VEINS

V2: The Girl He Knew

V-2-Matthew

How pathetic can I be? I slapped my forehead. I step out of the elevator, heading straight for the parking garage. Did I honestly think I had a chance for the job? I shake my head furiously as I scoff. Ripping my car door open, I flop into the seat.

"God, I'm such an i***t!" I bang my head in light repeated hits on the steering wheel.

An i***t is not even the right word. Maybe it's better to say I'm just a natural born loser. 

“Ring! Ring! Ring!” The ringtone of my phone blares into my ears. “Ring! Ring!” With a groan, I reach into my trouser pocket and fish the thing out. 

With my head still pressed against the steering wheel, I answer the phone with a muffled voice. “Hello?” Exhaustion bleeds through my voice while I lodge the phone against my ear.  

“Matthew Bethlehem Scranton?” A familiar demanding high pitched voice invades my ear. 

My sigh comes naturally as I register the phone. Greaaat.

“It's been a month since you’ve last called me!” The pitch of voice grew urgent and as a keen blade. 

By reflex, I tug the phone a little bit away from my ear, the feedback deafeningly loud. “Has it been that long, Mom?” 

“Yes, it has been.” She confirms in a matter-of-fact tone. 

“Well?” I rub my eyes. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” 

“Matthew for god’s sake, you’re not funny.” She deadpans. 

I don’t think I was joking, but I’m not going to tell her that. 

“So? How are you today, Ma?” I wearily ask. 

“Don’t try to change the subject, Matthew. I’m calling to check on you. How are you settling in with the new job and apartment?” 

“Things are going swell.” I rub my temples, a head beginning to form. 

There’s a moment of silence on the line as she processes the brevity of my words. She’ll come to either one of two conclusions. The first I already know. 

“Matthew.” She sighs. “I can’t believe you left your job and the house, just for this ‘new opportunity’ in a city that happens to be 4 hours away. You know your father is so worried about you? More importantly, your brother!” 

There it is. 

I shut my eyes as she continues speaking. 

“Easton was so hurt when you decided to leave, and after everything he did for you? He bought the apartment for you, and even the car. Could you imagine how much it hurt him when you gave it all away and just up and left? Especially when the wedding is right around the corner!” 

The frowns burn into my face. Frustration crawls at the border of my mind. “We’re only a few minutes into our conversation, Mom. Do you have to start with right now?” 

“It’s just, Matthew, I can’t believe you did this. I’m really disappointed in you right now. Your brother needs you, and you know he does. Why did you think now was the perfect time to leave?” 

“I don’t know.” There’s a bitter, sour taste searing my tongue. 

“You know, how much we’re all worried about you, right now?” 

“Yeah, well, I’m worried about myself as well,” I say snarkily. 

“Matthew.” I can almost hear the frown in her voice. “Look, I’m sorry I didn't mean to go off you like that. I escalated way too quickly there, and I really am sorry. It’s just, there’s so much we haven’t even talked about since you left, and it feels like you’re avoiding the rest of the family. When I call you never answer and don’t reach out to any of us.” 

“I’m sorry.” I suck my teeth, guilt pinching my skin. “I’m not doing it on purpose. I’m just busy.” 

“I know. I know.” Her voice is soft. “I understand.” 

“And speaking of busy, I really have to get going.” My mouth is completely dry and arid. 

“Alright. Look, when you get the chance, please speak to Easton. You, brother, has been trying to reach your for days. He really wanted to speak to you.” 

“Uh-huh.” I distractedly respond. 

“You’ll call him, right?” 

“....” I pause to swallow stale dry air. I’m trying to find it in me to say yes. I’m trying to find it for me to understand what he’s been through in these last few months. I’m trying to find it in me to rise above the feeling of blood boiling in my skin. 

But I can’t. 

So I say nothing. 

“Matthew?” 

“I’ve got to go, Mom.” I quickly hang up the phone and gradually lift my head from the steering wheel. 

For a second, I’ve got that feeling again. That feeling like being trapped in a cold blanket of chilly, freezing waters. A feeling that I’m sinking underneath some nonexistent waves. A feeling that I can’t breathe. A feeling that I’m drowning. 

I f*****g hate this. 

Sighing, I jam the key into the ignition. The car doesn't make a sound. Not even a peep of life comes when I try again. The engine is dead.

Right, the engine is dead.

I already know this car is ancient, so I shouldn't be shocked. I shouldn't.

I step out of my car, shutting the door, which the impact on the door hinges is enough to snap it clean off. With a loud c***k, that’s all it takes for my car door to fall off.

"Ha." I wryly laugh at the absurdity of it;My car door fell off.

"Ha-ha..” I laugh again, staring blank eyed at the car door. Did my car door really...just fall off?

I step back, a wince growing inside my throat.

Don't get frustrated, angry, or mad. Just...take a deep breath.

"Okay." I shrug, "okay." I'll just walk home and get it towed later. That’s right, I’ll pay the expensive fee to get it towed, and the expensive fee to go back to my mechanic and get it fixed. While I’m there, they’ll probably fix it, and suddenly also find a reason why the engine needs to be changed, and suddenly the price of towing will include the price of even more expensive repairs. Oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? 

Right.

I grip my fists. 

Let’s just...walk home. Because it doesn't look weird for an adult man in his only suit to be walking miles towards home. Not at f*****g all. 

I zip through the crowded streets, my outgrown trousers making each stride an uncomfortable action.

fuck.

fuck.

Escaping from the crowds of smells of sweat, sounds of overlapping voices, and miles of unfamiliar faces, I pushed on further, passing corporate buildings, dying out to smaller residential blocks.

Fuc—Don't. Curse.

Grandad West always said my "potty mouth" would eventually and quite easily earn me some bad luck. Lately these days, I'm strongly beginning to believe him. 

No. No, no, what am I saying these days? That's not at all true. Grandad West was just as old as he was senile. This was the same man who said he had stolen the wing from a beautiful f*****g fairy. 

I dig my fingers into the palm of my fists.

No. I can’t let the phone call from Mom and my car down piss me off like this. I’ve got to stay calm. 

That’s right. I’m calm and I’m optimistic. I’m not going to spend my entire day thinking about Easton, my family, and my crappy bad luck I have. I didn't move 20 hours away from them to still be affected by them. 

That’s why I need to focus on what’s next. Finding a job. Paying my rent. And not getting f*****g evicted. 

I need a steady source of income or it's hello shelter. So no matter how I frame it or muse on it, I need a damn job. While I'm at it maybe I can learn how to not be the world's best loser?

My hands slip into my pockets as I hastily fish for a cigarette.

Well, now that I think about it, even if I wasn't so pathetic, I'll always be under his shadow. I get jobs because of him. I lose jobs because of him. I have to leave jobs because of him. I had to move because of him. I lost everything because of him. In fact, maybe it's not a stretch to say my entire livelihood and life depends on him!

Stop. Shut up, Matthew. This is pathetic. I need to quiet my thoughts right now. 

Immediately, I try to shut my writing and rambling thoughts. Just as I managed to ease the storm of thoughts in my head, my fingers grazed my cigarette box. Lighting it, I inhale sharply, already feeling a short sense of ease.

I need to stop. I rub the center of my forehead with my thumb as I sigh. I can't spend all day thinking of a cloud overcast. Puffing in exasperation, I stand patiently waiting at a crosswalk. I watch as the sky shifts; the sun falling behind the plump dark sooty clouds, turning most of the glass buildings into colors of dimmed greys. 

My eyes dance around empty streets, spotting patches of moving bodies slipping inside and out of corner stores. Cars seemed to drag, waiting on bright red lights to transform to green. I inhale once more, savoring the calming taste of nicotine seeping into my mouth. In the still of waiting at the crosswalk, I smell a grainy hint of possible rain and hear the distant calls of birds. The city is really dead today. Or maybe it's always been dead and dreary. Now that I think about it, I've never remembered a day in my life when life hasn't looked stark and harsh. Smoke puffs swim around me, and I can only squint at the street. Potholes and polluted uneven streets.

I’ve always thought it was strange. I escaped to live in a big city like this, a city with all the rowdy bustle and life and people, and yet nothing can make me forget I'm standing here alone. There’s nothing I can even do to run, because in the crowd and commotion I can’t escape, and I can’t disappear. 

Nothing. 

"Excuse me sir, do you mind?" A high-pitched female's voice took my focus, knocking me out of my flow of thoughts. On my left, a slim black-haired woman cradling a small child peered at me. Her head slightly nudges towards the burning cigarette between my lips.

"The smell is really strong.” She adjusts her grip on the child sprawled over her.

"Oh." I nod slowly. “Sure---?”

My eyes scan her, and for a second, I see a familiar face; long silky black hair meticulously pinned up, inky jet-black eyes that glisten like a night sky, the smile lines of a mischievous grin, and a face that glowed like the sun. 

My mouth hangs open, my cigarette falling from my gaping mouth and crashing into the ground. “A-Angelica?” I mumble out the words as I peer at the woman. 

“I’m sorry?” Confusion builds in her eyes. 

I’m quick to blink, while reality was fast to strike. 

The image of a beautiful smiling woman dressed in favorite purples fades away from my sight as the woman holding her child continues to return my stare with befuddlement. 

“Angelica?” She questions. 

“I-I-I.” Red flushed into my face. “I’m sorry, I mixed up with the wrong person.” I hand my head a little low. 

Crap, now I’m seeing things? I thought I had stopped thinking about Angelica. I thought I had given up on Angelica. 

"Sorry. Again." I brush ashes off my suit, and make a motion to move, but the woman’s voice stops me. 

"Thank you, for that. I know some people who get offended when I ask them to stop smoking in front of my child. My husband included." Her eyes do a double take on me. “I tell him all the time, quitting smoking at any age will give you major and immediate health benefits, and in response he yells at me." Her eyes peered directly at me as she smiled.

There’s a stinging in my chest. A terrible fiery, unquenchable pain pounding through my ribs. I can’t stop thinking about Angelica. I can still faintly see the resemblance of this woman in her, and even her voice is close enough to trick me. 

“Anyway,” the woman continues, “I really did want to thank you. It's refreshing to know all the good people are still out here and around me.” 

"Oh, really?" I stuff my hands into my pockets, giving her a weak smile. I resist the urge to deny the water feeling in my eyes. 

"Well, that, and the fact that you looked like you needed someone to interrupt you from your thoughts.” Her smile softens to a politer gleam as she once more adjusts the young sleeping child resting on her chest. 

The crosswalk lights flashes indicating a glowing white walking man.

"Right thanks." I cast her side glance walking ahead. 

Angelica. 

For a moment, I seal my eyes. I hate thinking about her. I hate thinking about them. What’s happened is what’s happened. I need to leave them behind me. I have to leave it behind me. No matter what, things have to be different from how things were before. They have to be. If they're not, then I’m afraid I’ll never really escape, will I? 

My fingers dip into my pocket, pulling out another cigarette. With trembling lips, I light the cigarette. 

I moved to get away. I moved to be different from before. I have to make this work. 

I have to kill my old life, and the old me. 

Or at least something similarly dramatic like that. 

My shoes slid against the uneven concrete riddled with blackened gum gunks as far as the eye can see.

"VRR!" A familiar vibration rivets through my back pocket. I tug my phone out. The screen lights quickly to reveal no one other than the person I don't want to speak to. I can't seem to wrap my head around why he keeps calling me.

"VRR!" Easton's name shines brightly from my phone screen.

"VRR!"

 I'm not speaking to the person who ruined my life. That's not happening on top of all junk already in my bag of bad things happening. Continuing to swim down the streets, I stare at my vibrating phone screen.

"VRR!" 

It's a good thing phones have a 'sorry can't talk right now feature'. Opening my text messages, my fingers ran against the keyboard.

'Sorry I can't talk right now because I'm super busy'

He won't believe that. I erase the text quickly. Shouldn't I type something more fitting?

'Sorry I can't talk right now because I'm slowly dying inside every moment I think about you and the family. Not only that, Mom just called me to beg me to call you and forget everything that you’ve done. Forget that no matter where I go or what I do, my famous brother is always in my face 24/ f*****g 7’

Obviously not that. 

I don't think that will work either. Maybe I should text something from the bottom of my heart.

'I don't want to talk to you because of everything you’ve done. You took my dreams, lied to me,  and even betrayed me. You took everything from me. So naturally it's bound I don't want to talk to someone like that right now, or maybe forever. I’m sorry about what happened to Fiona, really, but I’ve been sacrificing for you since you were born, so right now, for once in my life, I have to focus on myself. I have to focus on that or I’m literally going to go insane so leave me alone and stop calling '

I stare hard at my phone screen. The blue light blares directly into my eyes as I view the text. There's no need to text him back. I'll just wasting my time and effort. What's the worst that could happen from ignoring another one of his phone calls? 

"SPLASH!" A loud, gruff screech follows behind the splash. I tumble back a few steps after bumping into what feels like a stone wall.

"What the hell!" He cries. 

Okay. Seriously?

Instantly, the annoyance in me bubbles over as I quickly snap. "I should be saying what the hell, man! Why don't you watch where you're going?!" I loudly quip, my head whipping upwards. I'm not in any mood to bump heads with anything today, expect my bed of defeat, and most likely tears.

Oh.

A man two times the size of me towering easily, a 6'8 grapples his chest. He's holding on to a coffee cup.

An empty coffee cup.

The contents are splayed across his white suit, the steam still visible.

      TO BE CONTINUED IN VAMP!