Some days I felt short bursts of rage towards him. Unexplainable anger that built every time I thought of him. Even when a day passed of having not even heard his name, I still thought of him, and felt like moving away just to leave some distance between us. My fingers would scratch at the tattoo he left on my thigh, as if removing it with my finger nails would be like removing him from my life.
And other days, I traced the image and remembered the way he left it there for me. That I would have it on me for the rest of my life, and no matter how far I distanced myself from him, I would still bear a piece of him on my body.
Summer break unfolded a series of decisions to make. Dan was looking for a place to stay ever since he moved into our living room couch since his discharge at the hospital. I had a pocketful of time I needed to unload before I lost all control of my thoughts. And Scarlet was being Scarlet. She tiptoed her way in and out of conversations, and barely lingered in between her hours at work.
Dan was like that too, sometimes. I would step into the living room and his body would tense up from head to toe, as if I walked into a conversation I wasn't supposed to overhear.
Scarlet suggested that he would talk when he felt ready to, and I agreed, but his skittish mood swings were starting to creep up on me. I started thinking for too long about things I never thought about. Things like Tom and Jesse even though they had nothing to do with me. Or Nate telling Ian about what happened, and conjuring up so many scenarios that always ended up with blood on someone.
I pushed them away and dedicated myself to working at the store, as if arranging ancient furniture pieces was going to transport me back in time where I could forget all about now.
Then there was Raphael, who I avoided thinking about at all costs. Somedays, I spent hours with him constantly somewhere in my mind. Other days, I pushed him away so far back that he would stick there and I would manage a few hours without thinking about him at all.
But he was there, and significantly so after the tattoo incident. He could take a hint, and realized I needed space. But sometimes he dropped by the store and hovered around until something I didn't even know was inside me broke, and things between us almost felt normal again.
He walked in, then, around midday, allowing the leftover spring wind to waft in through the door behind him.
"I ran into Dan at the apartment," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Is he still not talking about it?"
"Still," I said.
He nodded. His hair was growing, and it flopped right over his eyebrows. I willed myself not to mention it.
"How are you?" he asked, and I felt the rope between us pull tighter. Our conversations were growing stale, and it was only a matter of time before they ceased to exist altogether.
I shrugged in response.
"I hear you're done with classes."
"I got my degree."
He frowned. "When?"
"Doesn't matter."
"So, what's the next step?"
The dreaded question. Scarlet asked the same one, after the muted celebrations and glasses of champagne. She never bothered asking it again after the first time.
"I'm not sure," I answered.
Which was a lie. There was a job waiting for me back home. A favor from a friend or other, a promise made over a series of phone conversations and Skype meetings. I hadn't made my decision yet, but the deadline was nearing.
"I'm working full time for the time being," I added.
I wasn't sure what I was waiting for. I could pack my bags now and fly over there and settle down. Settle down, and what? Have a job, find a place to stay, marry a girl.
The same sense of dread pooled into my stomach at the idea.
"That's good," and that was it. It always ended there. Where he would have normally tried to say something else, needle another word out of me.
He looked down at his shoes, and I looked down at mine. One day, I would have to give up and let it go. Perhaps he was just a season, one that occurred once every life time, a college fling, and I cringed at the thought of it.
"I'm happy for you," he said. "Congratulations. On the degree."
There was an awkward pause. "Thanks."
He took a breath, but let it go just as soon. Then he parted his lips and said, "Are you worried about Dan at all?"
"Of course I'm worried about Dan."
"You don't show it."
"He lives on our couch."
"Scarlet's couch."
I laughed. "Are you trying to start an argument? If you do, then I'm not having it."
He stared at me. Then he looked away. "I'm sorry."
"You should probably go."
"I'm tired."
"Then go," I pressed.
"I don't want to," he said. "I'm tired of this. Of you. You act so strangely all the time. None of us know how to act around you. You're always so closed off, and it's like you're tired of us too."
"I'm not," I argued, pushing myself against the counter.
"Then why are you acting the way you are?" Raphael's voice sounded strained.
My shoulders relaxed. "I'm acting the way I always have."
"Bullshit." He glanced at the door. "I'm leaving."
I didn't say anything, and watched as he watched me. He was waiting for me to stop him, but I was also tired, and right then I was tired of having to keep him around.
--
We soon found out that we were all wrong about Dan. Considerably so. Nothing serious had happened, nothing controversial, no long term effect.
Nothing that had to do with getting a girl pregnant.
"I was in a car accident," he said, suddenly.
Raphael was helping Scarlet pack for a business trip while I was at work, but we sat around the kitchen table together over dinner, and Dan decided it was time to put an end to the unrelenting suspense of how he landed himself in the hospital.
Scarlet raised her eyebrows in doubt. "A car accident."
Dan winced down at his empty plate. "More than one."
"You got into more than one car accident and you only went to the hospital after the last one left you unconscious?" I glanced at Raphael and Scarlet to make sure they heard the same words that reached my own ears. "The doctors would have known if it was a car accident. They said the cause of your injuries were unknown. They didn't even find you in a car."
Dan looked irritated, which I thought he had no right to be since he had us waiting for so long to unveil this mystery of his. "I was driving illegally. They didn't want to get in trouble so they dragged me out of the car while I was still knocked out. I woke up in the hospital and refused to say anything because I wasn't even sure how I got there."
"They?" Raphael asked, almost casually as he spooned more rice onto his plate.
Dan shrugged. "Friends?"
"How were you driving illegally?" Scarlet asked.
"Stolen cars, past speed limits, stunts, that kind of thing."
"Why?"
"We were drunk most of the time. Or high. One of the guys sold old cars for car parts and put them together. We tested them out. It usually didn't end well, but the last time was the worst out of them all because I was drunk and he told me the machine wasn't quite right. I ignored him for the thrill of it."
"That's it?" I asked. "Why didn't you tell us before?"
"I found a place," he said. "Not with the same guys. I'm only telling you so you know, but I'm leaving as soon as I can. I would feel bad if I left without an explanation."
"Who are you staying with?"
"A friend."
Raphael grinned at me. "The flowers."
"I wish," Dan said. "Those are still a mystery. I suspect one of the nurses. Probably the one who tried to get me naked the day they announced I could leave."
Raphael snorted.
"Did you get her number?"
"Fuck no."
Afterwards, Raphael said goodbye and I walked him to the door. Things were still different between us, but sometimes our conversations flowed better.
"I'm glad he's okay," Raphael said, glancing at Dan who reclined peacefully on the couch and flicked through TV channels.
"Me too," I said. "Are you?"
Raphael nodded. "Yeah. You?"
I traced over a hole in the side of my sweatpants. "I guess."
"You're leaving, aren't you?"
My tilted my head. "Why would you think that?"
"You've been avoiding us. It was inevitable all along, though, wasn't it? Do you have a job offer?"
I nodded mutely, trying hard not to look away and let him know how I felt about everything.
"I fixed the tattoo the other day. The one I messed up the first time."
I managed a smile. "That's really cool. I'm glad things are working out for you. What does it look like now?"
He shrugged, taking a step back into the hall. "You'll have to find out."
Heyy
Say I (HYPOTHETICALLY!!!) wrote a chapter in Raphael's POV, would you guys like it if I included it at the end of this book or separately on "Extras"?
Fyi there's probably just an epilogue after this lol. Ik, I'm kind of sad too.
Anyway, this either means you get Raphael's chapter in like 24 hours or after I upload the epilogue.
Does that make sense? Idk I'm just really indecisive.
Ily, thanks for reading <33