fuck carries with it. I want… well, it doesn’t matter what I want. Any chance of me having what I really wanted, I fucked up a long time ago.
My mind kicks into high gear, reminding me of all the reasons we wouldn’t have worked out. The cards that were stacked against us; our parents, my potential illness. As I go through the checklist in my brain, the same one that played repeatedly these past few years, it doesn’t make me feel any better. It never does. My body sags against the rough brick and I expel a weary sigh.
“Hey, Vance. You okay?”
I angle my head to discover Chris peering out from the back entrance. Lucky for me, the absence of light out here cloaks the truth. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”