Suggested Listening: "This City's a Mess" - Said the Whale
Feel It in My Bones
~This City's a Mess~
The day before everyone was meeting up to bury the time capsule, I woke up much earlier than normal. A blurry-eyed glance at the clock told me it was just before six. I turned over and tried to go back to sleep, but my mind was already alert and whirring, and I could find no solace.
I threw back the covers, letting a blast of cold air into my cocoon. I'd left the window open last night to combat the heat, but as it always did at this time of year, the weather was having mood swings. Frankly, the telling nip in the air left me with mixed feelings.
Summer's coming to an end.
After crawling out of bed, I pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants and went to sit on the window sill. I lit up a cigarette, using a coffee cup I'd left on my desk to tap the ashes into. I stared out into the cold morning, watching the sky light up in pinks and oranges as the sun peeked over a neighbour's roof.
Just on the other side of that house was the park, where Mello was probably jogging on through right about now just like any other day. I could imagine his blond hair tied back (along with the feeling that always rose up in me at the sight of it, a need to pull it loose and a peculiar twinge of curiosity of what it would be like to run my fingers through it), and his eyes lit up with first determination and then anger. The latter was a result of the words that had spilled out my mouth that day, those very words that now I would give anything to take back. I remembered the way he had run from me. Sure, he had come back for me on the bridge, but we both knew that it hadn't really changed anything; we had already slipped through each other's fingers a long time ago.
It hurt to think about that day and all that we'd said to each other, but I couldn't let myself forget. 'Cause just like I knew that I wasn't the boy with the goggles who didn't care and wasn't cared for in return, I knew that he wasn't the rough-edged boy with the cold eyes that had brushed past me in the supermarket.
No matter how much he wanted me to believe otherwise.
There was a part of him that would always retain the openness and warmth he'd shown me as a child the day that we met. This flashier version that wore leather like armour, like a second skin; that was armed with barbed words and an acid tongue; and that rivalled me for the sin of lying by omission – was just a façade that he'd fabricated to protect himself from those who sought to tear him down. Remembering what Halle had told me, I wondered if he thought that in a way he'd been protecting me, too.
If anything, that had been our problem; we'd done such a good job of building up walls that we'd even succeeded in keeping each other out.
That's why I couldn't forget the pain I'd seen in his eyes that day. Just for a moment, his façade had cracked, and I'd caught a glimpse of what he would never allow to be put into words. It gave me hope.
Because if he cares that much, then anything is possible.
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
Two hours later, I was sitting at the kitchen table, surfing the web on my laptop and finishing my second cup of coffee. My mom walked in just then, caught sight of me, and stopped in her tracks. A few moments were spent just looking at me in bemusement before she walked over to the fridge.
"Awake early again, hm?" she tossed over her shoulder. "Should I be worried? It'd be nice to know if you're planning another mission to beard the Mello-lion, if that's the case."
I downed the last of my coffee, making a face as I tasted the dregs. I gave her my cheeriest smile, regardless. "Morning to you, too. Coffee's in the pot, and I made you breakfast. It's under that lid over there."
"Oh… Well. Thank you." She turned around to face me and blinked. "You didn't answer my question, though."
"'Couldn't sleep is all. It's funny that you say that, actually. Mello's middle name is Léandre; it means 'lion man'."
Her back was turned to me once again as she grabbed her breakfast, but I could still hear her snort. "And you know this how?"
"It was an assignment for English one year. We had to team up and do a report on the origin and meaning of our partner's name. Get this: Mihael means 'who is like God'. Mello got a kick out of that."
"I can imagine. So, together it's 'lion man who is like God'… Interesting. I guess that makes him Aslan."
She said this in such a breezy tone that it took a moment for it to sink in. When it did, I couldn't contain my laughter.
There was a twinkle in her eye as she sat down across from me. "And fancy that – you recently came out of the wardrobe!"
"Hah-hah, very funny." I tried to look angry, but each time I looked at her, I was thwarted by the urge to smile.
She took a sip of her coffee, the rim of the mug concealing her self-satisfied grin. "Oh, I know I'm funny; no need to state the obvious."
"Just eat your breakfast," I insisted.
She did, but I had to put up with her grinning the entire time. Thankfully, I was distracted by a pop-up on my computer informing me that I'd just received an email. I opened it up right away when I saw whom it was from.
"So, what do you have planned for today?" she asked sometime later. "You know, besides stopping by Narnia."
I ignored the latter part of that in favour of answering the former. "I'm going to lunch with Near. I left a message on his phone yesterday, asking if he wanted to go, and he just got back to me."
"Oh, that's nice. I hope you two have fun." She got up to clean up the dishes, but I beat her to it.
"Here. Let me take that for you."
She gave me a warm smile, settling back into her seat. "Thank you."
"No problem." I set them in the sink.
As I turned to leave, she called to me, "Matt!"
"What?" I asked, looking back in confusion.
She looked pointedly at the sink and then at me. "Don't you think you're forgetting something?"
I blinked. "Um… no?"
She sighed, shooing me away with a wave of her hand. "Never mind. It's progress."
With a shrug, I left the room and went upstairs to kill time before I would have to leave.
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
At eleven fifty AM, I left the house. Since my mom had the day off (a pretty rare occurrence as of late), she insisted that I take the car. To be honest, I think she was glad to have the house to herself for a while.
It didn't take me long to get to my destination. While I waited for Near to show up, I leaned against the side of the car and smoked. Across the street, the video store where I used to work was stripped of all signage and from what I could see through the windows, the inside seemed to be gutted. A fold-up sign out front proclaimed in bold lettering: "STARBUCKS coming soon!"
I smirked mirthlessly around my cigarette.
It was like the final insult.
I wondered what the old owner thought of his store becoming just another corporate accessory, which in turn made me wonder how the owner was doing. I'd never personally known anyone who had a stroke, so I had no idea what to expect. I made a mental note to ask the next time I run into Matsuda around town.
Just then, I spotted Near walking up to the crosswalk on the other side of the street and dropped my cigarette, crushing it under my shoe. We greeted each other with little more than a nod as we each fell into step with the other.
We reached the café and grabbed a seat out on the patio. I looked around for a few moments, taking in the scenery, when I noticed Linda coming out the door, carrying plates. She walked past us to the family sitting two tables behind us and set the food in front of them.
I quirked an eyebrow and said to Near, "Linda's got a job already?"
He nodded. "She is quite resourceful."
Linda walked over to us then, a friendly smile on her face. "Hey, guys!" I noted the way she rested a hand on Near's shoulder and my eyebrow rose again.
She took our order and then hurried back into the building. I watched her go, amused and just a little weirded out. "Something happened between you two, didn't it?"
Near twirled a lock of his snow-white hair innocently. "Loose lips sink ships, Mail."
I rolled my eyes. "And clichés make my ears bleed," I quipped. "What else is new?"
Another one of the waitresses came back with our drinks then, and we went quiet while we watched her place them in front of us. We thanked her and she gave us a polite smile before going on her way.
Near rested his chin on the heel of his hand and removed the umbrella from his lemonade, examining it indifferently. "I believe you asked me here for one reason and one reason only, and that is to hear my advice on the situation between Mello and yourself." He looked up at me. "Correct?"
I shook my head rapidly. "No, no – that's not it. We can talk about anything we want to. What's going on with you–?"
"Matt," he cut me off, his dark eyes flashing. "You are the only person who can stand to be around Mello for any real length of time without feeling the urge to punch him in the face; this was bound to happen eventually."
I exhaled and looked down at the table.
"He's not all that bad," I said quietly.
"I never said he was," Near conceded. "There are just people who are suitable for each other, and those who are not. For example, Mello says that he finds me 'repulsive' and 'excruciatingly annoying'. Besides the fact that I am heterosexual and he is a male, we would otherwise still be completely incompatible as mates.
"On the other hand, Linda has told me that my company is 'entertaining' and our conversations are 'enlightening'. I am sure that the qualities that Mello sees in you are much closer to the latter example than the former."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "… Something totally happened between you and Linda."
Near continued on, ignoring my comment, "To be frank, this whole situation could have been avoided if you had just told him at the party that you wanted to have sexual intercourse with him."
My jaw dropped, forming pretty much the most perfect rendition of a D-colon face ever. All I could manage was a pitiful, "Oh my God, why?"
He ignored me once again and just kept on going. "It is amazing that this has gone on as long as it has. He has always pursued you aggressively, but ever since we entered high school and the dress code relaxed, he has been strutting around in that leather get-up of his like a peacock during mating season. In particular, the outfit he was wearing was beyond provocative that day he came to see you in the video store after acting like a sulking, jilted lover when you started going out with Ms. Kenwood. And you," – he paused, looking me right in the eye as my face continued to get redder and redder – "You were practically salivating.
"Sorry to use such colloquial language, but I am glad that you finally got the balls to kiss him, because I assure you that we have all had enough of you following him around like a panting golden retriever, and neither of you making the move when it was so obvious that neither of you had anything to lose."
I sputtered for a few moments, before finally setting on a very loud, "Near, what the hell?"
The corner of his lips twitched into a little smirk. "Calm down, Matt. People are starting to stare."
I shrunk in my chair and furtively glanced around.
"Now," he said, taking a sip of his lemonade. "As for the matter of Mello forgiving you, I don't think you have anything to worry about."
I took the first drink of my soda. "How do you figure that?"
"Mello has his pride, but he knows when he is wrong," Near reasoned. "In any case, he will come back to you if only for the reason that, like I said, you're the most suited to be with him romantically – and to be fair, he's the only one who has the tenacity to continue to smack you in the face with the obvious when you're intentionally being oblivious."
Cue deadpan. "Why, thank you."
I hope he sensed how sincere and heartfelt that was.
"You're welcome." Not a hint of sarcasm.
That's right; it's Near I'm talking to…
He cleared his throat. "Since you were going to ask me about myself before I interrupted you, I might as well tell you now. I am going to university in the fall; my brother is paying for it. Also, Far is getting married."
My eyes widened in surprise. "Near, that's awesome! Congratulations! Where are you going? And uh," – I cleared my throat uncomfortably – "Far's not marrying that blonde chick he almost got arrested with in New York is he?"
Near pursed his lips. "No, that wasn't a serious relationship; he said that he ended it that night."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "Then why are the tabloids still saying that they're dating when they broke up months ago…?"
Near sighed. "It's a long story. I will get to that in a moment. First, I will answer your earlier question. I am going to the university in the city, I am going into the criminology program, and I will be living in Far's old apartment. He isn't using it currently, but apparently he still keeps up the rent for when he wants to come and visit. That has yet to have happened – but I appreciate the sentiment, I suppose."
I frowned. "It's kind of weird that Far's just suddenly choosing to act like he cares about you after the way he's treated you."
"I was wrong about him," Near admitted, a distinctly sad look in his eyes. "He has been sending me letters for years. I found them the other day in my parents' closet, in one of my mother's old shoeboxes… There were so many of them in there; it took me a long time to read them all." He swallowed, trying to cover up the fact that his voice was starting to waver. "He had been offering all the time to get me out of there, and I never knew… The only reason why I got that birthday card was because it was mailed under his agent's name. He left the birthday card unsigned in case my mother opened the envelope."
He exhaled audibly, and I stayed quiet because I sensed that he had more to say – and, to be honest, I didn't even know what to say to that. I always knew that Near's parents had issues, but I didn't think that they could be that cruel.
He continued, "This time, I intercepted the mailman when he arrived in front of my house. The latest letter from Far was the one that held the information about his upcoming nuptials. The envelope also contained this."
Suddenly, he was holding a photograph right in front of my face and I had to lean back to bring it into focus. My mouth fell open a little as I realized what I was looking at.
The photo was kind of grainy, probably taken with a cell phone, but I could still make out a lot of the details. Far must have been the one who took it, because his arm was outstretched as if he was holding something and he was grinning like a fool. He was cozied up to someone who was covering their cheeks with their hands – the red of their blush still visible through the cracks of their fingers – and they were smiling shyly.
The person with him in the picture was definitely not blonde.
Nor was it a girl.
"Holy shit," I said.
Near sighed. "I thought you would say that."
He turned the picture over and in Far's messy scrawl there was a message that read: "Surprise! Sorry I didn't tell you earlier."
I blinked rapidly, utterly confused.
"It's not the first time Far has surprised me, nor will it be the last," Near stated resignedly. "According to the letter, the man's name is Alfred – but he prefers Alfie. The news will hit the tabloids tomorrow. I'm also moving out tomorrow to avoid the backlash from my parents."
"At least you have the time capsule thing to look forward to tomorrow." I chuckled nervously.
It was a lame attempt at consolation and we both knew it.
Near just stared at me, unimpressed.
A scraping sound distracted us momentarily from our conversation. I looked up to see Linda plop down in a chair that she had pulled over, apron in hand. She discarded the garment on the table, looking exhausted.
"Whew, that shift was brutal." She looked over at me and smiled, gaining her energy back in a snap. "Hey, lover boy. How's the Mello issue coming along?"
Oh, for the love of –
"What is this, gossip club? How does everyone know?" I aimed an accusatory glare at Near.
Near just smiled.
Linda giggled with glee. "Chill, Matt. Only our circle of friends knows."
"Once again: how?"
"Simple. Wedy changed her relationship status on Facebook, Mello dropped off the face of the Earth, and you cycled between looking like you were solving the mystery of life and looking like someone had just broken your laptop deliberately right in front of you. We just inferred the rest."
…
I narrowed my eyes at her.
"Okay," she admitted. "Halle filled us in. She didn't tell us everything, though!" she exclaimed when she realized I might take that the wrong way (as in, exactly the way it sounded). "Everyone else just thinks you two are fighting, but I got the full details because I nearly nagged her to death."
'Sounds like something she would do.
I pushed at the bridge of my nose, expecting to feel my goggles there, and put my hand down awkwardly when I remembered. I still wasn't used to the fact that I wasn't wearing them anymore…
"Still," I sighed. "Why is everyone treating our lives like a soap opera?"
Linda had the audacity to look embarrassed then, and Near answered for her, "Everyone will be venturing out into the world soon, and they will lose interest when they get involved with their jobs or schooling. That or another drama will come along. It's just the hangover from high school."
I exhaled again, the force of it lifting up my bangs, and I laughed a little. "I guess."
I sat up, suddenly remembering something.
"By the way, what's going on between L and Light?"
Near and Linda shared a look before Linda placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Matt," she said, "that's just not something that is open for discussion."
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
After talking with Linda for a while and having lunch, Near decided it was time for him to go home. I offered to drive him, and he reluctantly agreed. Before I got into the car, however, I ducked into the florist's that I'd spotted across the street while we'd been eating. Fortunately, they had exactly what I'd wanted, and two minutes later found me getting into the car with my purchase in hand. Near, who had been sitting in the car during my absence, plucked the box and the receipt out of my hand without preamble once I was settled in.
He made a show of perusing the receipt, smirking that damn little smirk of his. I refused to look at him, instead choosing to put the car in gear and back out probably faster than I should've.
Near waited until I was on a straightaway before he said anything: "Fifty-six dollars for a box of chocolates… Matthew, I am impressed."
I remained silent, glaring straight ahead of me.
"I couldn't help but notice," he went on, "that you didn't adhere to the 'two month's salary' rule."
I snorted. "I bought him a box of specialty chocolates, not a diamond engagement ring."
A smile curled slowly across his face. "With Mello, aren't they of equal value?" Of course he was twirling his hair, too.
"God, I hope not." I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm trying to soften him up, not fatten him up."
"I'm going to remember that in twenty years when Mello has sugar diabetes and not even your smoking habit will combat the pounds put on by your low-activity lifestyle."
"And I'll remember that when you eventually die from lead poisoning from all the times you've put those toys of yours in your mouth," I shot back.
His face went blank and the motion that his left hand was making in his hair ceased abruptly. "They are action figures, not toys, and collecting them is a perfectly normal hobby for an eighteen-year-old male." It seemed that he was going to leave it at that, but then he suddenly muttered, "And I do not put them in my mouth; that must be some sick fantasy that you and Mello conjured up."
I burst out laughing. When I finally collected myself, I quirked an eyebrow and caught his eye in the mirror. "Not even Optimus Prime?" I asked with a smirk.
He glared – and not just your average, run-of-the-mill glare either. Caps lock, bold, italics, underline, and duck for cover. Seriously, even Mello might've baulked had he seen Near's expression right then.
Christ, I hope Linda never asks him that question. Glare at a girl like that and it's a sure-fire way to get dumped.
You know, besides cheating. But let's not get into that again.
The neighbourhood that Near's family lived in wasn't exactly the nicest in town. It was the kind of place where you avoid your neighbours and never allow your children outside to play. The trailer park in this area was home to our town's transient population – but Near's family had been living there since before either of us was born and had never moved since.
Part of their financial situation was Near's parents' fault and some of it wasn't. When Near had been little, he'd been very sickly. He used to get lung infections and the like all the time, but in third grade, he got a fever that had turned his hair white – literally. He'd gone into the hospital for a time, and Near's mom quit her job so that someone could be with him at all times. Then Near's dad got laid off because the auto parts factory that he worked at was closing down, and he took to drinking. He also took to hitting his wife, and then she was drinking, too. The only reason the police were never called was that no-one could ever prove that it was happening; they never hit their kids (as far as Near had told me) and his mom always spit venom at anyone that asked about her bruises.
But we all knew the truth.
The night that Near, Mello, and I had given each other our nicknames was particularly memorable for more than just the obvious reason. It had been the first time that either of us had hung out with Near outside of school – and the events that had precipitated it had been good nightmare fodder for my then nine-year-old mind. All I remember about how it started was the phone rang, Mello picked it up, and then he hung up not even a minute later with a grim look on his face.
"I gotta go get my mom," was all he'd said.
Fifteen minutes later had found us waiting outside of Near's house in Mello's mom's car. Mrs. Keehl was somewhere outside, her movements made indistinguishable to us by the darkness and the thick rivulets of rain that had been running down the windows. I can still remember the constant schwick-schwick of the wiper blades, and how white Mello's face had looked and how large his pupils had seemed in the pale-green lighting from the dash. Suddenly, the door had opened and a sopping wet Near had slid in.
When Mrs. Keehl had got in shortly after, Mello had asked, "Aren't you going to call the police?"
No-one had bothered to explain to me what was going on, but by that time I'd guessed that it was pretty bad. I'd wisely chosen to keep my mouth shut.
"No, I won't." Her tone had been clipped, making it clear that there would be nothing more to say on the matter.
Next to me, Near had breathed a sigh of relief.
Before we'd left, I saw a light go on and off twice in the house. Near had pressed his hand to the window in response. I didn't get long to think on it because just then, Mello's mom had put the car back in drive and drove us back to Mello's house as quickly as possible. I'd chosen to forget about it that night in favour of helping Mello cheer Near up. I think the only reason Mello had started on the rant about our real names is because it wasn't a very serious topic. Near had even cracked a few smiles in response to Mello's wilder suggestions for nicknames.
Thinking on it now, I wonder if it had been Far that had turned on the light, a signal to let his little brother know that it was okay to leave him behind, that he'd be fine. I would never find out for sure, however, because Near would never volunteer that kind of information unless he thought he had a good reason.
In the present, I pulled the car up in front of Near's home. It looked a lot less menacing in the daytime (not to mention that I'm another nine years older since that first time). More than anything, it just looked run down with its hail-damaged siding, cracked paint, and abundance of weeds covering the lot. Near's mom was leaning against the railing on the porch, smoking a cigarette.
I took in her scowl which deepened into a look of disdain as she identified me as the driver. I looked over at Near. "You don't have to go in there. You could stay over at my house tonight."
"Mail, I appreciate your concern," he said with a crisp edge to his voice, "but I have been living here for eighteen years; I think I can handle one more night."
I shook my head. "You don't owe them anything, Near – especially not after they lied to you."
He was quiet for a few moments. Then he murmured, "I don't expect you to understand, but… I still love them. I would like to say goodbye."
"Okay. Just… call me if you need to."
Near gave me a jerky nod before he climbed out of the car. His mother watched his approach up to the house with a neutral expression. When he was close enough, she stamped out her cigarette and opened her arms wide. They hugged before going inside together.
I drove back home with my thoughts whirring in my head. After all the things that had been happening lately, I felt both exhausted and exhilarated.
I don't know for how much longer I can keep this up.
As I turned a corner, the chocolate box slid off of the divider and into my lap. Smiling, I picked it up and tossed it gently into the backseat.
Tomorrow, I promised myself. I'll tell him tomorrow.