by Raven Scott
“Do you seriously not feel responsible at all for any of this, Caleb? If you’d fucking manned up and taken responsibility for the little, stupid shit that I asked you to do, this wouldn’t have fucking happened! All I fucking asked of you was to respect my boundaries and my space— clean your dishes, even if it’s just one. Do your own fucking laundry. Don’t be a fucking bug flying around my face when I specifically say I want to be alone! How fucking difficult was that!” My voice got louder and harsher, until I was shouting, and Caleb actually started to tear up. The sight of his eyes reddening and watering only made me switch from rage to apoplexy. “Why can’t you fucking be an adult, huh! Why did you have to go complain to Aunt Jess— as if she ever fucking did anything good for you! She raised you to complain, and she’d make the problem go away! Well, you’re a fucking adult, now! Your actions have fucking consequences, and I’m tired of enabling you!”
“If you’d just fucking grew some fucking balls and accepted that you’re a fucking loser and needed to change, I wouldn’t be kicking you out right now! Nothing I wanted from you was difficult, Caleb! You’re just a lazy piece of shit that cries when you have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m so fucking sick and tired of you acting like working a busser for shit money, but not trying to get a better job or any fucking useful fucking skills, means you have the right to bitch about your piece of shit life!” I forced my teeth together before I started really going off on him and losing my fucking mind. Tears streamed down his face as he shook from the struggle not to cry. Inhaling fire through flared nostrils, I closed my eyes briefly. When I spoke up again, my voice was lower, but there was no fixing the roughness of disgust that thickened my tone. “You’re a loser, and a brat, and the only reason I’ve put up with you for this long is because I didn’t want to rock the boat. But guess what, Caleb— it’s gone and capsized. Get the fuck out of my apartment, and don’t come back. I’ll put your shit out before I go to work on Monday.”
He ran away, and the bitter thought that he was going to call his mom and tattletale on me raced behind my eyes. The front door of my apartment slammed shut, and I whipped around to storm over and lock the deadbolt. I had the key, but I never used it, so Caleb couldn’t reenter my apartment.
Fuck him, anyway. Fuck this whole day.
“Ugh.” Sneering at the sofa on the way to my room, I made a point to get a new one; maybe, Joci and I could make a thing of it when she felt better. “I need sleep.”
She was already naked when I entered my room, and I set my armful on the dresser to fish the drawers for a shirt. We should do that, too… get some shirts that she can put on easier. I only have t-shirts.
“I can sleep for days.” Helping her into the shirt, I only nodded at her tired, laden words. The brightness of broken blood vessels in her shoulders had dulled to a muddy black-blue, but the meds for her hand would help with the swelling. Frankly, the doctor hadn’t paid any attention to her shoulders, which was relieving. They were just bruises, so there was nothing he could do about them.
“I’m going to sleep for days. I’m sorry this has been such a shit show, Joci. If I thought my mom was gonna be that vindictive, I would have insisted we didn’t go.” Honestly, it was both our faults— if I was a little less of a dense idiot, and she wasn’t so adamant to impress my family despite her shoulder, we could’ve managed a lot better. Joci didn’t verbally reply, only pressing her forehead against my chest, and I reached to scratch her crown. She practically purred, and a small smile tilted my lips as I kissed her forehead.
“I turned my phone off. You should, too.” For some reason, scratching her head like a cat was as relaxing for me as it was for Joci. It was a mindless, intimate gesture that took no energy but gave a lot of nice, tingly sensations. Honestly, that was a dumb way to put it, but she’d said it herself— I was dumb.
And I was okay with all of this shit because at least it’s happening early on. I had no intention of breaking up with Joci over life-threatening gang affiliation… is this even considered a gang, or is it more like Al Capone shit?
“I don’t think Thanksgiving is fun. It was nervous.” Pressing my cheek against her crown, I cupped the back of Joci’s head as she murmured hoarsely. “Sucks.”
“We’ll make our own holidays. Ones we’ll want to celebrate, not feel like we have to. It’ll be like… Pizza Day— or Do Nothing Day— or Bring You to Work Day.” I could feel her smile against my sternum, and I leaned back to draw her lips to mine in a soft, quick kiss. “Let’s just sleep, and hopefully this’ll all be over when we wake up.”
“You know something, Jacob?” Humming softly, I rounded the side of my bed while Joci crawled up from the foot. She didn’t lay down immediately, and I pulled back the comforter before she spoke up again. “I think you have enough drama. You don’t need mine.”
My eyes met hers, and I shook my head slightly before climbing into bed. That comment I’d made seemed so long ago, and Joci laid down tensely on her belly. Her casted hand found its way to my chest, but— unlike her— I hadn’t bothered to take off my clothes. I was too damned tired.
“I’m glad I had the balls to approach you in that bar. Best 50$ bucks I ever spent.” Behind my shuttered lids, I could remember so vividly the look of wonder on Joci’s face when she cracked open a mozzarella stick for the first time. Gingerly cuddling to my side stiffly, her weight felt good as she slung a leg over my waist. I probably wouldn’t change anything.