27 December
Where to start?
Brendan walks into the kitchen and sees a Amalia there, doing homework.
"What are you doing homework for? It's Christmas," he says, sitting down next to her. Since school let out for the holidays, homework has been the last thing on his mind. Not that recently, it's been on his mind much at all. Other things are clouding his vision.
"I'm a little behind," she admits. "So I got some extra credit work to do. Hopefully it can pull me up."
"Behind?" Brendan repeats.
"Band, work, everything."
"Everything" is code for "you, Brendan." He's the only thing that keeps her at the house. Well, not today, since her parents went to visit their future son-in-law's parents for the holiday, and she convinced them that she should stay. But why else would she do that, if it wasn't for him? As much as she likes his parents, she doesn't know them that well. She doesn't know them well enough to care this much about their needs.
He's been putting her through Hell on his own. He gets these ideas in his head and he drags her along. She probably just feels obligated to him. He hates the idea, but he really likes her. He wishes that he could make the situation better in his life, not just for the health of his parents, but to relieve the stress of this relationship.
Sometimes, he thinks, this isn't a relationship anymore. It's a job, and we're playing our parts.
Brendan gets the orange juice that he's after and goes back into his room. He wonders if this is what short-lived marriages feel like. What they feel like when they realize it's all been a mistake, because they just don't know each other well enough to make it. They can't say what they really mean (Not that Brendan has ever been very articulate) because they're to afraid of what the response might be. That saying it's over means moving on, even when this step was so quick. It's hard to let go of what you thought you always wanted.
Brendan thought once that he could be a baseball player. He thought once that he should join the ballet. Brendan, the Brendan writing this now, he doesn't think anymore. He doesn't know what he wants. There are only two thoughts in his mind, his father getting well, and Amalia.
In that order.
It's in these minutes when Brendan hears the call. The sound that could shatter his world.
"Call 911."
One word, three numbers. His stomach drops out, he suddenly can't move. He feels like his legs are moving through the mud as he walks to the door. His mother runs down the hall, he can see Amalia dialing the phone. He's stunned.
"Mom?" he says.
"Dad's having trouble breathing," she says. "Don't worry."
"You're calling 911. Dad can't breath. And I'm not supposed to worry?"
"Brendan," she says, and rushes back into his father's room.
He's useless. Brendan has found himself totally useless. The ambulance comes, and Mom leaves with Dad.
"What are we going to do?" Brendan asks. He and Amalia stand in the living room staring at each other.
"We need to get to the hospital," she says. "I'll call Ducky. My parents are still out of town."
She calls Ducky. The next thing Brendan remembers is sitting in the back seat of Ducky's car. Amalia is holding his hand. Ducky is driving. Justin is in the passenger seat.
"Are we almost there?" Brendan asks.
"Almost," Amalia replies.
The waiting room at the hospital is pretty empty. He looks around to the empty halls and tired receptionist. She tells us that we'll just have to wait.
"You can go home," Amalia says to Ducky.
"No," he says, "we can stay."
"You don't have to."
"You may need a ride home."
Brendan sits down.
"Are you okay?" Amalia asks. She sits down next to him and takes his hand. He pulls it away.
"I just... need to think," he says. It feels like a lie. He doesn't need to think, not when he can't. What he needs isn't someone asking him if things are okay, he needs someone to tell him things are going to be okay.
She pauses. "All right."
Ducky and Justin sit down across from them in another row of, though padded, highly uncomfortable chairs. The four of them sit in silence for what seems like hours, though is probably only a few minutes. Or maybe it is hours. Brendan will probably never be sure.
This is no way to spend the day after Christmas.
"Amalia," Brendan says, "we need to talk."
She looks up from the magazine she has been flipping through, but not reading. "Yeah?"
"I don't know if this is working out."
"Well, I think I need hot chocolate," Ducky says, jumping up.
"Me too," Justin says. They walk out of the waiting room, and Brendan can't help but notice that they leave holding hands and looking like the sort of couple that he and Amalia could probably never be.
Once they leave, Amalia turns to Brendan. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," he replies. "I don't think this, this you and me thing, I don't think it's working out."
"Why?" Her eyes are confused and Brendan feels a sting from putting them that way, but once this has started, he can't let it go.
"Because as much as I like you, you're the first person I met when I moved here, but I don't think you really feel the same way. I think you like having someone to fret over and to take care of, but... I don't think you really need a boyfriend for that."
She starts to say something, but he barrels on.
"I'm glad that I could be what you needed when you were getting out of a bad relationship. Maybe I just showed you that not every guy in the world was an asshole, but I don't think I'm what you're needing anymore. And if you think that you need to stay with me because of everything with Dad, you're wrong. Because, even though I threw you into crazy stuff that I just thought was a good idea, I'm okay. I'm dealing okay."
"I know you're okay," she says, not looking at him. Her eyes are on her hands. "And I do care about you."
"I never said you didn't. I think you could have better uses of your time. Maybe then, you wouldn't have to catch up on you work and just do it. All that everything won't be in your way."
Brendan feels like a weight has been lifted from him. A big, scary weight. He had spent so long worried that Amalia would leave him, that he can hardly believe that he's the one walking away.
"You're not in the way," she says, confirming that "everything" was him. He can hear tears in her voice and he looks at her to see that she's crying. Guy kicks in and he feels automatically guilty.
"Please don't cry," he says. "Please. Go find Ducky and Justin... have them take you home."
"There's no one at my house," she says.
Then, Brendan's mom comes down the hall. She looks at the two of them. "He's fine," she says. "He'll be fine. They're keeping him overnight, but he'll be fine." She blinks a few times. "How did you two get here?"
"Ducky drove us," Brendan says.
"Oh, well, have him drive you home. And thank him for me. I'm going to stay overnight with Dad and then we'll be home tomorrow, probably in the afternoon."
"Okay," he replies.
She leaves and Brendan and Amalia sit in the silence until Ducky and Justin come back into the room, peeking in warily beforehand. Amalia is still crying and Brendan is staring into his hands.
"We can go," Brendan says. "My dad's all right." Except for the fact that he has fucking lung cancer. No problem. It's all good.
They go to the car and because Amalia is still crying, Justin automatically lets her sit up front with Ducky. Brendan sits in the back seat with him in a stony silence, trying to put Amalia's tears out of his mind. He has to convince himself that there are other reasons behind her tears. Stress, relief that his father is okay. Relief that it's over? He hopes that he's not such an ego-maniac that he can believe all those tears are about him.
At his house, Ducky and Amalia walk to the door in a huddle. Justin gets out of the car only to get back into the front seat, but before Brendan can walk away, Justin (whom Brendan does not know all that well) grabs him by the shoulder and the two stare at each other for a minute.
Brendan isn't sure what Justin was trying to tell him in that stare, but he figures that he probably should have listened a little bit harder.
Or maybe he was just giving Ducky a minute to help Amalia settle in, a minute for them to talk. He could have just been reading too much into it.
Brendan finally goes into the house, and Ducky and Amalia are hugging in the kitchen. Ducky leaves, giving Brenda a pat on (strangely enough) the same shoulder Justin had grabbed. He leaves and Amalia and Brendan are alone in the house.
Perfect timing, Jones, he thinks. Break up with her right before the two of you are alone in the nice, big empty house. He knows it's a wrong thought, but he thinks it anyway. He might have been the one to end things, but only for her benefit. He still likes her quite a bit.
And then he realizes that they've been dating for nearly a year, and they've never made out. They've kissed, but nothing for more than thirty seconds. Amalia was too busy, he wasn't bold enough. He wonders if he had been a bit more bold and if she had a bit more time on her hands, how things would have ended up.
Amalia looks at him, and she goes upstairs.
Brendan sits in the kitchen, watching the clock change from second to second. He falls asleep there. He wakes up at four in the morning with one hell of a stiff neck. He turns off the light and goes upstairs to bed.
He wishes that he might not wake up.
But, of course, he does.
