tension and edge is gone.
After we find our bags at the baggage claim, we head outside to the taxi lanes. Franco, Robbie, and Jamie share a cab. Jamie and Robbie share a place in Carlsbad with a couple other guys, but they're staying at Franco's place in San Diego tonight. The three of them leave for Hawaii tomorrow. They're going on vacation for a week. Surfing for a week, no less. Me, I'm just happy to be heading back to Ma's. I don't need a vacation. I need home.
The cab ride takes about thirty minutes and though all I want to do is sleep, I can't get this nagging feeling out of my pressure-filled head. Impatient left Sunday afternoon from Dallas. I heard a muffled conversation between her and Hitler on the bus right before soundcheck. When we arrived back on the bus after dinner, she was gone. Her bunk was empty. She fucking vanished into thin air. It was like she'd never even been there at all. It was a shock I felt in my gut. I don't know if it was the fact that familiarity had been altered. I don't know if it was the fact that I knew I was on my own again, if only for two days. But what bothered me the most was that she didn't say goodbye, which is batshit crazy, because I know she didn't like me. We never talked outside of that morning at the laundromat in Tennessee. But we had established a routine of silent communication using sticky notes of all things, and the past three weeks we added hand gestures and facial cues. What started off impersonal turned into intimately impersonal. When you don't speak with someone out loud, you study their mannerisms and body language much more closely. You get to know them on a different level. Bright Side and I were that way. We could carry on an entire conversation without ever uttering a word.
By the time we pull in Ma's driveway and I pay, thoughts of Impatient have gone foggy and given way to exhaustion. I'm struggling to put one foot in front of the other to walk up the front porch steps, and all I can think about is sleeping the day away while Ma's at work.
My eyes are hazy and scratchy when I open them. The sun is setting outside my window. I blink a few times trying to clear my vision to take in the view. The sunset doesn't come into focus; instead it becomes a blur of fiery orange. I feel a sudden rush of grief. I blink, and realize that my eyes are filling with tears. Sunsets have always reminded me of Bright Side. She and her sister, Gracie, loved to watch the sunset. They did it every night. It was a planned event, and they called it "showtime." Seeing the sun drown itself out in the ocean tonight is bittersweet because it brings with it thoughts of her and the fact that I'll never watch a sunset with either one of them again. The pain builds in my chest until it erupts into sobs. I haven't cried like this for weeks. When I finally catch my breath, I'm covered in sweat. My body feels foreign, and my mind seems to float at a distance. It takes more effort than it should to heave my body out of bed and strip off my soaked T-shirt and sweats, and slip into a pair of board shorts from a pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to my bed. I don't want to make the journey to the kitchen, but I'm so thirsty and I need some aspirin. My head is throbbing.
I hear Ma's voice talking to someone as I round the corner into the kitchen. She stops mid-sentence when she sees me. "Gus, honey, what's wrong?" The back of her hand is to my forehead in a flash. "You have a fever."
"Flu," I confirm. "Better keep your distance, Ma. Hi, by the way. I missed you."
"Hi, Gus. Oh, I've missed you, too." She hugs me despite my warning and I'm grateful for it. I squeeze her and my muscles scream, but I ignore them. Arms still wrapped around Ma, I open my eyes and notice the person standing across the kitchen, cutting onions, mushrooms, and red peppers. Seeing her confirms that I've gone from feverish to delirious.
It's Impatient.
What the hell?
Her stance hints at her normal guarded
After we find our bags at the baggage claim, we head outside to the taxi lanes. Franco, Robbie, and Jamie share a cab. Jamie and Robbie share a place in Carlsbad with a couple other guys, but they're staying at Franco's place in San Diego tonight. The three of them leave for Hawaii tomorrow. They're going on vacation for a week. Surfing for a week, no less. Me, I'm just happy to be heading back to Ma's. I don't need a vacation. I need home.
The cab ride takes about thirty minutes and though all I want to do is sleep, I can't get this nagging feeling out of my pressure-filled head. Impatient left Sunday afternoon from Dallas. I heard a muffled conversation between her and Hitler on the bus right before soundcheck. When we arrived back on the bus after dinner, she was gone. Her bunk was empty. She fucking vanished into thin air. It was like she'd never even been there at all. It was a shock I felt in my gut. I don't know if it was the fact that familiarity had been altered. I don't know if it was the fact that I knew I was on my own again, if only for two days. But what bothered me the most was that she didn't say goodbye, which is batshit crazy, because I know she didn't like me. We never talked outside of that morning at the laundromat in Tennessee. But we had established a routine of silent communication using sticky notes of all things, and the past three weeks we added hand gestures and facial cues. What started off impersonal turned into intimately impersonal. When you don't speak with someone out loud, you study their mannerisms and body language much more closely. You get to know them on a different level. Bright Side and I were that way. We could carry on an entire conversation without ever uttering a word.
By the time we pull in Ma's driveway and I pay, thoughts of Impatient have gone foggy and given way to exhaustion. I'm struggling to put one foot in front of the other to walk up the front porch steps, and all I can think about is sleeping the day away while Ma's at work.
My eyes are hazy and scratchy when I open them. The sun is setting outside my window. I blink a few times trying to clear my vision to take in the view. The sunset doesn't come into focus; instead it becomes a blur of fiery orange. I feel a sudden rush of grief. I blink, and realize that my eyes are filling with tears. Sunsets have always reminded me of Bright Side. She and her sister, Gracie, loved to watch the sunset. They did it every night. It was a planned event, and they called it "showtime." Seeing the sun drown itself out in the ocean tonight is bittersweet because it brings with it thoughts of her and the fact that I'll never watch a sunset with either one of them again. The pain builds in my chest until it erupts into sobs. I haven't cried like this for weeks. When I finally catch my breath, I'm covered in sweat. My body feels foreign, and my mind seems to float at a distance. It takes more effort than it should to heave my body out of bed and strip off my soaked T-shirt and sweats, and slip into a pair of board shorts from a pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to my bed. I don't want to make the journey to the kitchen, but I'm so thirsty and I need some aspirin. My head is throbbing.
I hear Ma's voice talking to someone as I round the corner into the kitchen. She stops mid-sentence when she sees me. "Gus, honey, what's wrong?" The back of her hand is to my forehead in a flash. "You have a fever."
"Flu," I confirm. "Better keep your distance, Ma. Hi, by the way. I missed you."
"Hi, Gus. Oh, I've missed you, too." She hugs me despite my warning and I'm grateful for it. I squeeze her and my muscles scream, but I ignore them. Arms still wrapped around Ma, I open my eyes and notice the person standing across the kitchen, cutting onions, mushrooms, and red peppers. Seeing her confirms that I've gone from feverish to delirious.
It's Impatient.
What the hell?
Her stance hints at her normal guarded
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