Beside You

Beside You Ch. 17: I Am Broken Too 1/2

Chapter Seventeen: I Am Broken Too Part 1 of 2

I didn’t like the way my mind wanted to f**k with me.

I know what happened earlier. I was there.

Still, I kept running through different scenarios in my mind.

So many different things could have happened. For all I know, some things did happen.

I hated today.

It was supposed to be a good day.

How could I have been so stupid?

I fooled myself into thinking that I was safe here.

Then f*****g Steven finds me here.

I felt sick.

Damn it, I felt like I wanted to run away.

Anxiety gripped me tightly as I tried to calm myself down.

Why? Out of all the places he had to be, did it have to be here?

Why did he have to be related to Benny?

It was getting hard to breathe.

Why couldn’t I forget about anything and everything that boy did?

The handle jiggled.

My head shot up, and I was quick to wrap my arms around the boy that stood confused in the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “It took a little longer than I thought.”

He wrapped his arms around me, despite the bags in his hands.

I couldn’t help but cry.

I hated Steven.

I didn’t want to feel this way about another human being, but I hated him.

“What the f**k did that fucker do to you?” Michael asked.

His voice was quiet as if trying not to startle me.

He moved back a little to set the bags down, forcing me to release him from my grip.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

He shook his head, and his arms opened again for me to step into them.

Was Michael always like this?

I closed the distance, and I wrapped my arms around him.

His arms went around me. His right hand pulled me closer by my lower back, while his left hand moved up and down my back soothingly.

“You’re okay now,” he soothed.

I nodded against him, despite the constant flow of tears.

“I can’t believe it was him,” he said, “What a f*****g idiot.”

Michael sounded genuinely bothered.

“Mayren,” Michael whispered, unsure.

“Michael,” I managed to say through sobs.

I felt his chin on the top of my head.

His body felt so big, so firm, so strong, and so damn warm.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, “It’s your name.”

I couldn’t manage to say it. The sobs wouldn’t allow me an adequate chance to breathe.

He moved just slightly to the side before gently moving me a little to the other side.

He was rocking me back and forth.

I slowly loosened my grip around him and slowly brought my hands up his back.

He took in a sharp breath.

My hands stopped at the backs of his shoulders.

I don’t know how he did it, but he did.

I was able to breathe.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

I pulled away just a little to nod.

I could see the concern on his face, but he didn’t voice it.

“I’m sorry about all that,” I mumbled.

“No,” he said, “You don’t need to apologize for that kind of stuff.”

I nodded slowly.

“I’m here for you,” he said, “Benny and Gus too.”

I nodded, feeling my eyes starting to water again.

These ones I was able to force away.

“And I’m here for you,” I said, “For Benny and Gus too.”

I knew how sappy it was before it came out of my mouth.

That didn’t matter. I was loving this moment.

It pained me to think it.

It made me love this boy more.

The second it crossed my mind, my gaze hit the floor.

“Sappy,” Michael said.

I could hear the smile in his voice.

I can’t keep reminding myself to let him go. He likes you. He’s not in like with you.

The silence felt a little heavy.

“So,” Michael said, “I got a couple different things.”

He picked up the bags only to set them down again, but on the bed this time.

“It felt like you needed something stronger than beer,” he said, “But I got something like beer, in case I was wrong.”

I nodded, “Both were a good idea.”

He smiled with just a little bit of teeth.

My heart pounded in my ears. I don’t see a lot of smiles quite like that one.

“Harder stuff first,” I said.

“Harder stuff isn’t cold,” he said, “So could be a good idea, or it could be a bad one.”

I almost had to think about it, “It’s a good one.”

I heard it hits you harder if it’s warm.

Though I didn’t really know for sure, since I’ve never really been a big drinker.

I’ve had beer and wine coolers here and there.

I can’t say I’ve really had anything considered as hard liquor before.

“What did you get?” I asked, sitting on the bed next to the bags.

He smiled slightly as he pulled out a bottle with brown liquid in it. Not too dark.

“Black Label,” he said, showing me the bottle.

It indeed had a black label on it.

“Not bad for the price,” he said, “It’s actually pretty f*****g good for the price.”

I nodded as he went back to the bags.

I watched as he pulled out several different cans, all-white or silver.

“What are those?” I asked, grabbing the thin can.

I read the words before he could even say it.

“What’s a White Claw?” I asked.

“Girly beer,” Michael stated.

There were different colored ones.

“I also got this one,” Michael pulled out another bottle.

It looked like yellow liquid.

“Peach vodka,” he said.

I glanced down to see two large yellow cans.

“And those?”

“I wanted to try one,” he shrugged, “So I got one for you too.”

I nodded slowly.

“Twisted Tea,” he said, “Tea and Lemonade.”

That didn’t sound too bad actually.

“So which one first?” I asked.

He held up the peach vodka.

“Shot of this first,” he said, “Then I’m going to put them in the freezer.”

I nodded.

Michael pulled out a little box with five tall shot glasses in it.

“You bought new shot glasses?” I asked, “You don’t already have some?”

He hesitated before he shook his head, “I always drink out of the bottle.”

That made sense.

“Thank you,” I said.

He looked a little surprised.

I wasn’t going to get mad at him for doing something nice for me. He thought about me, and he went above and beyond.

Why wouldn’t he just let me love him?

He ripped open the packaging and looked at each one to study them.

“Which one do you want?”

He handed one to me, then another, and then another until all five were in my hands.

They didn’t have any pictures on them. They were just different colors.

One was blue, one was orange, another was pink, and then green, the last one was clear.

I looked at all of them, trying to decide which one I wanted.

“Blue,” I said with a hard nod.

“Alright,” he said.

He took them from me and went to the bathroom.

I was going to ask him what he was doing, but then I heard the faucet turn on.

He is washing them?

I found myself smiling a little at that.

Was it normal to feel this good over stupid stuff like that?

I sat a little awkwardly, waiting for him to finish up.

Why couldn’t I help him?

I grabbed several of the thin cans and placed them in the small refrigerator by the bed.

I repeated the process until all the cans were in the fridge and the Black Label was in the small freezer.

The only things left out are the tall yellow tea cans and the peach vodka.

The other bag had chips and a couple other small snacks. I have yet to check.

I sat back on the bed once I was finished.

Michael emerged from the bathroom with only two of the shot glasses.

One glass was the blue one, the other was pink.

“Pink?” I asked.

He shrugged, “Is liking pink wrong?”

I shook my head.

I just wasn’t the biggest fan of the color pink.

“They didn’t have any with red,” Michael shrugged, “Pink is the closest.”

Why red?

He glanced at the spot he had set all the drinks. His gaze went to me with a questioning look.

I pointed to the small fridge.

“I put them away,” I said.

He only nodded before setting the shots down onto the TV stand/dresser.

I watched him grab the glass bottle from the bed and twisted it open.

It was a little strange to watch. It felt like he’s opened plenty of bottles before.

Of course I already know that he’s a drinker. Still, it felt strange to watch.

He filled the blue glass to the top but poured the pink one just under the rim.

“Come and get it,” he said.

I stood up quickly to grab my glass.

Michael held his out towards me.

I grinned as I lightly tapped my glass to his.

We both downed our shots.

It had a bit of a sweet taste, but it mostly just burned.

Michael made a face once his drink was gone.

I set the blue glass back on the dresser.

“That tasted worse than I thought it would.”

“You haven’t tried it before?” I asked, “Then why did you get it?”

He glanced to the side a little awkwardly, “I wasn’t sure what you would like.”

This boy.

My heart.

Damn it.

“Thank you,” I said with a small smile.

He set his pink glass next to mine.

“You aren’t mad?” he asked, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted all of this.”

He gestured to the bags.

I shook my head, “I didn’t know what I needed, but I do appreciate this.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

I nodded, “Yeah.”

Was it warm in here, or was it just me?

My stomach felt the full extent of the vodka. It felt like a heater, warming me up from the inside out.

“I have a lot of questions,” Michael said.

My eyes locked with his.

“I’m not quite there yet,” I admitted.

He nodded.

“But you can still ask,” I said, “If you want.”

He looked like he was thinking about it for a minute, but then he shook his head.

“Do you want to try the tea?” he asked.

He picked them up and held one out to me.

I pointed at the peach vodka, “Can I have another shot first?”

He made a face as if unsure.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I nodded.

He poured another shot, but only filled the blue one.

“Didn’t like it?” I asked.

“It’s not terrible,” he said, “I’ve had worse.”

I drank my shot and set the blue glass down before I even swallowed all of it.

“Tell me what your plan is,” Michael said.

Huh?

“My plan?” I asked.

He nodded.

“You wanted to drink,” he said, “You said that you wanted to forget today happened.”

I forgot about that, mostly.

I nodded.

“Is that still how you feel?” he asked.

My head shook slowly.

I wanted to remember every second I had with him, but I needed this shitty feeling from earlier to go away already.

I took the tea and cracked it open.

“Ren,” Michael asked. It was so quiet I barely heard it.

“Hmm?” I asked just before taking a drink of the tea.

“What did he mean,” he hesitated, “That your mom sent you to fat camp?”

I frowned.

I had a feeling that he would ask about that. I just wasn’t sure how soon he’d actually ask.

“She did,” I admitted.

He opened his mouth to speak but shut it.

“It was hard,” I said, “And I hated every second of it.”

I couldn’t decipher what the look on his face meant.

“What?” I asked.

He only shook his head.

I could see anger in those blue eyes.

“Tell me,” I said.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt both of those shots.

The world swayed, and I don’t know if I actually moved or if my vision was just messing with me.

“Your mother pisses me off,” he said flatly.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“She pisses me off too.”

I felt the world sway again. This time it was me. Michael had to take my tea from me so that I didn’t spill it.

“Ren,” he said, even though it sounded like a warning.

“I feel it now,” I said.

“I can see that,” Michael said back.

I waited to see if he was going to say something else, but he didn’t.

As I watched him, I could feel the weight on my shoulders falling away.

Oh.

I guess I get why Michael drinks.

It feels a little too good.

I reached for the tea, but Michael moved it just out of my reach.

“What?” I asked, “I’m okay.”

He eyed me suspiciously.

“Michael,” I whined.

“Ren,” he said firmly.

“Really,” I said, “I’m fine.”

I felt lighter, and it was strange.

He took a drink of the tea before handing it back to me.

“Thank you,” I said.

I took a big drink.

It tasted funny, but it wasn’t bad.

“Ren,” Michael said, “Talk to me.”

I stared at him for a minute, and I thought about telling him everything.

I thought about telling him about all the things I’ve gone through. I thought about telling him about how things were when I was young. I thought about telling him about how things used to be great.

I knew better.

My head c****d to the side.

“Tell me something about you,” I said, “I feel like I barely know anything.”

He frowned, “Something like what?”

I didn’t know.

There were so many things I didn’t know about Michael, and I wanted to know it all.

I was a little buzzed, and I was feeling brave.

“Tell me something about your mother,” I said.

I knew that Benny told me never to ask about his mother, but I felt like I needed something, no matter how small.

He looked irritated.

“Ren,” he said, clearly trying not to snap at me.

“I want to know,” I said, “Anything. I’m not asking for everything.”

He took in a breath, “If I do, will you talk to me?”

“If we can both talk about stuff,” I said, “Then yes.”

“Okay,” he said.

He took the tea from me to take a big drink.

I probably should have given him crap for drinking from my tea, but I enjoyed it a little more than I should have.

“My mother was sick,” he admitted, “When she was young, she was diagnosed with Schizophrenia.”

I felt a cold shiver run through me. It was nearly enough to sober me.

I wasn’t even sure how to respond to that.

“If that wasn’t hard enough,” he said, “She also had early-onset dementia.”

Oh f**k.

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

He shook his head and took his hand away.

I frowned, feeling rejected.

“Did I ever tell you that I also have a step-dad?” I asked him.

Michael shook his head.

“He pretended I didn’t exist,” I admitted, “Because he wanted his own family.”

“And what did your mother say?” he asked.

“She wanted him more than she wanted me,” I admitted.

“And your father?” he asked.

I nearly choked on a laugh.

Michael looked at me like he could tell something was wrong.

“Ren?” he asked, “What about him?”

“I don’t know where he is,” I said.

“Did he leave?”

I shook my head, “He was forced to.”

“Tell me.”

Why did he want to delve so deep into my s**t but barely tell me anything about himself?

“There is a lot to tell,” I said, “But I guess I could compress it.”

He stood there waiting for me to talk.

I didn’t speak for a good ten minutes at least.

“My mother is a jealous person,” I said, “As far back as I can remember, she’s always been that way.”

“Jealous?” he asked, “About what?”

I made a face, “It’s actually ridiculous.”

He didn’t say anything.

“She didn’t like the way my father doted on me,” I said, “She wanted his attention.”

Michael looked furious.

“My dad always thought it was a little cute,” I felt my mouth go dry, “Until she accused him of touching me.”