I sit there and the words flow as easy as a smile would around him. “I’m really sorry I’ve let things go. I feel like I’ve failed you and haven’t…” I draw in a shaky breath. “I should have been there for Lex. I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have let her get so far gone that she tried to kill herself. I know you would have never let Madison get that way. You would have been there for her no matter what.” My chest constricts as I try to speak the next part. “Honestly, I’m angry. I say that I’m not but I am. I’m so fucking angry at everyone. I feel guilty for being angry. I thought I was okay but then I see Madison and Landon and it makes me fucking livid. Everything’s went to shit. Madison is fucking all strung out on drugs, Landon’s right along with her and I know they blame themselves but it doesn’t help matters. And Alexa… I just don’t even know what to say.”
I’m crying by the time I’ve said what I’ve said and it takes me a moment but I know I need to say something else.
“I sure miss you, buddy. So fucking much.” I clutch the football in my hand and raise up on my knees and then kiss it before setting it next to his headstone. I sit there for another moment wishing I could remember what his voice sounded like or see his face. It’s sad that time steals those important memories away from you. I see pictures of him every now and then but they all seem so distant to me. Like his memory is fading and I hate that. I fucking hate it.
As I’m leaving, I give the gravesite one last look before walking away. A gust of wind hits me then and I smile.
Back at ya, man…back at ya.
I wander around town, no specific destination in mind but I end up at the high school football field next. I’ve been here a handful of times too. I’m there maybe ten minutes when Landon shows up.
I’m not ready for his shit. It’s been a long week and I swear I haven’t slept since that fight Madison and I had. I’m physically and mentally exhausted. The last thing I need is another fight.
I’m sitting in the bleachers looking out over the field when he sits down behind me a few rows up. If he knows what’s good for him he’ll keep his fucking mouth shut.
He doesn’t.
“I’m sorry” are the first words out of his mouth.
I say nothing. He shakes his head at my silence. It frustrates him about as much as it frustrates me that he’s fucking talking.
I also know it helps him. He needs to say these things to me.
After a while, I do say something. What I’ve been dying to ask him since prom.
“I want you to tell me why? Why did you fuck my girl when you had your own?”
“I didn’t fuck her.”
I don’t believe him. I want to but something tells me not to.
“Did you want to?” I turn and raise an eyebrow at him, letting him know that lying to me right now isn’t wise. “Don’t bullshit me either. Tell me the fucking truth.”
He sighs. “Honestly… at that moment, yes. I did.”
I consider that, he told the truth at least. I have to know what happened though. “What else did you do with her?”
“We made out freshman year while we were studying. We were sober and wanted to see if there were any feelings there. There weren’t.” He watches my reaction, I have nothing to give him. My heart starts pounding as I imagine them making out. It makes me sick as I clench the beer in my hand.
Then he asks, “Did you sleep with Macy?”
He’s always thought this. Always. It’s like he’s got it in his mind I would do the same to him when that’s not accurate at all. “No. I never touched Macy like that. Never even thought about it.”
“So you didn’t do anything?”
He thinks I’m lying to him and it’s entertaining in a sense. “I bit her fucking neck once trying to prove to her that there was nothing between us.”
I say nothing more and turn back to the field. Fuck him for thinking that. Fuck him for treating Macy like shit for so long and turning to my girl.
What gets me is that he called Madison a whore when he and Macy were arguing. He’s no better. What gives him the right?
“You had no right to call Madison a whore.”
He doesn’t hesitate to apologize. “You’re right. I’m sorry for that too.”
We’re silent for a long moment, both of us staring at the field we used to dominate together when I ask, “Why couldn’t you see that it wasn’t just you hurting?”
“I’m sorry that I don’t want to feel. Forgive me for being selfish.” Landon says with a bitter edge. “What I can’t understand is that people can’t see that I’m not doing this for them. I don’t do it to feel this way. I do it to not feel.”