Disclaimer: The OC and its characters belong to Schwartz & Co.
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Chapter TwoThis is the last place I want to be. Sitting on the wall outside the strip mall, waiting on Trey. The liquor store's the only business that's still open. It's dark. And it has to be after 10:00 already, so he's late. But, Trey's always late. Reliability isn't exactly his greatest character trait. Not that he has many great character traits. Or any.
It wasn't always this way. He wasn't always this way. He used to look out for me. When we were kids. When I was always in his shadow. Always trying to do what he did. When I wanted to be just like him. And who wouldn't? Because he was smart. He was cool. He was tough. He was funny. He was all those things.
He would run interference for me. Not just with Mom. But, with Dad, too. And that was crazy. But he wasn't crazy. Not like now. He was just looking out for me. Because he could. Even though he was afraid. Because I was more afraid. He was my big brother. He was responsible for me. And I depended on him. And he liked that I depended on him. And I liked that I depended on him. And he never let me down. Not once. Not ever.
Then, suddenly, one day, he just wasn't. Only it wasn't suddenly. And it wasn't one day. Not really. But for me it was. Because when he left he'd been Trey. And when he came back, he wasn't Trey. Or the old Trey. Or the only Trey I knew. Only, it's been so long. This is the only Trey I know. And this Trey isn't smart. He isn't cool. He isn't tough. He isn't funny.
He still acts tough. He still acts cool. Does all the right things. Says all the right things. Has all the right mannerisms. Fools most of the people most of the time. Mom even. She doesn't have a fucking clue that something's different. She just thinks that smart and cool and tough and funny has turned to mean and dangerous and fucked up. But only because it's in his blood. Because he's an Atwood. But not because of something she's done. Or not done.
Because it's her fault. She's the one who couldn't keep it fucking together. Couldn't keep herself fucking together. But she's a fucking train wreck. And even though it's her fault, she couldn't handle it if she knew that she's the one who fucked him up. The one who killed him. Because she is. And because she did. And because he is. Dead. Even though he's still walking around. But he isn't. Not really. Because he isn't Trey. He's just—he's just the thing that Trey's become.
And it sucks. Because I miss him. I hate what he's become. I hate what we've become. I hate this. I hate that I'm sitting on this cold fucking wall at 10:00 at night waiting for fucking Trey to show up. Because he's going to want to do something fucking stupid. Or illegal. Or both. Because that's what Trey does. And I don't want to go with him. But I do. And I will.
Because there's no other way. Because I can't not go with him. Because I can't tell him that I know. Because I do. And because I don't. Because he's never said anything. And I've never asked. And I don't want to know. And at least if he hasn't said anything, I don't have to know. Even if I do. And I do. And he knows that I do. And it scares him. And it scares me. Because I'm the only one who knows. Even if I don't know. Even if he's never told me. Because it's there. It's this great big fucking pink neon elephant taking up the entire room. And we both ignore it. Even as we suck in our guts and press ourselves against the wall so as not to touch it. We just ignore it. Because if we ignore it, it'll go away. Even though it won't. And it won't. Because it hasn't. And it's been seven fucking years. And we ought to name the fucking elephant and start a college fund for it. Because it's not going anywhere.
And where the fuck is he? I just want to go home. But I won't. Because I told him I'd be here. And if I'm not—then it's just me, not trusting in him. Not wanting to walk in his shadow. Because I don't. I don't trust him and I don't want to walk in his shadow. But he can't know that. Even though he does. So I sit here freezing my ass off when I would have left long ago if I was waiting for anyone else. Even though I'd rather be waiting for anyone else.
Trey is so much like Dad. He's become so much like Dad. Mom thinks he was always like Dad. But he wasn't. But maybe Dad used to be like Trey. Not this Trey. The other Trey. Maybe he used to be smart and cool and tough and funny. Because he isn't. And he wasn't. And I've never known him to be. But maybe he was. Once. And I don't want to think about Dad. I don't want to think about Trey. But, I'm still waiting for Trey. I wish my mind could go blank. Like I think Trey's mind can go blank. But my mind doesn't work that way. So I can't…not…think about him.
Or about what happened. But not that. What happened after. After Mom came to get me. After she had to pick me up downtown because of what had happened. Because I was in a cast. Because my arm had been broken. And I'd had my ass kicked. And because I wouldn't talk about it. And Mom, acting all pissed off. Making a scene. Yelling at everyone. Like she had any right to be pissed off. And that pissed me off. It embarrassed me. And she just kept acting like that. And she took me home and made all sorts of bullshit promises.
How could she not fucking see it?! When they brought Trey home. How could she not see that he was broken? Or that he couldn't be fixed. Was it because there was no cast? Or was it because she didn't want to see it? Because I saw it. Because it was so fucking obvious that she couldn't have not seen it. But she didn't. Or she wouldn't. And that's not right. Because she's his mom. She should have done something. He needed her to do something. But she didn't. And I couldn't. And Trey is gone. And I still fucking miss him.
And here he is. Suddenly. Finally. So I get off the wall and I wait as he approaches. And I stuff my hands in my pockets because I'm fucking freezing.
"Hey, little bro."
"You're late."
"Yeah, well…" But he doesn't finish the thought. Instead, he leans closer. "AJ do all that?"
I don't really look at him. And I don't respond. Because I don't have to. Because he knows the answer. Because he was there. And he shouldn't have left. But he did. So he wasn't there for the crying and the yelling and the hitting and the blood. But he should have been.
"You got a smoke?" He reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes. He hands them to me. I extract the book of matches from the pack and I light a cigarette and inhale and keep the smoke in my lungs for as long as I can, till I have to exhale. And then I do. And I feel a little better. But not much. Trey's in no hurry. So he sits down, and puts his back to the wall. And I sit next to him. And we both draw our knees up in front of us. We both lean our heads back against the cinderblock. And Trey lights a cigarette. And in the brief flash of light from the match I notice that his lip is split.
"What happened to you?"
"I went by to see her." And I don't say that he should have stayed. Because he should have. But he knows he should have. And I briefly wonder if the elephant smokes. Because maybe I should offer the elephant a cigarette. Because it's here. Somehow. Impossibly stuffed into the small space between Trey and me. Even though our shoulders are almost touching. The fucking elephant is here. Because the fucking elephant is always here. And after a few seconds, Trey says. "AJ was there."
"AJ's always there." I glance at Trey out of the corner of my eye. Trey's looking down at his hand. And I let my eyes travel down to where he's looking. But it's dark. And I can't really see where he's looking, but he's holding his right hand funny. And I'm not positive, but I think I see a dark line running down the knuckle of his middle finger. And I'm not positive, but I think it's blood. And a small smile I didn't know was in me makes its way to my lips.
Trey's eyes travel to me. And he must see my smile. Because he flexes his hand. He winces. "I made sure I got in two good ones." And my smile grows a little. "Before he kicked my ass." And I actually laugh. And Trey continues. But he doesn't have to. Because I already know. But he says it anyway. "One for Mom and one for you."
And the elephant asks if he got a good one in for Trey. And I tell the elephant to fuck off, because I'm sitting here with my brother and there's no room for a fucking elephant. And I'm no longer cold. And I just want to sit here for a while. And so does Trey. And so we do.
