Four: Harmless Fun
Sundays had become what I like to call “Mila Day.” Mila is my little sister, she’s ten years old and has the biggest personality of anyone I know. Though I’m not close with my dad after he had an affair behind my mother’s back when I was young, Mila was the best thing that came out of it and she made me a better person in every way. Being in New York with her still living in North Carolina, I felt like I would be missing parts of her life and I didn’t want to lose the bond that I’ve always had with her.
Mila was a special girl. She was extremely dramatic for her age but also so intelligent, never failing to amaze me with whatever she said.
The only downfall about Mila was that she looks like her mother, the woman my dad fucked around with behind my mother’s back but I could put my hate for Allison aside and love Mila without conditions.
Her hair was blonde and getting longer each time that I video chatted with her. She hated getting haircuts because apparently all mermaids have long hair.
“It’s almost my birthday, Tommy.” She said into the camera with an energetic smile on her face, “Do you wanna know what to get me because I have plenty of suggestions.”
“I’m not sure that’s how birthday presents work, kiddo.” I told her, giving her a little smirk.
Mila sighed heavily and tilted her head, causing her long hair to fall to one side, “You make a lot of money and my birthday and Christmas is the only time of the year that I get things.”
She was good at playing people, I knew for sure that she was lying because my dad and Allison completely spoiled that crap out of the kid. She usually got whatever she wanted whenever she wanted.
I chuckled and shook my head in response, “I already got your birthday gift, sorry.”
I noticed Mila’s attention turning away from the screen where her bedroom door was located, “Hi daddy. I’m talking to Tommy about my birthday. Can I tell him the surprise now?”
My brows furrowed in confusion and I was suddenly feeling not too great about this conversation. I hated surprises, especially if they involved my father, “What’s going on?”
Once my dad made his way into my view, he leaned down to reach the height of Mila’s laptop, “Hey, Tommy. How’s New York?”
“What’s the surprise?” I asked him, refusing to answer his question until he dropped whatever bomb he had on me.
My dad shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Don’t be so worried, son. I have a meeting with a client there in a few weeks so we will be in town at the time. Of course we want to see you and your brother while we’re there.”
“I told dad that I want to stay with you,” Mila chimed in, “But he said no because you don’t provide a stable environment for me.”
What the fuck did he mean by that? I couldn’t keep the annoyed expression from forming on my face and I glared at the screen, “Well, if anyone knows what it’s like to have their child in an unstable environment it would me you, wouldn’t it, dad?”
“Tommy, no. She said that completely out of context,” My dad said as he attempted to put out the fire that he had started.
Mila only shook her head, “No, actually. That was the exact context you said it in.”
“Mila,” My dad said in a warning tone, “Let me talk to your brother alone for a minute, okay?”
I knew that Mila was stubborn and once again she proved it, “Dad, I called him, remember? If you want to talk to Tommy, you need to take the initiative and call him on your own time.”
Truth be told, I was no longer in the mood to chat, even with my little sister. My father was always a jackass just when things seemed to be going good between us. He always wondered why I didn’t connect with him, or try, this was a perfect example.
“Actually, Mils, I’m getting an incoming call from a business partner so I’ll catch up with you later,” I said to her, not letting her know the real reason why I was cutting the call short.
“Thomas,” I heard my dad say - he knew I wasn’t getting an incoming call, but fuck him.
I ended the call before anything else could be said. The fact that my father was talking shit about me to my little sister was enough to send me over the edge and now I’d have to put up with him in a few weeks while he’s in town.
Instantly I decided to get my mind off of the conversation and I thought of Violet. Mason was wrong, this isn’t an obsession, it’s just me making a friend. I haven’t done anything crazy or obsessive so he was completely out of line.
I feel myself becoming angry. Any time I thought of my dad there was a 50/50 chance that I would become irritated by his existence and today was one of those times. A lot of the time I hate knowing that I’m half of him, but I suppose I did get my business sense from him which is the only good thing about being his son.
Within an hour I find myself outside of a club ready to drink my frustrations away, it usually helped and after my lashing out at Mason I needed an escape from my guilt. Mason hadn’t answered any of my calls since I said what I said, I don’t blame him but being on the opposite end of this sucks.
The club is filled and I go directly towards the bar, ordering a beer and looking around. I needed to get shitfaced - which is exactly what I did.
9 beers and two hours later, I was feeling tipsy enough to forget why I even came here. I also find it easier to pick up girls when I have alcohol in my system, it helps with the guilt that I normally feel.
“I’m going to buy you a drink,” I said to a random stranger as I approach her from behind. I was never the type to take no for an answer and I knew it would be rare for a girl to deny my charm.
She looks over her shoulder at me with a grin on her face. Her boobs were hanging out of her dark green dress and my eyes fell to her chest. If I play my cards right I may just have company for the night.
“How can I say no to a face like that?” She questioned.
Bingo. You can’t, it’s that simple.
I take a seat next to her and calls out to the bartender for 2 glasses of straight whiskey, when I look at the girl I can’t help but smirk, “I’m Thomas. And what shall I call the beautiful lady?”
“Willa,” She smiled and I internally gag at the name. It isn’t a very sexy name and I can’t imagine saying her name in bed.
“Beautiful name,” I tell her and as the bartender sets the whiskey in front of us I slide a glass toward her, “Tell me about yourself, Willa.”
I’m not sure how I managed to get myself stuck in a 2 hour conversation with this boring woman but I can’t bail when I’ve already invested so much time in this. I felt confident that I’ve made myself appealing and Willa seems like the type to simply fuck and move on with her life.
I rest my hand on her leg and lean forward to whisper in her ear, “How about we go back to my place? If you’re into harmless fun, that is.”
Never do I let a girl thing that it would become something more. I don’t believe in leading a girl on if I have no intentions on having a relationship. It’s wrong and I have enough respect for women to know that.
“Actually, there’s something you should know...” Her voice trails off and before I can ask her what it is that I should know, my question is answered by some dude colliding his fist against my jaw, causing me to fall off the bar stool.
The guy is muscular, bigger than I am but I don’t intimidate easily. It’s his words that throw me off guard, “Why are you touching my girl, bro?”
I lift myself from the floor, stumbling a little from the alcohol I’ve consumed, “Listen, bro. Your girl has been flirting with me for hours now. Excuse me if there was zero indication that she’s unavailable.”
As he pulls his fist back to punch me again I dodge and reciprocate the action, getting him square in the jaw. I tend to black out when I get drunk, I forget the reason I’m doing something and I continue to punch over and over again.
I have the guy on the floor, punching him repeatedly. As much as I prefer to not sound like a child, he did start it.
The bouncer pulls me away from the bastard and demands that I leave or he’ll call the cops. I can’t help but chuckle, “Fuck this place anyway. Bitches can’t keep their legs closed when they’re in a fucking relationship.”
Eyes are on me and I slowly walk towards the exit, attempting to keep my balance as best I can. My vision is blurred and I feel sick, knowing that I’m past my alcohol consumption limit. As soon as I step outside the club, I fall onto the ground and groan on impact.
When did my life become so pointless?
As I take my cellphone from my pocket I hold the button down and demand that it call my brother, “Siri, call Mason...” I groan when Siri doesn’t understand my pathetic slurs and I try again, “Mason. Call Mason.”
“Okay, calling Pornhub.” My phone responds to me.
My eyes grow wide and I begin to hit my phone repeatedly, “What the fuck?! How does porn even have a number...”
I’m stunned as I struggle to end the call, the stupid button keeps moving away from my finger and it’s frustrating me but I finally manage to end the call to pornhub. When I do, I decide to call Mason the old fashioned way - by actually dialing his number.
The phone rings.
It rings again, and again. But my brother doesn’t answer, instead my call goes straight to his voicemail. I’m not the type to leave voicemails, I hate it, truthfully. It’s something I rarely do, but this time I decide to leave Mason a message regardless of my hate toward voicemails.
“Mase... Man, I’m sorry.” I speak into the phone, feeling more sober than I have in the past few hours, “Dude, I need you, okay? I need you to forgive me because I’m so fucked up. I’m not okay, Mason. I try to be okay, I really do but I can’t. It’s hard and if I lose you then what’s the point anymore?”
I feel a strong pain in my chest, feeling myself falling apart from the inside out and I’m too far gone to stop this emotional rollercoaster of feelings that I’ve started.
“You and Jenna are perfect together and I’m so happy for you, but... I’m jealous. I envy your happiness and every time you and Jenna move forward, I think about Jade and where we would be. This whole therapy thi--”
The voicemail beeps, indicating that I’ve reached my limit of time and all I can manage to do is close my eyes. There’s no point anymore, I’m ruining my relationship with my brother and I’m throwing myself into work, it’s really my only distraction anymore.
I lay back on the concrete and look up at the sky, all energy in me being drained when my back rests against the sidewalk. Misery seemed to be my best friend lately, it’s a terrible feeling and I want noting more than to feeling some kind of genuine happiness again, though it seemed like a long shot.
“Thomas?” A figure appears above me, looking down at my face and my vision is blurred, unable to pick apart features.
The one thing I can see is the red hair. The beautiful red hair and then suddenly it all makes sense, “Jade?”