"Well, it's getting late and I have work in the morning," Donna said, getting up from the couch and heading for the basement door. "Try not to be in the same positions when I come back tomorrow."
I broke my concentration to look at her and force a grin. "We'll do our best.." She smiled back and kissed the side of my cheek before gathering her things and heading out into the cold night. I watched briefly as flecks of snow wandered into the basement after her, and settled into the rug. I wished she had stayed, if only so this would feel less awkward.
Since I had gotten back from Africa, Hyde and I hadn't been alone in a room together for more than a minute, tops. I made sure of it. If my parents needed help with something, I made sure I was right there, and after all of our friends left for the night, I was the first to scurry up to my bedroom after little more than a cursory "well, see ya." It felt weird, for sure, to be uncomfortable around the person I'd considered my best friend for practically my whole life. And though the teaching job I'd taken in South Africa taught me a lot about patience, I somehow couldn't apply it to Hyde. The moment we were alone I felt a panic crawl up my spine that was almost too much to bear.
Looking at Hyde, you'd never know anything was wrong. He kept it casual in front of our friends, even hugged me briefly at first when I came home, but I knew better. When everyone turned away, the easy-going smile would drop from his face, and his eyes, when he wasn't wearing his sunglasses, would go icy at the sight of me. I know he was upset that I left, even though he was calm about it when it happened, and I knew he was keeping up the charade to make everyone else happy and unsuspecting. Hyde was a good person, despite the teasing and fights we got into when we were growing up, and I knew this act, I'd seen it dozens of times before, like when he lied to my mom about being okay that Edna left, even though it meant he lived in a trash heap for weeks and ate saltines covered in ketchup. He never wanted to bother anyone or have his feelings be a burden, that was his way since the first time I met him when we were kids, since the first time I saw the bruises on his sides from one of the various "uncles" his mom brought into his life who got too drunk and too ill-tempered. So I knew something was up from the moment after his robotic half-hug when I walked in the door, and the face that immediately followed, though he tried his best to cover it up. But I didn't know how to fix it, and I didn't know what would happen if I tried.
We sat in silence, a Brady Bunch rerun playing on the ancient TV covered in a thin film of dust, both of us waiting for the other to break the silence, to cop out some lame exclamation of tiredness and be the first to bolt. I tried my best to look engrossed by the show but I couldn't help but glance at him every now and then from my peripheral, feet up on the striped ottoman, arms crossed, face expressionless below his perched glasses. The silence felt like it stretched forever, and unconsciously, I sighed. Hyde's head snapped to me at the sound.
"Watch it, Forman."
"God, sorry. I'm just-"
"What, tired?" He asked, in a sneering voice. "Too much jet-lag?"
This was the most we'd really spoken since I came back, that wasn't just banter with the rest of our friends. I should've just apologized, tried to keep whatever peace might have been there, but his tone ate at me.
"Yeah, sorry Hyde, sorry I just came back from a fucking entirely different continent and it made me a little sleepy." We were meeting each other's eyes now, and there wasn't a hint of dullness in his sky-blue eyes, instead, they burned with a dark rage.
"You know what? I'm sick of your shit, Forman. Ever since you got back, every second of every day is about you, everything's about Africa, will you ever just fucking shut up?"
All I could do was stare at him. "Look, either tell me what your real problem is, or let's not talk."
"Then I guess we're not talking because I don't have any problem." He replied venomously before storming off to his basement bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him before I could get in another word. I stared back at the Brady Bunch in his absence as it faded to commercial, suddenly wishing more than anything else that I hadn't come back at all. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I grabbed my jacket from behind the couch, and headed out into the January night to Donna's house, wanting to be anywhere but here.