Chapter 25

The couch at Catrine's was a lot different than the couch at Rochelle's. The DeMew house was out in the country, so there wasn't...any noise whatsoever. I couldn't even hear the bugs while we were inside. I could hear people moving around until they weren't, then I had to put on the TV quietly. After about three hours of some French hospital soap opera, I figured I was picking up the basics and tried to go to sleep, except I couldn't. I just couldn't. I flicked off the TV, but that wasn't helping. It took maybe five minutes to end me up in Manny's room. It might've been Thursday at two-fifty-four, but he was fully awake. I tried to figure out where everything changed and my best friend became my arch enemy, where Manny took his place and then grew up along the way. Seriously, all I could think about was how it was two-fifty-four AM and Manny Taur was sitting at his laptop, actually doing schoolwork and not watching porn. If we were in high school...

I sat on his bed. Maybe I didn't know him that well. I stared at the back of his head until he turned around. He was picking up on Catrine's habits; he had this asinine little smirk on his face like he knew exactly why I was there, just like she did. Difference being, it was cute on her.
"You know like half the people we went to school with have blogs now?" he commented. "Nothing changed. Just our location."

I was almost interested, but I still felt cold. I didn't even know what I'd done to make her angry. I'd just...I think I tried to hug her. We were both past consolable anyway. Manny kept on, though. I think he knew I needed a distraction. "Anyway, most of the chicks do. Gory made some offhand comment on a post that didn't have a lot of fame to it yet and people got on her last night. I may not have been buddies with her or anything, but dude. That was just low. She's taking it pretty well, though. Cleo's going on about how there's no such thing as bad press, yadda yadda...Frankie's posting that fifty-years-of-MLK stuff." He turned in his chair and looked at me, smirking a lot more widely than he had been before. "It's literally the exact same as it was when we were in school."

I shrugged and let myself fall over in bed. Ugh. I didn't want to acknowledge how nice it was to sleep in a bed, but man was it nice. He said something I barely caught, like "you do know there is another guest room" or something. I closed my eyes and buried my face into the sheets. I guess I fell asleep, because he left me alone for a while, and I was only slightly aware of time passing. I did get nudged aside, though, and as awkward as it should've been, I woke up next to Manny with a pillow jammed hopelessly between the two of us to keep us on respective sides. It had been beaten down several times already and I let it get crushed under his bulk as I moved.

I got up, used the bathroom and found myself migrating all over. It wasn't even sunrise, but I was more awake than I had been in weeks. Mr. DeMew's room was the only one with the door actually closed. I paused outside of Catrine's to justify any kind of wandering in. Listening for a moment, I didn't have to. I peeked in to find Rochelle tossing in her sleep on the day bed unfolded in the center of her room. Christ, while Manny had a room, Catrine had an entire apartment. I walked over silently and nudged her. She flinched. Against my better judgement, I dropped myself onto the soft purple cushions and put my arms around her. She folded into me, her fingers clenching in my shirt and face buried in my shoulder. It was only when I laid my face against her neck that I realized I woke her with the initial nudge, and she was letting me get away with things now.

"I'm sorry," she finally murmured. Once the silence was broken, there was no going back. Her best friend was a werecat and sleeping maybe five feet away; she would definitely hear every word. I nodded, sparing myself for privacy as much as I could, but she didn't speak again. "I am too," I murmured against the hollow of her throat. She ran her fingers through my hair slowly, locking them there momentarily. "Granite...it will be okay. I will be okay, I just...don't know how."

I shrugged, "Time." Even though time screwed everybody, it would eventually stop screwing us long enough to help us heal. Her nose pressed gently against the inside of my neck and I ran my fingers softly through her hair. We shifted positions only slightly so I could hold her comfortably in my arms. I traced her hair down to the curly ends, winding them softly around my finger. She laid against me exhaustedly. That was probably where we both were- in a state of mental and emotional exhaustion. There wasn't any real mourning left to be done since we had done so much of it together. It didn't even feel like we should've still been capable of it without him; he was the one who really had something to complain about.

I rubbed my eyes and shifted onto my back. Her fingers tightened in my shirt. "Granite...I want to go back to Salem."

I couldn't say I was entirely surprised, the thought had crossed my mind before too. Back home where we belonged...or kind of belonged. I propped my head up on my elbow and looked down at her, "Why don't we just go?"

She looked up at me in confusion.

"Go," I pressed, "Somewhere. Anywhere. Not here and not Salem."

She looked at me sadly. The plans we'd had for so long felt so...belittled. I wrapped my arms more tightly around her body and pressed her close. More than willingly, she tucked her head under my chin and nestled her warm, sweet-smelling skin against my shirt. "I don't know if I can promise you that."

I shrugged. "I didn't ask for one."

...

It was kind of all I had, and even then it wasn't much. I sat on the floor of the bedroom where Garrot and I had spent the last few months, and I couldn't bring myself to take his bed. It was still his. Rochelle was still his. This family was still his, his car, his life. It was as if I had just been thrust into it like the guy who played spider-man in that movie when he was transported into his TV. I couldn't bring myself to get up off the floor. His parents couldn't bring themselves to come uphold their promise. At least Rochelle had brought herself to stop crying. It was a collective sigh of relief and understanding that she had spent the past six months grieving over Garrot, and maybe she wasn't going to heal right away, but she was going to stop crying. So that left me to me. Manny and Catrine had lives to continue on with; they could grieve, but not like her. I didn't even know how I planned on doing it myself, I didn't really know how.

I compared his clothes to mine. The places where he had worn them well didn't show as well for him. It was a very white collar life. I didn't know why I was just noticing it. I didn't know why I decided that now, I wanted to notice the title of every book on the shelves and every channel he had been watching. My fingers ran over his nice shirts; the arms were too narrow for my own. The only thing I allowed myself to do was sink onto the edge of his bed the way I had. Was his blood still on it? How about his smell? I couldn't sleep in this bed. I could hardly sleep in Rochelle's.

"Do you have a suit?"

She interrupted my thoughts as if nothing was wrong. Either she was in denial, or she had finally cracked, but I proved myself wrong. Her eyes were red-rimmed again, and that got me up. She crossed the floor to my closet and rifled through my clothes. I got up slowly, "You...have a dress?"

She nodded slowly. My arms wound around her waist. I sighed, propping my chin on her head, "Roxy...are you okay?"

She didn't meet my eyes, only ran her fingers softly over one of my shirts. Releasing the sleeve in her grasp, she turned and pressed her face into my chest. Away from them, away from everything but me, she fell apart like a broken vase put together with edible glue. "Make it stop," she murmured. Her tears left dark spots on the fabric between us. I gave her a supportive squeeze, "I wish I knew how. I really do."

A/N- I am really sorry that this is short and took forever to write today. I'm really, really tired. Please forgive me, it's been an exhausting week.