I took my time going down the stairs, forgetfully letting my wounded hand
slide down the banister.
"Fuck..." I hissed quietly to myself, as I entered the den.
I had about four hours to kill before I could go see Luke so I did the only thing any red-blooded American teenage boy would have done in a time like this... I played videogames.
I walked over to the television where my Playstation 2 was already setup. I turned the volume all the way down and positioned myself directly in front of the TV. I turned the system on and I swear I could feel my pupils dilate.
Oh, how I loved Grand Theft Auto. It definitely did a great job taking my mind off things and before I knew it, four minutes of killing whores and beating up innocent by-standers became four hours.
I turned the television off and shut down Ps2. I stood up from the floor with a grunt, and the sound of my own back cracking loudly nearly made me jump.
I eventually learned to block out the constant groaning of my stomach and the pain of it was starting to go unnoticeable to me.
I walked out of the den and toward the kitchen where I turned the coffeemaker on. I really did love coffee. The warmth running throughout my body always gave me this safe feeling like I had all the positive spiritual figures watching my back... kind of like how I feel with Ryan... or felt with Ryan.
I sighed as all the events from the last 48 hours came flooding back to me. It was funny how I tried tricking myself into believing nothing had happened, and that nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong.
The blinking light on the coffeemaker informing me that the coffee was ready yanked me away from my thoughts. I made my way over to the coffeemaker, where I poured myself a nice big cup. I leaned up against the counter, and thought of how I could get myself over to Luke's.
Well, now that wasn't three am I could probably go over to Marissa's and get his number from her... or a ride...
Does begging sound better in person?
Was Marissa even awake?
It was Saturday. Some people, like me, enjoy getting up early to watch cartoons, or do.... other early-type things, right? Sure, they do!
I took a big swig of coffee, set the mug down on the table, and started for the door. I turned the knob, and walked out, shutting the door behind me. I stopped for a moment, and watched the sun come up. Summer and I did that a lot... we'd watch the sunrise every Friday and Saturday. She wasn't there now though. I looked away quickly, and jogged down the driveway over to Marissa's house.
I scratched the back of my head as I approached her doorstep, and froze when I heard shouting. I didn't want to listen but it sounded pretty bad. I couldn't exactly make out words but I could tell it was Marissa... and I could tell she was frantic... something was very wrong. I almost wanted to barge in and see what all the fuss was about but I didn't. Instead, I knocked on the door and twisted my shirt as I waited for a response... if any.
The door swung open, and a distressed Marissa stood in the frame.
"What's wrong?" I asked, pulling my hands away from my now crinkled shirt.
"Luke was drunk last night and he got into an accident." She said quickly with a sniffle at the end, closed the door, and hurriedly walked toward her car.
In some weird way I felt responsible. I guess I didn't exactly assume he had been drinking last night, seeing that he was on his way home after dropping off his smashed polo buddy. I must have been so caught up in myself and my own problems that I didn't notice if he were drunk or not. Thinking back on it, he seemed fine. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Marissa about my encounter with Luke last night but I didn't.
"Is he in the hospital?" I asked idiotically.
I mean, she wouldn't have been so upset if he had just gotten a little bump on the head, right?
She nodded her head once to my question, and started to unlock the car door.
"Are, are you going to see him?" I asked, standing right behind her.
"Yes." She told me, and got in, starting the engine up.
I quickly ran around to the other side, and hopped into the passenger seat, while the car started backing out of the driveway. She stopped and looked at me for a moment, yet, she didn't protest.
I wondered why she was so upset about Luke. Sure, they dated for a couple years and I guess they were still friends but somehow it felt like it was more then that. She was terrified like if he wasn't alright she wouldn't know what to do with herself. Then again, she did call my parents when she was worried about me. I never realized she was that big on friendship.
We got to Newport General pretty quickly, a lot faster then we did when I broke my arm. We made our way inside, immediately meeting up with Luke's parents in the waiting room. Marissa hugged his mother tightly, and I kind of felt like I didn't belong there at all.
"How's he doing?" Marissa asked his parents, and by the behavior of Luke's mom, who was sobbing uncontrollably, it seemed like he was dead and buried.
"He's still in surgery." Luke's father told us, calmly, while Luke's mother paced the cold hospital floors, a Rosary clutched in her hands.
Luke was Catholic?
I rubbed the back of my head nervously, the cast chafing my neck. Luke's mother abruptly stopped directly in front of me, grabbed the arm at my side, and placed the Rosary inside my hand, folding my fingers over tightly... almost painfully. I looked down at it, then back to her, her complexion as white as snow.
I was speechless, and I believed she sensed my guilt, as slight as it was. She looked straight into my eyes, as she squeezed my hand more and more, her nails digging into my flesh.
I could feel everyone watching us, and Luke's dad finally approached us, grabbing her hands, calmly trying to loosen her unwavering clinch. She let go suddenly, and passed out cold into his father's arms. I just stood there, as nurses flocked to her limp body.
"Seth, what- are you alright?" Marissa asked confused.
"I have to go." I told her, never taking my eyes off his mother.
"I'll take you home, okay?" She assured me, and she did.
"Fuck..." I hissed quietly to myself, as I entered the den.
I had about four hours to kill before I could go see Luke so I did the only thing any red-blooded American teenage boy would have done in a time like this... I played videogames.
I walked over to the television where my Playstation 2 was already setup. I turned the volume all the way down and positioned myself directly in front of the TV. I turned the system on and I swear I could feel my pupils dilate.
Oh, how I loved Grand Theft Auto. It definitely did a great job taking my mind off things and before I knew it, four minutes of killing whores and beating up innocent by-standers became four hours.
I turned the television off and shut down Ps2. I stood up from the floor with a grunt, and the sound of my own back cracking loudly nearly made me jump.
I eventually learned to block out the constant groaning of my stomach and the pain of it was starting to go unnoticeable to me.
I walked out of the den and toward the kitchen where I turned the coffeemaker on. I really did love coffee. The warmth running throughout my body always gave me this safe feeling like I had all the positive spiritual figures watching my back... kind of like how I feel with Ryan... or felt with Ryan.
I sighed as all the events from the last 48 hours came flooding back to me. It was funny how I tried tricking myself into believing nothing had happened, and that nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong.
The blinking light on the coffeemaker informing me that the coffee was ready yanked me away from my thoughts. I made my way over to the coffeemaker, where I poured myself a nice big cup. I leaned up against the counter, and thought of how I could get myself over to Luke's.
Well, now that wasn't three am I could probably go over to Marissa's and get his number from her... or a ride...
Does begging sound better in person?
Was Marissa even awake?
It was Saturday. Some people, like me, enjoy getting up early to watch cartoons, or do.... other early-type things, right? Sure, they do!
I took a big swig of coffee, set the mug down on the table, and started for the door. I turned the knob, and walked out, shutting the door behind me. I stopped for a moment, and watched the sun come up. Summer and I did that a lot... we'd watch the sunrise every Friday and Saturday. She wasn't there now though. I looked away quickly, and jogged down the driveway over to Marissa's house.
I scratched the back of my head as I approached her doorstep, and froze when I heard shouting. I didn't want to listen but it sounded pretty bad. I couldn't exactly make out words but I could tell it was Marissa... and I could tell she was frantic... something was very wrong. I almost wanted to barge in and see what all the fuss was about but I didn't. Instead, I knocked on the door and twisted my shirt as I waited for a response... if any.
The door swung open, and a distressed Marissa stood in the frame.
"What's wrong?" I asked, pulling my hands away from my now crinkled shirt.
"Luke was drunk last night and he got into an accident." She said quickly with a sniffle at the end, closed the door, and hurriedly walked toward her car.
In some weird way I felt responsible. I guess I didn't exactly assume he had been drinking last night, seeing that he was on his way home after dropping off his smashed polo buddy. I must have been so caught up in myself and my own problems that I didn't notice if he were drunk or not. Thinking back on it, he seemed fine. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Marissa about my encounter with Luke last night but I didn't.
"Is he in the hospital?" I asked idiotically.
I mean, she wouldn't have been so upset if he had just gotten a little bump on the head, right?
She nodded her head once to my question, and started to unlock the car door.
"Are, are you going to see him?" I asked, standing right behind her.
"Yes." She told me, and got in, starting the engine up.
I quickly ran around to the other side, and hopped into the passenger seat, while the car started backing out of the driveway. She stopped and looked at me for a moment, yet, she didn't protest.
I wondered why she was so upset about Luke. Sure, they dated for a couple years and I guess they were still friends but somehow it felt like it was more then that. She was terrified like if he wasn't alright she wouldn't know what to do with herself. Then again, she did call my parents when she was worried about me. I never realized she was that big on friendship.
We got to Newport General pretty quickly, a lot faster then we did when I broke my arm. We made our way inside, immediately meeting up with Luke's parents in the waiting room. Marissa hugged his mother tightly, and I kind of felt like I didn't belong there at all.
"How's he doing?" Marissa asked his parents, and by the behavior of Luke's mom, who was sobbing uncontrollably, it seemed like he was dead and buried.
"He's still in surgery." Luke's father told us, calmly, while Luke's mother paced the cold hospital floors, a Rosary clutched in her hands.
Luke was Catholic?
I rubbed the back of my head nervously, the cast chafing my neck. Luke's mother abruptly stopped directly in front of me, grabbed the arm at my side, and placed the Rosary inside my hand, folding my fingers over tightly... almost painfully. I looked down at it, then back to her, her complexion as white as snow.
I was speechless, and I believed she sensed my guilt, as slight as it was. She looked straight into my eyes, as she squeezed my hand more and more, her nails digging into my flesh.
I could feel everyone watching us, and Luke's dad finally approached us, grabbing her hands, calmly trying to loosen her unwavering clinch. She let go suddenly, and passed out cold into his father's arms. I just stood there, as nurses flocked to her limp body.
"Seth, what- are you alright?" Marissa asked confused.
"I have to go." I told her, never taking my eyes off his mother.
"I'll take you home, okay?" She assured me, and she did.