Page 26 of The Blessing

Chapter 13

Dark days

There are moments that transport you back in time. Images conjure up memories that have long been forgotten. Seeing Travis again took me back to my time in high school. Dean was the star athlete and I was a stoned brawler who couldn’t go a week without receiving some sort of discipline from our parents. Travis had been the running back on the high school football team with Dean. The three of us had once been very close—even though I was a few grades below them.

“You’ve got to quit dicking around, Trevor. You know Mom’s going to freak-out when she hears about this.”

With a busted lip and a fucked-up nose, there’s no way Mom’s going to keep her mouth shut this time. Not that she notices me much anyway. I can usually just slide by her and she won’t even bother to look up. I don’t complain; I love how fucking oblivious she is when it comes to me. I can spend my days away from home and come back in the early morning hours and not a single fuck is ever given. Of course, my dad would freak-out if he ever found out the truth. But he usually spends his nights trapped in his study, working on a heaping pile of paper work, while my mom drinks and watches reality television.

“She won’t hear about anything,” I say as I dab my upper lip with a dirty rag. “Just distract her with your stories like you always do. Tell her about a football game you won or some shit like that. She eats that shit right up.”

Dean rolls his eyes at me—although, he knows it’s fucking true. “I’ll cover for you this time, little brother. You got to stop wailing on everyone you see, though. You’re creating more enemies than you know what to do with.”

This time, I roll my eyes. “That’s an exaggeration. You know Drake had that shit coming to him for a while.”

“You fucked his girl, Trevor. Of course, he’s upset about it.”

Cleo was a prime piece, but one of the main reasons I hooked up with her was to mess with her dick of a boyfriend. Hooking up has become a sport for me. A sport that I’m really good at. It’s amazing, that regardless of the amount of shit I get for my actions, I’m never in need of a girl. Dean, my poster boy brother, is the opposite of me. While he still gets laid as frequently as I do, he’s got a steady girlfriend who doesn’t exactly like me. Cat thinks my behavior is disgusting, which I don’t understand. If a girl wants to drop her panties for some random asshole she’s just met, then who am I to stop her from having fun?

Travis jogs towards us with a shit-eating grin on his face. His parents just left town and he’s been itching to throw a party from the moment they walked out the door. “You two coming by tonight?”

“Of course, dude. I told you Trevor and I would be there,” Dean says with his usual bright, all-American smile.

They get to talking as we head to my brother’s car, with me lagging behind like I normally do. Travis jumps into the passenger seat and Dean stops me before I have the chance to jump in the back.

“Don’t bring any of your shit to the party tonight, Bro. We almost had an accident last time because of you.”

I nod, feeling sick all of a sudden. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind at the time, and it’s haunted me to this day. I’ve never seen anyone look like that. I’d lost track of my pills after one too many drinks and some girl snatched them off the counter and decided to take the lot of them. It was a wake-up call, and since then I’ve been more careful and kept anything I bring on my person at all times.

“Trevor? Trevor Warren is that you?”

Travis’s familiar voice pulls me away from my memories. Luckily, putting a stop to them before I remember the way that night had gotten a hell of a lot darker. So much stuff went down at that party and now that I’ve changed, it feels as though all that shit happened to a different person all together.

As I look up at Travis, I cringe to find he looks the exact same as he did back in high school. He looks more mature and calculating, but other than that, he looks just like he did when I saw him two years ago at my brother’s wedding. However, he looks older, and not in the way that’s to be expected. His eyes are haunted and his face is gaunt. I understand because I’m also mourning the loss of my best friend. He puts on a fake, cheery smile before walking toward my booth situated in farthest corner of the local diner. Grey must sense my change of mood because he grows agitated in my arms—giving me forewarning I don’t have much longer here until he starts crying.

“Hey, Trevor! It’s been forever, hasn’t it? I haven’t seen you since you left for California,” Travis says, gesturing to the unoccupied side of the booth—a silent way of asking if the seat’s taken.

I nod, indicating that it’s okay. Travis slides into his seat across from me.

“You’ve got little Greyson with you, too.” His bittersweet smile quickly transforms into a tired grimace. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner, Trevor. I just haven’t been feeling too hot since the funeral,” he rambles, running a nervous hand through his sandy blonde hair. “How are you doing, man?”

I want to fucking bolt. I don’t know what it is, but his presence puts me completely on edge. Maybe it’s because he’s a reminder of my brother, which I don’t fucking want. I wish I could lock away all the shitty reminders of Dean into a box and throw away the fucking key. Everything brings back too many painful memories. I guess I’m able to cope with Grey so well because I hadn’t met him until after his father’s death. I’m sure if I met him before, he’d be another painful reminder, as well. I feel fucking skittish. I’ve got to get out of here. Fuck, what is wrong with me? I feel like I’m an animal trapped in a fucking cage at the zoo.

“I’m fine,” I finally manage to spit out. “Got back into town recently, found a job, and I started taking care of Greyson.”

Grey looks back and forth between Travis and I—as if he were trying to detect a threat coming from my old friend. He looks as though he’s trying to place him, but he can’t quite figure it out. He’s probably too young to remember Travis ever being in his life anyway.

“That sounds amazing, man. I’m sure your brother would be really proud of you.”

I don’t think I can handle this right now. I don’t like to think about the past, let alone speak about it. I’ve not even discussed this shit with Ronnie, despite how calm she makes me feel. I just want her to see me, and not my past. I just want to start my life anew—and Travis is a reminder of the boy I once was. Although, I know it’s not fair to shut him out completely. We both lost the same person and we’d probably benefit from healing our wounds together. However, I’m not cut out to do that shit right now. I just want to be alone with my thoughts.

“I don’t want to talk about him right now,” I say in a clipped tone. “Especially with you, Travis. I see him when I look at you and it fucking kills me.” I feel like I’m inches away from an anxiety attack. Images of Dean flash through my mind like a movie reel running rampant.

Travis frowns at my curtness, but it’s obvious he understands. “Trevor, I don’t want to make this more difficult for you. We used to be close and I’d love to be a friend to you again, but if you don’t want to see me, then you don’t have to. But I think Dean would’ve wanted us to remain friends.”

That’s it. I’m tired of this “What Dean would want” bullshit. “My brother is fucking dead!” I state through gritted teeth. “Who knows what the fuck he’d want? He’s not here to tell us and he never will be!”

Grey begins to cry, startled by my outburst. I can feel all the color drain from my face as I look at him. I don’t know what made me lash out at Travis like that. This built-up rage inside of me is growing harder to control. It’s like caging a wild fucking bear in the confines of my body. It’s going to tear its way out sooner or later. I didn’t lash out because of Travis, but instead, of what Travis represents. He symbolizes the past with my brother and a time when we were all happy. Someone once told me that pain was good because it proves you’re still alive. If you’re still living you’ve got some fight left in you. If we can’t feel pain, then we can’t feel anything else. I wish I could will away these feelings. I wish I was numb and unfeeling like my mother.