FYI: This is not the last chapter. I know I said in the beginning it would end at eight chapters, but since then the storyline has changed and lengthened a bit.

o o o o o o o

I got shitfaced. I've always been hopelessly uncreative like that. I could have chased after the woman I loved, made some cheesy speech and given her cheesy red roses and sworn I couldn't go on living without her. Or I could have stayed home and had mad hot barely-legal sex with my brother's slut girlfriend. I could have, at the very least, gone and sat under a willow tree and smoked a joint and communed with the spirits while I sorted out my thoughts or some hippie shit like that. But no, I've always been a simple guy, and so after storming out of my own house, I quite simply went to the Broken Dollar and drank myself into a stupor. And after the manager kicked me out, I called Clint, and we went back to his apartment where I continued to drink myself stupid. I stayed shitfaced for three whole days, swimming through an ever-deepening abyss of sad, sad thoughts.

I was tired of feeling. Tired of thinking. Most of all, tired of being Tracker Cameron. I tried so hard, through the waterfalls of alcohol pouring through my head, to think of one solitary thing worth living for. I drew a blank. My whole life was like that. One big blank space, waiting to be filled. Waiting for the gun to go off and the real game to begin. I felt like I was just floating around in limbo, attached to nothing and no one, with prospects of nothing better on the horizon. My life was still waiting to be lived, and I didn't want to be the one to live it.

I wanted Wendy. I wanted it to be one of those Saturday mornings where I'd lie in bed with her and eat Frosted Flakes. She'd put on the Rolling Stones or Bowie or Todd Rungren, the vinyl albums she loved so much, and we'd talk about the water bill and Charles Bukowski and the movie we saw last weekend. It seemed like we never ran out of things to talk about together. I wondered why I now had so much trouble thinking of things to say in conversation. It was like things were only interesting when Wendy was around. Like things only meant anything when Wendy was around.

Why was it that I only understood these things when it was too late?

Now I was nowhere again, living for nothing the way I'd always done before I met her. Even Sean, the only thing that had once vaguely given my life purpose, now seemed out of my reach. I'd always tried to entertain the idea that I could teach him a thing or two, give him the kind of advice Mom and Dad had been too wasted to give, make his walk of life a little smoother than mine had been. But I hadn't done any of that, had I? Sean's life was just as fucked up as mine and no matter what I did, I couldn't save him from the Cameron fate.

Forever is such an empty word. I thought I'd been married to Wendy forever; thought I'd been taking care of Sean forever; thought I'd been a man in this world forever. But when three days drunk in Clint and Phil's apartment felt like forever, I began to realize that I'd barely even scratched the surface of what forever really was. I was only twenty-four. Twenty-four, and I'd already lost everything I'd ever given a shit about. I was over before I'd even begun. When you looked at it like that, God it was pathetic.

It was on the morning of the third day that my body finally said, "Jesus FUCK, Tracker," and crashed. I slept for forever, I guess, and let my thoughts untangle themselves in my dreams. I woke up sometime before dusk and lie on Clint's bed-less mattress, watching the sun sink slowly and thinking to myself, God, where the fuck do I go from here?

And wouldn't you know, I heard her voice. I thought I was imagining shit at first, but as I listened for a few minutes longer I knew there was no mistaking it. She was laughing in the next room.

I soon found myself on my feet, still a little dizzy, stumbling into the living room. Phil was sitting in an orange plastic chair, hunched over his wobbly coffee table and laughing as he did a line of speed. On the couch opposite of him sat two familiar teenagers. One of them was Nameless Blonde Yuppie, who had come a long way down hill since I'd seen him last. The curls and pookah shells were but a faded memory, and in their place sat a greasy, black-clad, emo skeeve. Beside him, looking just as dark and complicated as always, was Ellie.

"Ah, crap," I mumbled tiredly, rubbing the exhaustion from my face.

"Oh," said Ellie, smiling nervously. "You're awake now."

"Yeah. I'm awake now. What the fuck are you doing here?" I took a step forward, finding it a little hard to maintain my balance, and smacked Phil across the back of the head. "And what the fuck are you doing with speed? You know these two little shits are minors, don't you?" Patience, at this point in time, was not my strong point.

Phil looked up at me with a mischievious but innocent smile. A little kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "It's cool, man." He waved his hands fluidly through the air, using his hand-motions to somehow assure me that it was in fact cool. "This is Spinner, man, my sister's boyfriend. He deals for me sometimes. And this... this is the one.. you know... with the hair..." He motioned vaguely in Ellie's direction before shrugging and forgetting was he was talking about completely. I might have been pissed if I didn't have such an ungodly headache.

Exhaustedly, I looked over at Ellie. "Why are you here?" It was hard to look her in the eye.

She tugged at her sleeves and shifted her eyes downward, that oh-so-familiar nervous habit of hers. Strands of red and black slipped in front of her face and blocked her eyes from view. "I ran into Spinner at school yesterday, he said he'd seen you here. I thought I should come check on you. Sean's worried."

I breathed. She was pulling the Sean card, knowing that it was the only guilt strong enough to eat through my steel walls of apathy. I mean, if left to my own devices, how much longer could I have stayed in that black hole, feeling sorry for myself? Forever. But when I thought of Sean, it was hard to be numb. He was strong and independent and he acted like he didn't need me, but underneath this battle between us, he was still vulnerable. He was still my little brother. I still couldn't walk away from him. Sean made me... give a shit. He made me feel, even when I didn't want to anymore.

I looked at Ellie, a cruel reminder of the reality that waited outside for me, as she waited perched on the couch expectantly. I combed my fingers through my sweat-tangled hair and exhaled heavily. "Yeah," I said. "Yeah, all right. I guess we'd better head home."

She raised her eyebrows and remained frozen for a moment, a look on her face that clearly said, "Wow, that was easy." But after a moment's pause she simply accepted it and nodded, grabbing the set of car keys that rested right beside Phil's pile of speed. She waved to Spinner and turned for the door. I trailed behind her, slowly clearing my head and drifting back into a state of full-consciousness.

"Hey, kid," I said to Spinner before following Ellie out the door. I pointed towards Phil, who was quickly becoming spun out of this world. "Make sure he doesn't go anywhere. Or do anything stupid." Spinner glanced at Phil, then looked back at me with a resoundingly blank face before finally nodding with a shrug.

The sky was quickly fading from lavender to deep blue as I slid into the passenger's seat of Ellie's car. Moody girl music seeped through the stereo as she drove away from Clint and Phil's apartment. I tapped on the arm rest uneasily.

"Can I smoke in here?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," she said.

Suprisingly warm air met my face as I rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. Sweet carbon monoxide hit my lungs and slowly put my mind in a clearer, more comfortable state. I found myself staring at the series of rips and holes in Ellie's jeans, remembering those same legs wrapped around me.

"Jesus Christ," I laughed softly.

"What?" said Ellie, not taking her eyes from the road. She was either a very cautious driver or she didn't want to look at me. Ellie didn't strike me as cautious.

I shrugged. I didn't know where to begin. I exhaled a stream of cigarette smoke and watched it dance out the window. "I wish you'd leave, Ellie." I was never good with subtlety. "I've got too much to deal with right now and I can't handle you on top of it all."

She was silent for a moment, carefully chewing her thoughts. "I don't have anywhere to go," she said. I couldn't tell if it was a statement or a question.

"Yeah, I know. I heard. Am I supposed to feel sorry for you or something? I mean, I know I can be a dick, but I'm not being totally unreasonable here. I've been trying real hard to muster up some sympathy or something, but you're not really throwing me a bone here. I mean, what the fuck? The other day you were like, all over me, which was really fucked up by the way, and today you were huddled around a pile of speed and making nice with that blonde douchebag I already caught you with once. You're a whore and you're giving my little brother the shaft. Can you give me one good reason why I should let you live in my house?"

She sighed, clutching the steering wheel, and looked at me. Doll eyes, sad smile. She shrugged. "I don't have anywhere to go."

We rode the rest of the way without speaking.

She pulled up in front of the duplex, into that same spot where I'd come so accostomed to seeing her beat-up car sitting. She put the car in park but didn't cut off the ignition. We sat unmoving, contemplating one another's silence, listening to the motor idling and the stereo on low.

"If you really want me to leave, I'll leave," she said, popping her rubber band and not meaning a word she was saying.

I didn't really want her to leave. But I really needed her to. I didn't say anything.

She took my silence as an opportunity to continue, to plead her case and save her ass. "But I mean, I haven't been cheating on Sean..." I started to shake my head and laugh in disbelief, but she cut me off. "I haven't. Spinner and I were just a thing like, forever ago, when Sean and I were having some problems, and then he got with Manny and we broke it off. I haven't been with anyone since then. And I haven't been stoned since the night you found me, either. And I know I still cut and I know it freaks you out but I'm trying I swear..."

"Ellie," I said. I took the last drag of my cigarette and flicked the butt out the window. I rolled the window back up and sighed, rubbing my temple, pooling my thoughts. "It isn't about that. I mean, you're a messed up kid, but when it really comes down to it, do you think I give a fuck about any of that shit you do? No. What this is about is what happened the other day."

She had a stunned kind of look in her eyes, searchlight hitting a prisoner just as they tried to jump the wall. "I... didn't mean to kiss you." She tucked her hair behind her ear and put her hands in her lap. "I didn't know what to say or do so I just... It was an accident."

Things like that were never accidents. Mistakes, maybe, but never accidents. No one ever kisses without thinking, without purpose. "I don't care what it was. It was stupid and it was weird and it can't happen again. It's too weird for me, Ellie. For once in my life I want to aim for something vaguely resembling normal, you know?" I found myself instinctively reaching for another cigarette, my head growing heavy with the usual burden of exhaustion and frustration. I turned to her with eyes that were sincere and pleading. I'm sure she was used to me giving her orders all the time, but this was the first time I held before her an honest request. "Can we please just try for normal? Can you help me out here? Please?"

Ellie nodded weakly. "Okay."

We left the car and went into the house. Sean was at the kitchen table, eating store-brand Fruit Loops and scratching away with pen and paper. He looked up briefly, rolled his eyes and chuckled coldly, then went back to what he was doing. While Ellie strategically slipped into her room, a sanctuary from the storm that was about to erupt, I trudged into the kitchen and sat in the seat beside my brother. He had no reaction to my presence.

"Whatcha working on?" I asked.

"Chemistry," he answered.

I nodded as I pulled the ash tray on the table closer to me. "Sounds like a bitch." I'd dropped out before I'd ever gotten to Chemistry. "You know you always surprise me, Sean."

"Really? Because you never surprise me." He was trying so hard not to look at me. Nobody could pull off the cold shoulder the way Sean could. When he was mad at you, you felt it all through your body. He was ice. I guess that was the trade-off, though, for dealing with his anger problems. Instead of exploding like he used to, he kept it inside, refined it, isolated its potency into a few carefully-calculated blows.

I sighed as I placed my cigarette into one of the nooks of the amber ash tray. I walked to the cupboard to get a bowl and helped myself to what were apparently called Fruity-Os, then rejoined my brother at our worn kitchen table. I stared into the swirling pool of milk and colored rings, soaking in Sean's icy silence, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Things are really fucked up right now," I said, scooping the cold cereal into my spoon.

Sean exhaled, buying himself a moment to think. He was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to open the door to me. "When are they not?"

"Not always." I swallowed a mouthful of Fruity-Os, letting their not-quite-Fruit-Loops aftertaste coat the inside of my mouth. "I mean, life's hard... but not like this. I can deal with alot, Sean, but I can't deal with this. I feel like my life is falling apart."

Sean set down his pen and looked at me with his uncertain, unfeeling eyes. My wounds were completely visible now. The truth was naked in the wind, plain as day before us. Everything that had been true about Sean and I in the past was now in reverse. He was the tough one, the unreadable one, the one who let the hurting roll off him like water. I was the one who didn't know up from down. It only took me saying it out loud to realize it.

After the silence had played out, Sean smiled. "You might start feeling better if you bought some better cereal, man." He reached out and picked up the box, laughing at the rainbow cartoon bird that I'm sure in no way was a rip-off of Toucan Sam. "I mean, what the fuck is this?"

"Hey, fuck you, man. I don't see your paycheck dishing out Fruit Loop money..."

And for awhile there, everything was normal. We laughed, we called each other names, we ate cheap cereal. Sometimes, when the world is crumbling, that's all you can do.