Day 6; Your Day
(Butters / Kenny)
"How was your night?"
Butters' voice pounded in my head, I couldn't pick up the tone of his words. Opening my eyes seemed like the worst thing to do, but still I looked over to his half-smile, even after the light told me keeping them closed would've been the better decision. He didn't know how to feel. It was obvious. He knew I was hung over, and he knew I did this to myself, and he knew I came to him because I wanted him to take care of me. He didn't know if I was sorry, or if he was on my mind before I started drinking, or if my intention was to be like this. He didn't know why. That must've been what bothered him most.
"I'm sorry, Butters."
The volume of my own voice hurt more than Butters' and the lighting. His smile deepened and he nodded, not to my apology but in confirmation of something to himself. On the side table next to him were two pills and a fizzing glass of water. Perfection.
I scooted up but was stopped from fully sitting up by an overwhelming nausea. I shut my eyes in concentration to fucking not puke all over this angel's bed. It came anyway, but Butters slipped his bedroom trash can under my chin right before anything hit the covers. Shame washed over me. He shouldn't have to be so prepared. I stared at nothing while the spinning slowed and saw him fidgeting from the corner of my eye.
"I'm just... going to empty this. Drink the alka seltzer please. I'll be right back."
He lifted the trash can and left the room. I adjusted myself and did as I was told, leaving the Advil for later. My head tilted toward the ceiling and I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or not. I waited for Butters to return. I tried to think over everything I wanted to say, but there was too much already in my head.
He came back and instead of kneeling next to the bed again, went around to sit next to me. His legs pulled close to his chest and hands on his knees, and he didn't say anything. The silence probably could've gone on for hours, if I didn't start rambling.
"Karen came into my room crying. I asked her what was wrong and she said they were fighting again. We talked, I told her stories. She fell asleep in my arms. I went to put her to sleep in my bed but didn't think that was fit for her innocence, so I took her to her room. The house was quiet. I figure they tired themselves and went to fuck or something."
I took a moment after that sentence, remembering Butters' sensitivity to curse words. I apologized and continued.
"I started wandering the house. The silence of it suffocated me. I walked through our trashy living room to our trashy kitchen and saw the bottles in our trashy cupboards. It just happened. Moment of weakness. I'm sorry. I should've just come over or called or something. It would've been better than this."
I tilted my head to see him blinking away tears. They were his way of apologizing for the life I've been forced into, something he'd never say aloud. He grabbed for my hand and held it tight, then leaned onto me.
"Call next time. Always call."
I expected a quiet 'please' but it never came. It wasn't hard to understand his irritation He was paying my phone bill for a reason. The grip he had on my hand showed he wasn't mad, just sad if anything. It seemed like we spent the rest of the day sitting on his bed, which we did spend most of the day doing. The both of us faded in and out of sleep. I'd never felt more comfortable in a silence.
