I was a doormat on a bad day and a baby‐sitter on the few good ones. Trish didn’t view me as an equal, and I never saw her as being mine either. We used each other like everyone else on the planet, and I just took a while to see it. I grabbed the box of cookies and made my way to the front porch, where I sunk down on the old wooden steps and stared up at the moon. It wasn’t quite full, but it was enormous.
I ate a cookie as I thought about Marie. I could see the disapproval in her face now as I told her all about this night. I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t see that look from her. She was the only one I truly had, and even that was just means to an end. I needed to get over Brock, or his memory would kill me. Marie was using me as well; I was a paycheck.
“You should see what the hell is going on in there.” Abel stumbled out of the door laughing, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he sat beside me, using my knee as a brace so he wouldn’t tumble down the rest of the stairs.
I glanced over at him, now shirtless. His skin seemed to glow under the moon, and my eyes focused on a thin white scar that ran over his ribs.
“I’d rather not,” I said dryly as he lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply and groaning as he released the smoke.
“Yeah.” He shook his head and laughed as he pulled another drag. “Probably too X‐rated for a girl like you.”
I didn’t like the way he said “girl,” like I was a fucking child. I grabbed his cigarette and took a drag, my eyes locked on his.
“You don’t look like the type,” he said, as he took it back and pressed it between his lips.
“Looks can be deceiving.” I stared off into the night, the pills slowly starting to dull the anger that throbbed in the back of my head. I wobbled, unsteady, and leaned back on my arms. The cracked wood dug into my elbows, but I was too focused on the wave of euphoria that was slowly licking at my toes and weaving its way through my veins.
“Like this house. It looks like it’s not worth shit, but there are memories here. Old ones.” He looked at me again. “New ones. You have to look past the chipped paint and creaky floorboards, but it’s there.”
I nodded, but my mind was pulsing in waves, and I lay on my back, the splintery wood poking me through my shirt. Abel did the same, and we stared out at the moon as he pulled another drag from his cigarette. The night was quiet, just the sound of our deep breaths as we got lost in our own thoughts. He began to ramble, picking up where he’d left off, but his sentences ran together, and he never seemed to complete a thought.
“You can’t change what’s on the inside…inside people, not the house. The house can be changed.” The cherry from his cigarette blew brighter as he took a long pull and exhaled slowly. “Not really true, though. I changed. Things changed. My whole life…” He tucked his arm under his head to angle his face toward the moon.
“I’ve changed but not really. Changed a lot in some ways, others not at all,” I offered, but my words got caught on my tongue, and I stuttered as I tried to push out a thought. I felt deep, but the translation was lost on its way from my brain to my tongue. I felt like I was sinking into the old wood of the porch, becoming the decrepit house that had been forgotten.
“What are you on?” Abel was on his side, propped on his elbow and looming over me, blocking the light of the moon.
“A dilapidated porch,” I replied with a smirk, as if I’d deciphered a trick question. His eyebrows pulled together, and I wanted to reach out and smooth the skin between them, but I was frozen under the stormy ocean of his eyes.
“Did you take some of those pills?” His body swayed slightly, or maybe my vision was impaired.
“Sorry.” I shrugged and ran my hand over my face. My skin tingled and itched from the medication. I wanted to scratch it all away, peel the paint from my shell, and see whether what was inside was just as fucked up, but I knew it was.
“How many?” His voice was stern, and I felt like I was about to be lectured by my father, but I didn’t have a father, so I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh or cry.
“Two…maybe three.” I fought the smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. The moonlight made him look like an angel with a glowing halo, and I wanted to run my hand through his hair to see if the magic would scatter around him and float off into the thick night air.
“Fuck,” he mumbled as his jaw flexed. He was angry, but it seemed aimed at himself.
“I’m sorry.” I felt sadness inside me, but the pills held it off, kept the tears from ever hitting the surface. I no longer wanted to feel. My thoughts became words, and I pushed myself up to sit too fast. “I don’t belong here.”