"Like an Angel"
There's a jolt and I bounce in my seat slightly, eyes slow to open and sensitive to the light. There's soft music from the radio and a gentle hum from the heater and I notice the warm breeze. My hand is slow to rub the sleep from my eyes as I stare out the window. We hit the city, I'm here, almost. The sun's setting and the city lights come to life as we pass building after building, albeit a bit slower than I would like.
I can feel his eyes on me as we sit in the evening traffic, inching forward through downtown. I can feel him try to mouth some words and I can feel his uncertainty at what he should do. I sit my seat forward, a click and a groan come together as I adjust myself to the new position.
I struggle to move past the dream. How many times do I have to relive that? How many times do I have to see that damned city when I close my eyes? At least… at least I wasn't asleep long enough to see all of it.
"It's rude to stare," I mutter and he shifts around in his seat
His fingers tapping the wheel lightly, just out of sync with the soft music coming from the stereo. Never had great rhythm.
"Sorry, it's just that…" his voice is quiet, filled a certain sincerity I'd long forgotten. But I notice how its different than before. His initial excitement has since faded, his voice slower than before and his eyes are warm as he looks at me; but the energy that once glowed there has dimmed.
I was wrong, he has changed. I can see now, he traded his eccentric attitude in to be the man we always pretended he was as kids. He went and grew up.
"You look like you've grown up," he says at last, awkwardly, unsure if that's how he should have phrased it. "Last time I saw you... you were so different. It's good to have you back." I can only stare at the small tear in the corner of his eye, then another. "Dang-it, I promised myself I wouldn't cry."
I look forward for a moment, almost amazed at the height of everything around me. Was it always this high? I look down, noting the fresh pavement and the road crew up ahead: putting away the day's gear and supplies to go home. But I'm pulled back to the car by a single sob and a deep breath as he stops his tears from getting even worse.
"Speaking of growing up..." I gesture at the goatee.
He cracks a smile again and rubs his facial hair. "Yeah, Kaley suggested it, so I just went for it," he says absently, staring at the road ahead.
"How long have you two been married?" The question is only really half asked. The words came odd, awkward as I said them. There's a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as the car pulls around a corner. We're close, I think.
I can't help but think back to the before I left, how cruel I was to her. My own sister, my own blood, and I barely spoke to her. Yelled at her for little stuff or mocked her when she was happy and argued with her when she was sad. It doesn't matter if I took the hits for her as kids, took the punishment so she could be better. I don't deserve her kindness. Nor his or anybody's for that matter. But she's nice anyway, despite everything, she's gladly letting me stay with her, happy just to know I'm okay. And it's all because I'm her sister. Because that's what family does.
The pit in my stomach grows deeper. And suddenly sick with myself, sick of everything I've done. I don't deserve anyone's kindness. And I remember something Carmine told me years ago. But the thought melts away as I hear Spencer's voice, his thumb rubbing the gold band on his finger.
"Two years. Almost three," he says with a big smile, the kind that would make normal people smile with him, share in the joy of the moment.
But I'm not most people, I'm me. So I just smile sadly as he starts to tell the story of how they met. But I can't hear him anymore. I can't hear anything besides my own heartbeat. Thumping away in my chest. Reminding me how I'm alive, how I'm here, and how everyone else that should be here is gone. How men with reasons to live, good men, my friends, my brothers, died in my place. Carmine's voice echoes in my ears, a sound warning he told as a child. One I ignored.
"Do you remember what I said about friendship? Well, it's a two-way street. You can't just expect them to throw themselves under the bus for you every time. You have to be willing to do it for them too. You need to be strong enough to help them too. And don't ever be jealous of your sister, she looks up to you, and you need to look out for her."
I remember that day, Mel was with us for the first time that summer. She was sad and crying about being away from home and so Carmine got her a present to cheer her up, I can't think what, and I threw a fit. It had been months of near torture for me and she got a gift on her first day. He pulled me aside and told me that. He wasn't himself that day, no jokes, no cryptic message or jokes.
The way he said it was like he was warning me, like he knew I'd end up like this. But it wasn't one of his lessons, so he didn't spend days driving it home. He said it just once, and he never brought it up again, so I just forgot it, let it slip away. Until now.
Spencer was still talking, chatting away happily about his life. A few parts slipped through, that she was an artist as well, and enjoyed the same things he did. He mentioned the car seat in passing before chuckling and falling silent, some corny joke that slipped past me while I wallowed in my misery.
Is this me? Is this what I am now? An emotional wreck that can't function? I rub my eyes and shake it all away before it consumes me. Now isn't the time or place. I hardly noticed that the car had stopped outside an apartment building, or that the first droplets of rain had smacked onto the windshield.
"Little late," I mumble to myself.
Maybe the city wasn't as responsive as I remembered. It was awkward as I climbed out of the car, dragging the numb mass that was my body to my feet. He'd already made his way to the trunk, my duffel in his hand as he shuts the lid. He has an awkward smile on his face.
"Mel lives up on the third floor. Or is it the fourth... no. I was right, it's the third. Right?" He looks at me expectantly.
"How would I know?" I shrug a good shoulder and he stares for a moment and nods, understanding how stupid his question was.
It wasn't a long trek up to the third floor and down the hall a few times as he struggled to remember the right room but the silence made it last a lifetime. He would check over his shoulder every now and then to see that I'm still there, to see that I wasn't some weird dream. And after a while he stops at one and tries the key, laughing as the door unlocks and opens in, almost glowing with a weird pride in himself.
It's not a big apartment, but it's nice. The walls a clean blue and the carpet an off-white and furniture with the same scheme. Small stains here and there from a lifetime of accidents. There's a worn out couch and a television and other electronics around I either ignore or don't recognize. The walls lined with pictures and shelves of trinkets.
Spencer steps to the right, into the kitchen: a row of silver appliances on the counter leading to an old fridge with an island as a table a few feet out. He sets the duffel down and steps to a shelf over the television on the far wall.
"I've never been in here," he says finally, picking up a picture and smiling, holding it up. "This is from that time we all went to the beach together. I remember Freddie had a crab crawl up his trunks. The day ended in the hospital." He laughs as he sets it down.
I remember it too, it was a great day. Even if it wasn't all that warm and nobody swam, we all had fun. And I almost smile when I think about how fun it was to tease Freddie about the swelling after that.
I sigh quietly and step to the duffel on the island. I don't know if I can do this, I decide. It's harder than I expected to simply be reminded of this, let alone live it and it's still my first day. I open the bag, digging through for a moment before the bottle of pills I don't like taking floats into my hand. The ones for my disorder. I take a moment to stare blankly at the bottle when he pipes up again.
"And this one was from my wedding. That was a great night. The best one, actually. Gibby fell on the cake and then ate most of it, Kaley didn't understand why it was funny, but we all laughed. And Freddie messed up and put a picture of him posing for his company calendar in the slideshow. Melanie had to pull all the wires out because it kept showing the picture over and over again. And Carly... Carly was like an angel. The only time she stopped crying was to toast us and to sing after everyone took advantage of the bar, but still an angel. But now, no matter how amazing that moment was, I can't help but wonder what it would have been like if you were there. I think it would have been better than I can imagine." His voice cracks a little as I pop open the lid and take a few pills, not sure what things will be like in a few hours.
It's like he found the knife lodged in my heart and is twisting it without even knowing what it does. I see him look at me as he puts the picture back on the shelf. His eyes are curious to the bottle but he keeps silent as he steps around the couch and back into the kitchen, focusing on the duffel as he gets closer. It's not long before he moves part of the bag and stares, brows furrowed.
"That's a sword," he says matter-of-factually. I nod as he touches the hilt, running a finger over the gold.
"We all get them after a while." He doesn't really hear me as all he does is mutter to himself that it's a sword. "Hey, Spence... it's been a long day and I need to unpack..." I can't say the rest. If I do I won't be able to lie to myself that I'm not kicking him out.
"Yeah, yeah. Any... it's really good to have you back. I mean it." His voice is shaky and slow, but he sets the key on the island and steps back, but it's only a moment before he steps up and hugs me. Not like the first, no excitement or energy. Just warm emotion and kindness. He steps back and smiles, nodding as he steps out. A minute passes as I stare at the door. The knife still twisting after he left.
"I wish you hadn't meant it." I stare at the table a while before digging into the bag and pulling out the picture of me and my team, as well as John's tags. My eyes wander to the wedding photo, and I can see her from here. The long dress with hair over her shoulder and a beautiful smile on her lips. "She always was..." I mutter, the knife sinking deeper till it can't go any further. "Like an angel."