Chapter 1
I’m pissed.
I’m fucking pissed.
Is pissed even the right word to describe this feeling?
I know I’m angry because they’re together. He is my brother. She is my best friend. It was kinda obvious they would end up together. Him my brother and her my best friend. But I’m still pissed.
I knew Eli even before I spoke to her. I had always admired her from a distance. The way she stuck her tongue out of her mouth when she was concentrating, how guarded her expression was, how confident her gait was. Those voluptuous red curls. I noticed all of it. But I was scared. It’s ridiculous honestly. The ‘great’ Josh Bennett, scared to ask a girl out. Abe meeting her was the perfect avenue for me to swoop in and sweep her for her feet. But I didn’t get my happy ending.
And so while I was falling in love with her, she was falling in love with my older brother. My perfect older brother. The ‘golden’ boy of Westreet Prep. Abe doesn’t even try. He just excels at everything.
But for a moment, I was genuinely happy for them. That was the moment I found my own happiness. I didn’t believe in soulmates until I met Tris Baker. Tris is was the exception to the rule. With her wispy green hair and that silver tongue piercing that had my heart racing every time she licked her lips. I knew it was love from the very first moment my blue eyes locked with her dark brown eyes.
At the time, I hadn’t even thought to compare how her brown eyes were darker, like coffee beans unlike Eli’s which are a lighter almost honey-like shade.
I can never forget her first words to me: “You’re hotter than she implied.”
And my first words were: “So are you.”
For a while, we both just stood there, next to the pool, staring into each other’s eyes. Slowly, a smirk broke out on her face. I felt my face crack up to mirror hers.
“Tris Baker,” she stuck her hand out and I shook it, feeling warmth explode on my fingertips like never before as I held her. She seemed to notice it too as she gasped and pulled her hand away.
“Are you wearing an electric shock buzzer?” She questioned, pupils dilating.
“Nope,” I answered honestly. “But I guess that means I’m not the only one that felt the sparks flying between his.”
She let out a laugh. It wasn’t like Eli’s- I hadn’t made this comparison at the time. Tris’s laughter was special. It was cackling and throaty and enthusiastic. And it brought a smile to my face. The first real smile I had had in a long time.
But Tris is gone now. She chose to leave the world because I wasn’t good enough a reason for her to fight her demons and push on forward. I understand that I truly do. I would end my own life but I am too much of a coward. I don’t want to think about life after death, especially if there is a chance that Tris won’t be in hell waiting for me.
Today is not a good day.
It’s the prom.
I should be thrilled because I have been nominated for prom king. But everyone already now Kevin Durant has the position in the bag. Even so, it is nice to carry this frivolous hope in my heart. It’s only in the morning which means I have about five more hours to the prom. Six different girls have asked me to go with them. Two are cheerleaders, one is in the marching band and the others I never heard off until they asked me. At the start, of the semester I was dating Christine Mitchell. But Christine isn’t capable of human emotions and I don’t think I was capable of feeling human emotions towards her. We both agreed it was a casual arrangement for sex only. And that’s how it went. I know she is going to the prom with Kevin Durant, I think she accepted that my brother isn’t going to fall for her feminine wiles when he walked away from her shortly after she began stripping at the celebratory party after the play in Spain.
With all these thoughts dragging down on my mind, I reluctantly get out of my bed and check my mirror first. There are no new zits or pimples on my face- thank the heavens. But unfortunately, that also means I don’t have an excuse not to go to the prom and I need to choose a date. There are a lot of viable candidates to choose from. But every time I think about all those pretty girls who throw themselves at me, my mind goes back to Eli.
No! I chide myself. I can’t think about her. She’s with Abe. They are in love. They are happy.
I repeat the words to myself as I go through my morning routine. I repeat the words to myself as I go into the kitchen and gorge down my breakfast before borrowing a basket of fruits. I repeat the words to myself as I carefully place the basket in the passenger seat of my car and drive to the treehouse.
I listen to The J. Geil Band’s Love Stinks on repeat throughout the drive. The lyrics, “you love her but she loves him” repeat themselves in my mind through the drive. I ingrain them in my mind until hopefully my heart finally decides to start acknowledging reality.
I climb up into the treehouse with my basket of fruit and quickly get to work.
When I was in kindergarten, we were taught how to make still-life by watching. The teachers would bring a bunch of random items to the class and ask as to watch and draw them. My favourite things to draw were the fruits. Because when it was done, we would get to eat them up.
It’s been several years but I still use this method to produce my still-life. I am in the mood for some blood oranges so that’s the fruit that fills the basket. Blood oranges with ice cream on a hot summer day is the perfect way to go.
I draw the fruit, but my gaze keeps flicking back to the painting of Eli.
Why?
I feel a painful ache in my chest and I touch it, squeezing my hand over it as if I can squeeze out all the pain. But this is emotional pain.
Finally, deciding that I can’t take this anymore, I move over to the painting and yank it off the wall. I am about to break it over my knee when I catch my reflection on the silvered surface of the mini-fridge. I look mad.
I’m going mad.
This love has turned me into a mad man.
I have heard it said that “if love isn’t madness it is not love”. But those people forget that if it is only one person feeling the love, then the madness is not in a good way.
Unfortunately, the people we fall in love with don’t always fall in love with us.
It is hard to let go and move on even when we know that is the best thing I can do.
I want to move on from Eli. I have tried to move on from her. But I just can’t. I guess it’s because when I first realized what I was feeling for her bottled it up and buried it deep in my heart. And now pulling it out and tossing the bottle into the sea is proving to be difficult. Nobody ever thinks of how they will remove the asphalt when they are making the road. That is what has happened to me.
I need to tell someone about this. But who? I usually talk to Abe about these things but I don’t think he will take the news that his brother has been secretly in love with his girlfriend very well. I can’t go to Keith about it either because his loyalties are to Abe first.
My parents are a big no. I can think of only one other person I can ask for help from.
“Hello? Uncle Ezzy?” I ask a little uneasily. Because even though he gave me the number and told me to call when I need help I never actually imagined that I would be doing this. And I certainly didn’t imagine that he would pick up after the first ring.
“Josh?” Hie voice is gruff on the other end of the phone.
“Yeah,” I answer. “How did you know?”
His short chortle crinkles over the transmission. “You are the only one who calls me Uncle Ezzy, remember?”
“Oh right,” I feel a flush of warmth in my cheeks. “Can we talk?”
“Of course, where do you want to meet? I’m not allowed in your house so maybe you can come over to my place?”
The feud between my father and his brother is not one I know the details of. The little I know is that they butt heads on many topics so they are no longer in speaking terms. Because of this, dad banned Uncle Ezzy from our house. He told us that Uncle Ezzy was going to a faraway place but I know this is not true because I was hiding at the staircase when Uncle Ezzy and dad had their fall out and dad told him never to show his face in our house again.
I don’t realize I got lost in my thoughts until his nervous rambling fills my ears.
“We can meet at a coffee shop or mall if you would prefer a more public space.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I will come to your house. What’s the address?”
Uncle Ezzy texts me the address and a while later, I park in the parking lot of his apartment building. I hope the resident of apartment number B7 doesn’t mind. The apartment building is a tall, bland building with peeling blue paint and with television aerials sticking out from the verandas. It has three flats on each side, and Uncle Ezzy’s is on the ground floor on the left.
Uncle Ezzy emerges from the building in a pair of shorts, rubbing his hands over the front of his plain T-shirt. The skin at his knees is very dark.
“Josh!” He barely waits for me to come out of the car before squeezing me in a tight hug. He pulls me away just as quickly to examine me. “You certainly have aged.”
“Well, it has been three years,” I say.
Uncle proceeds as if he didn’t hear my comment saying, “come on inside, I was just making brunch.”
The apartment building is small and cramped. Both Uncle Ezzy and I have to duck our heads to get in. Uncle Ezzy walks crab-wise. The furniture is sparse, the walls painted the same colour as the exterior of the building. But everything is clean. And the smell of baking wafts into the living room from the kitchen.
“Have a seat,” Uncle Ezzy offers, pointing at the wing back chair which comes in a darker shade of blue. A similar to the blue of my older brother Tim’s eyes. “Water or juice?”
“Just water is fine, thank you,” I say politely. It feels weird being polite.
Uncle Ezzy seems to noticethois as he looks at me with an odd expression before stepping into the kitchen and returning a few minutes later with a glass of water. I drain its contents in one gulp, carefully placing the glass on the centre table.
Uncle Ezzy sits in the chair across from me, leaning forward with his hands clasped on his knees. He hasn’t looked away from me since I pulled over in the parking space.
The silence is comfortable yet I hate it. “I wanted to talk to you about something very important. I actually wanted to ask for your advice.”
He leans even closer. “Ask away.”
And so I tell Uncle Ezzy the story. The story of how I have had a major crush on Eli even before I started talking to her. The story of how she and my older brother are in love and are in a happy relationship. The story of how I hate both of them for causing me to go through this heartache, albeit inadvertently.
When I’m done, Uncle Ezzy nods his head. “I think you need to move away. You’re graduating in a few months right?”
“Yeah,” I answer. I am about to ask him how he knows this but he continues speaking.
“I think you should move somewhere far. You need a break from Abe and this girl. Because the feelings you have for her can be really toxic to both your friendship with the girl and your relationship with your brother.”
I notice how he refers to Abe as my brother and not “my nephew”. I don’t know if that is supposed to mean something.
“I think it would be good for you to be far away from Henry.” He says this so quietly I almost don’t hear it. But I catch the words never the less.
“What happened between you and dad?”
“What happened between your father and I is not important.” I purse my lips, ready to argue and demand a proper answer when a buzzer goes off in the kitchen. A smile slips onto Uncle Ezzy’s face. “How do you feel about crumpets?”
It is painfully obvious that Uncle Ezzy wished I had stayed longer. We ate bacon and egg crumpet melts while discussing football statics in the English Premier League. Liverpool has been continuing their winning streak and Manchester City disappoints more and more each game. They lost to Chelsea in December. Uncle Ezzy tells me funny war stories, carefully avoiding all the ones filled with gore and loss. Around seven pm, I take my leave. I would love to stay but I have to artend the prom.
I decide to go to the prom with a girl called Emery Memphis from the cheerleading team. Emery is Eli’s opposite in every possible way, which is why she is perfect for the job. Blonde, tall and snobbish. We have been casually flirting these past weeks. I’m not surprised when she replies yes to my last-minute offer to go to the dance together.
When I get home Abe is helping mom fold the laundry in the living room in front of the television which has some Mexican novella going on. Abe’s blue eyes question me when he holds my gaze. The blues ask: where were you?
Mine say something along the lines of, don’t wanna talk about it.
He nods slightly so I know that the telepathic message was delivered. I go up to my room to choose an outfit for the dance. I didn’t bother to pre-order a tux, so I have to whip up an outfit quickly. I pick a shirt from a hanger, it is cornflower blue and appears to compliment my eyes. I decide on some black slacks to go with it.
The only part of my look that matters to me is my hair. I use a special blend of different hair products to give my hair its special shine. I spend close to an hour in front of the mirror fixing my hair into a look that is understated but still effortlessly (not!) stylish.
When I’m done, I check my watch. I have finished with forty minutes to spare. That is certainly enough time for me to pick Emery up from her home address. I know she lives with her both her parents on the outskirts of town.
When I get downstairs, Abe is retrieving a box from the fridge.
“What’s that?” I question.
“A corsage,” he answers. “You didn’t get one for your date?”
“Is it compulsory?” I ask a little peeved at his tone which sounds a bit condescending in my ears. But Abe is anything but condescending so it is probably just in my mind.
“No,” he buffs a breath. “It’s just etiquette.”
Etiquette.
Etiquette.
Etiquette.
The word repeats in my mind as I sit in my car and drive away from my house. I hate how it makes me feel. Like Abe is doing the right thing and I know the right thing but I’m not doing it. Finally, I decided to stop at a flower shop along the highway to ask for a corsage.
The lady at the front desk politely says, “I’m sorry sir, we are all out.”
Fuck! Why did I forget that all the schools in the district have prom on the same Saturday night?
I glance around the shop, my eyes lighting up when I see a bunch of flowers. It’s an ugly combination of colours that don’t match but I think it is a corsage nonetheless.
“What about those?” I ask, pointing to the flowers.
“Are you sure?” The lady looks at me as though I am quite mad.
“They are flowers, aren’t they?” I ask a little rudely.
“Well,” she stammers. “They are not actually flowers. What I mean is that they are fake flowers. They are made of silk. And they cost twice as much as the regular corsages because they are so expensive to handle.”
“I’ll take it,” I gruff.
“Sir, I don’t think you heard what I said, these flowers are fake. They have no scent. And frankly, they aren’t very pretty to look at.”
“I don’t care,” I say coldly. “I’ll take it.”
The lady places them in a box similar to the one Abe’s corsage for Eli was in.
But those flowers were beautiful white orchids. This is a mix of purple hibiscus, yellow Ixora, and orange daisies.
Abe got the perfect flowers. Mine are just plain old ugly. Just like my heart.
My plain old ugly heart.
Dismissing my self-deprecating thoughts because they are exacerbating, I drive away after giving the lady the stipulated price.
When I get to Emery’s house, she is waiting for me on the front porch.
“Shall we go in?” I ask, staring at her dress. It’s a ridiculously bright shade of pink that I can’t keep my eyes on for more than five seconds without thinking about DayGlo. There’s a silver wire necklace on her neck that has a butterfly pendant that I like.
Probably the only thing I like about her. I imagine the necklace on the creamy neck of a different girl. A redhaired-
Stop it!
I force my eyes shut, trying to get the image of Eli’s collar bone out of my head. I’m such a pervert. A worthless prick-
“Why are you late, Joshie?”
The nickname makes my ears bleed, and I grimace. “I got caught in traffic.”
Lie.
I’ll add that to my sins when I go into the confessional which is happening... (drumroll please)... (you guessed it): never.
“My parents already left for their meeting.”
Amen to that, I can’t help but think.
Emery wanted me to meet her parents before we left. I’m glad that doesn’t happen.
“I got this for you,” I say, thrusting the box into her hands. She doesn’t hide her scowl as she stares at the flowers. She plucks a single daisy from the bunch and takes it to her nose.
“No scent.”
“It is made of silk,” I feel the need to explain. “More expensive than regular flowers.”
“Uglier too,” she doesn’t try to hide her snide comment. I roll my eyes for her and don’t bother to open the car door for her as I get into the driver side.
“We’re going to be late to the dance,” Emery frowns at the dash clock. “This is your fault.”
As if I already don’t know that, I think bitterly. I’m always the one who messes up.
The night has only just begun and I already know it is going to be a shitty night.
Fuck me.
