His Reverie (16 page)

Longing: strong and persistent desire or craving

July 10
th

I
did nothing on my two days off but think of Reverie.

Oh, I did other stuff. Mindless, sometimes stupid stuff. I washed my truck. Got drunk Saturday night with Michael when he came over with a bottle of tequila and margarita mix plus a blender. Who travels around with a blender?

Michael, that’s who.

The massive hangover from all the tequila just about did me in come Sunday morning. I felt like absolute shit when I first woke up, my head pounding, my mouth as dry as cotton balls and my stomach protesting every time I even thought about food.

So I was lazy and watched TV all day. Even found Reverend Hale on his Sunday televangelist show, punching his fist in the air after every word he said, like some sort of weird, gotta-drive-my-point-home punctuation. He was talking about the youth of today. How they don’t listen. How they think they know everything and refuse to respect their elders. How they don’t follow the gospel of our lord Jesus Christ and think they’re invincible.

I wonder who he’s referring to. The episode is a repeat, they take the summer off, but something must’ve set him off for that sermon. I can’t help but wonder if it was his son. Evan. That guy is constantly doing whatever the hell he wants and doesn’t give a damn what his parents think. And no way can he be talking about Reverie. She’s the perfect girl. I think she’s scared to death to disappoint them.

Her spending even a minute of time with me would surely disappoint them. That’s why we have to keep what we’re doing secret. I don’t even know what exactly I’m doing. I should’ve never kissed her in the stables. I still feel like a jerk for just leaving her there, never saying anything to her again.

She probably hates me. She should.

Late in the afternoon there’s a knock on my door and I automatically think it’s Krista. No one else comes over unannounced. Michael always calls or texts me first and I don’t really have any other friends, not anymore. Krista needs the element of surprise on her side because she knows I’m avoiding her as much as possible.

So when I decide fuck it and throw open the door fully expecting to find a half naked Krista waiting for me, imagine my surprise when I see David standing in front of me.

David. My former best friend, he was like a brother to me. The guy I would do anything for. The kid who lied and said I was with him that one night when we supposedly beat a man to death after going on a drunken binge. The one whose lies sunk me, sent me to jail, cost my mom money she didn’t have and nearly ruined my life.

Yeah. That David.

I don’t say a word, start to shut the door on him but he throws his hand out, blocking me. Fucker was always stronger than me too. Broader, bulkier, though I got him beat in height. Didn’t help me in situations like this though.

“Move,” I practically growl, not letting my eyes meet his because damn it, I don’t even want to look at this asshole.

“We need to talk,” David says, his palm flat against my front door, his body leaning slightly forward. He’s putting all his weight into holding that door open and I’m putting all of my weight into trying to close the damn thing.

And I’m freaking losing which frustrates me even more.

“I have nothing to say to you,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Well, I have plenty to say to you. Stop being such a stubborn ass and let me in so I can tell you,” David says.

Curiosity washes over me and I wish I could quell it. But…I can’t. I want to hear what he has to say. I need to hear an apology, a reason why, something so I can start to understand why he did what he did.

If I can ever understand what he did. I don’t know if that’s possible.

Giving in, I move away from the door and David practically falls inside, stumbling forward before he catches himself and stands up straight. I slam the door behind him, hoping like hell Krista doesn’t know he’s here. She’d run right over if she found out.

Something I absolutely do not want to deal with right now.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” I say as I turn to face him, my arms crossed in front of my chest. I’m trying my best to look tough while facing my former best friend for the first time in years, wearing a battered old T-shirt and equally battered shorts, both having seen better days.

“Ten minutes?” David thrusts a hand through his black hair, sending it straight into chaos. An old tell that lets me know he’s nervous.

Oddly reassuring since I am too.

“And the clock is ticking,” I say with a nod.

“Fine.” He blows out a harsh breath before he starts talking in earnest. “I’m really sorry. I heard about your mom and how you uh, lost her.” He pauses, sounding a little choked up. “She meant a lot to me and it about broke my heart to hear she was sick.”

I swallow hard, past the swell of emotion threatening me. “How’d you find out?”

“My dad.” David shakes his head and collapses in the chair closest to him. Mom’s old chair. How fitting. “I cried when he told me.”

“Are your tears supposed to make me feel better? Give me some sort of peace since I lost her?” I feel like a jerk for saying it but come on. “At least I was able to be with her during her last few months.”
No thanks to your lies putting me in jail in the first place.

“Yeah, thank God for that.” David clears his throat. “Listen, I’m sorry for everything else too. For lying. For…getting you arrested. For ruining your life and mine too.”

Great. Now he’s the martyr. I want to punch him in the nuts for saying this crap. “When did you get out?”

“Two days ago.” He studies me, all solemn sincerity. “I fucked up. I don’t know why I did it.”

Anger rises within me, making my skin hot and my blood boil. He thinks he can come see me and not give me a real reason as to why he did what he did? “So that’s all you’ve got?” I yell, making him wince. I feel like I’m going to explode. “You fucked up? You don’t know why you did it?”

He shrugs, his expression uneasy. “They pressured me.”

“Who? The cops?”

“Well, yeah. I told those detectives who questioned me we were out drinking that night in the park. Not too far from where that guy got beat up. You remember how it was, when the police talked to you? They questioned me for hours. They wouldn’t let up, asking me the same thing over and over again. Telling me we were the ones who did it. That they
knew
we did it. I was so tired, freaking delirious really, and I finally said yes, we did do it, just to make them stop.” He pauses and I notice there are unshed tears shining in his eyes. I’ve known this kid since we were six. I don’t think I’ve seen him cry in ten years. But those tears are not gonna move me now. Besides he’s giving me details I already know. “I’m sorry bro.”

“Don’t call me bro.” I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling, the water stains there, the wisps of long abandoned spider webs. The detectives questioned me relentlessly too. Doesn’t mean I gave in to their harassment and said that we did it. We didn’t. No matter what they said to me, I wasn’t going to cave. Why would I? We were innocent. “I didn’t do that to you. They questioned me just as long as they talked to you. I stood by the truth.”

“Maybe you were the stronger one then. I was young. Stupid.”

“We’re the same age, asshole.” I study him, really look at him. He appears way older. And tired. So freaking tired. Do I look that tired and old? Hell, we’re not even eighteen yet. David looks like he’s lived a thousand lives already. “How did you get out anyway?”

“They tried to make other charges stick, about my making false statements to law enforcement when they’re the ones who filled my head with lies. Dad threatened to sue them all, which sprung them into action. When they realized they had nothing to hold me there, especially once they let you go, they dropped all charges and released me,” David explains.

He’s lucky he has his parents to stand by him. I don’t have anyone. “Is that all you’ve got to say then?”

David stares at me, his jaw hanging open like he’s trying to catch flies. I don’t know what he expected. A sappy reunion? My instant forgiveness? He wronged me like no one ever had or probably ever will. He said I helped him kill someone. “I guess so,” he mumbles. “I thought…”

“You thought what? That I’d welcome you back into my life with open arms? That we’d resume our friendship just like it was before you started spewing lies and accusing me of fucking murder?” The rage that consumes me is near overwhelming. I’m shaking, I’m so angry. “You were wrong.”

“I guess so,” David says quietly as he gets up. “I’m sorry, Nick.”

“Fuck you,” I practically spit out. “Your ten minutes are up.”

Without another word David leaves my apartment, closing the door behind him, the sharp click echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

I stand in the center of the living room, my breathing ragged, like I just ran twenty miles. My lungs burn, my eyes sting and my heart…it fucking hurts.

Never could I admit this out loud, especially to David’s face, but I miss my best friend. I wish I could accept him back into my life with open arms. I wish we could pick up where we left off. There’s so much I could tell him, so much I’m sure he could tell me.

But I can’t. He screwed me over and I don’t mean that lightly. The guy—my so called best friend—told the damn cops that he and I got drunk. That we went out looking for trouble and found it with some chubby middle-aged guy getting off work after pulling a late shift. That we took a tire iron to the dude and beat the shit out of him until he collapsed and…died by the side of his car. In the middle of an otherwise empty parking lot.

I remember seeing it on the news. I remember thinking how close we were to that parking lot the night before. We had gone out drinking at the city park not far from that dead guy’s work. David had brought a twelve pack of beer, one he’d stolen from his dad. We drank it fast and were buzzing pretty hard. We were trying to bond after our fight about Krista.

My best friend and my girl, fucking. I’d been pissed. Not hurt so much by Krista’s betrayal, but from David’s.

Then he went and betrayed me even further.

I collapse on the couch and sling my arm over my eyes. My chest aches. Everything hurts and it’s not a physical pain. More like a throbbing deep in my bones, buried in my heart.

Scarred all over my soul.

I need out of this place. It’s no good here. I stay in this apartment, in this town, hanging out with the same people, I’m just spinning my wheels. Going nowhere.

Hale House is my one glimmer of hope. Gaining some work experience there could help get me out. If I’m careful, I could even save enough money to take a couple of classes at the community college this upcoming fall, if I can still somehow enroll. Probably can’t do it till next spring though, which is probably better. That way I can have even more money saved. I need an education. I need an advantage to get me out of here for good.

Before I’m forever stuck.