When Gilbert heard his brother pull up in front of their house he sighed. 'Might as well get this over with,' he thought, getting out of bed and pulling a pair of pants on. As he entered the living room his brother opened the door and came in. "Hey." Gilbert said softly.
Ludwig looked up briefly then continued taking off his coat and shoes, and loosened his tie. Gilbert watched him, noticing how weary his younger brother looked. When had he become so prematurely middle aged?He had only been working for that company for two years now, yet it seemed like a burden on those broad shoulders. Sometimes Gilbert wanted to tease his brother about being so macho for just a paper pusher, but didn't want to get yelled at for not having a job himself.
Ludwig walked right past him into the kitchen, grabbed a beer, opened it and sat down heavily at the kitchen table. Gilbert trailed in after his brother and sat down across from him.
"Don't you want one too?" Ludwig asked tipping the bottle to take a swig. Gilbert just grunted, shaking his head. He'd been too depressed to drink. It had always been a fun time sort of activity for him.
He could never understand people that drank because they were down. Drink a depressant to feel less depressed? It was illogical. The only way it made sense was if the person knew that A: alcohol is poison, B: poison kills, thus C: drink alcohol and die. But, lets face it, that was just too damned inefficient a way for Gilbert Beilschmidt to die!
"Well, out with it then. What's wrong with you?" Ludwig asked bluntly. Gilbert flinched at the confrontational tone. 'Really, shouldn't I be used to it by now?'
The older brother frowned and stared at his hands, a tightly clenched fist grinding into the palm of his other hand. Did he think he was going to fight someone? He pulled his hands apart, grabbed his legs instead, and tried to take a deep breath and look his brother in the eyes.
"Um…" he swallowed, watching the impatience build on his brother's face. 'What should I say? That I'm a pathetic loser that can't deal with life? That I think everyone is judging me and hates me, and I think they're right? That I hate myself so much when I screw up that I imagine cutting my own throat?'
To his horror, Gilbert felt tears welling up in his eyes. He tried to blink them away but found himself sniffling, Like a fucking little kid! He raged at himself inside, disgusted with himself. Ludwig looked uncomfortable, no more than that, he looked completely at a loss what to do. 'He must think I'm going crazy…' Gilbert realized and suddenly felt numb. He swallowed his pain and sat up straight.
"It's okay. I guess I'm just having a hard time right now, but, you know, I'll be back on top of things soon."
Ludwig sighed, closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "God, Gilbert, what am I supposed to do with you? Hmm?" Those glacier blue eyes looked at Gilbert, but seemed to look right through him. "You need something to take your mind off your problems. Just…find something to keep yourself busy, okay?" Ludwig tried to be diplomatic by leaving it at that, then he got up and left Gilbert sitting there alone…
Gilbert sat there for a while, wondering if he was ever going to be honest with his brother, when he suddenly noticed that the phone book was on the table. He lunged for it and searched feverishly for
"Williams, Madeline." 'Great, there's only like, fifty?' he briefly imagined himself calling each one and saying, "Is that you Maddie? It's Gilbert. You know, the guy from the bridge."
'Wow, I feel a little creeped out by myself.' he thought, rejecting that plan. Instead, he looked at the names of the streets they were on. 'What was the name of that street? Harold,right?' He looked through all of the names, looking for Harold.
"Dammit, there's a Harold St. and a Harold Ave.! What the hell! Goddamn the idiots that planned this city!" He smacked the table, and cursed when he hurt his hand. He calmed down a bit and comforted himself with the thought that now there were only two possible numbers. If the name of the street was actually Harold. He reminded himself. There were plenty of other 'H' streets.
He was getting a bit discouraged. Even if it was her, was it too early to try calling her? Wouldn't she be creeped out if the guy that she just saved from offing himself called her the same day, and she hadn't even given him her phone number? And what would he say to her when he got her on the phone?
'Please, meet me again as soon as possible, or…' He broke off that thought. It was too pathetic. It was intolerable. He shut the phone book in disgust and went back to his room.
"Okay. Back to the computer." He signed into Facebook and did a search for Madeline Williams. 'Okay, so there's only like a million of them.' He scrolled down idly, trying to figure out what his next move was, and then, there she was. Her picture was right there in front of him. He couldn't believe his luck. Maybe…maybe this was meant to be? He clicked on her picture. Of course it was set to private. He slowly moved the mouse and clicked to send a friend request. Now, he supposed, all he had to do was wait.