The Lies We Tell Strangers
"Professor, I'm sorry, but um--my grandfather's in the hospital. And I--"
The old man looked at me, nothing but empathy in his steely eyes. Thankfully, he wasn't one of those teachers who made everyone know what was going on. He didn't make his answer loud or very obvious that something bad happened. He just calmly said, "Go, I'll drop your missed paperwork at the Administration Office so when you come back you can get it. I hope everything works out fine."
I nodded, before hurrying out of the stuffy class. The other college students were too busy working on their physics assignment to pay much attention to me.
"Wyatt!" I heard a familiar voice call, but I didn't stop.
Unfortunately, he didn't either.
"Hey, hey? Where's the fire?" Anth asked, pulling me by my shoulder to face him.
"I really, really don't have time for this now," I pleaded desperately, holding a hand out in front of me as a means to stop his questions.
"What happened?" He asked softly, his eyes filled with concern.
It was weird, cause I just met the guy and it seemed like he actually was worried about me.
"Family emergency, that's all," I mumbled, tossing the idea aside.
I shifted my body weight, moving from foot to foot under his gaze.
"How are you going to get there?" He asked softly.
"Bus, walking? I don't know, there will probably be a taxi cab. It doesn't matter, you're making me late," I huffed, stalking past him. I was on a mission, a mission to get out of this place as soon as possible.
Unfortunately for me, he soon matched my strides.
"I'll drive you," he ordered, not giving me an option.
"You rode the bus today," I pointed out gruffly, slightly confused at his offer.
I took a risky glance and saw the blush on his cheeks he was trying to hide.
"Um, yeah, I did. But I saw you there, and I thought, I wonder what he's thinking about, so I ended up talking--"
"Stalking," I coughed.
He gave me a funny look, like a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look, and rolled his eyes.
"I wanted to talk to you. You were all alone and it seemed like, I don't know. There was something about you. Anyway, I hid my key by my car, and texted a friend to take it over," he muttered the last bit.
"All so you could ride the bus and harass a stranger?" I asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.
He turned redder, "I didn't really think of it like that...come on, this way."
I felt Anth's hand gently grab my arm, and pull me towards the left and into a parking lot I didn't know existed.
"It's right," he paused, brown eyes scanning the lot. Beaming, he pointed somewhere into the distance, "there! Come on!"
He started jogging and yanking me along with him. I didn't realize he was still holding onto my arm.
Anth stood proudly in front of an old Jeep. The side mirrors were stuck on with duck tape, and the paint was peeling off.
"This is your car?" I asked incredulously.
"Yeah, isn't she a beaut?" He asked, grinning.
"I guess," I muttered, thinking if you were that weird kid who would collect other people's trash growing up.
"So, we're we headed?" He asked, turning the key and starting the car.
"Minnesota's General Hospital," I muttered, avoiding his gaze.
Anth's mouth dropped open.
"Minnesota?"
"Yep."
"Like Minnesota, Minnesota?"
"Yep. Look, if you don't want to, I can still catch a bus. It's fine," I sighed tiredly.
"No, it's cool. Just didn't realize we'd be in a three hour car trip. Luckily for you, if you'd taken the bus it'd probably take five. And since I'm driving, I'll probably be able to cut that time in half!" He said cockily, as he drove away from the campus.
"Are you sure this car will last three hours?" I teased.
"Shut up! Bethany travels just fine, thank you very much!" Anth said defensively.
"Bethany? You named your car Bethany?"
Again, his cheeks were tinted a slight pink, "Yeah. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, I just thought you were more of a Bessy kind of guy," I joked.
He laughed, and I ended up smiling. It was a foreign feeling, one I didn't have too often.
"My dad calls my brother's car Bessy. Now that is a rough looking vehicle! Half the time it only has three wheels," he laughed.
There was a relaxed silence in the car, and I didn't like it. I didn't like quiet, it made me restless. Made me frantic. Made me feel like at any moment the world would topple off its axis and we'd all die.
"Does your radio work?" I restlessly sighed.
"Um," Anth trailed off as he exited the highway and turned down another road.
"Whose radio doesn't work?" I gushed, exasperated.
"It's not that it doesn't work, it's just that it doesn't work well," he pointed out matter-of-factually.
I let out a small sigh, before I rooted through my bag for my phone. I saw Anth's eyes flicker to what I was doing.
"Don't like silence, eh?"
"Not my cup of tea," I mumbled, still rooting through my bag. When I couldn't find it, I kicked it angrily. "Where'd the b*stard go?"
"Just check again," Anth said reassuringly.
"I did," I muttered, my heart hammering in my chest. I unzipped it and riffled through all the pockets.
My phone was no where in sight, just like the bomb. Just like my bomb.
I was there, crouching low in the dirt, dust coating every inch of my body. It was thick and everywhere, every time you breathed it was like you were swallowing a cloud. It was dark, and we were all waiting there. Backs against boulders, and in the distance you could hear the faint popping of shells like fingers typing on a key board.
That's when the screaming started. The air filled with smoke, and ear shrilling whistles filled the air that ended in a resounding boom. It was like a thousand fireworks splaying color on the sky. Except, instead of vibrant colors, it was blood.
Blood of Mothers, Fathers, Sisters and Brothers. Aunts and Uncles, Cousins, Grandparents. The air was thick with the metallic taste and smell. I heard shouts in a language I couldn't understand, and I heard the men and woman on either side of me quietly riffling through their packs.
"Walker, we need to get out here. Our cover's been blown, we need a distraction," Richard hissed quietly.
I nodded somberly, and reached in the pocket of my bag only to find it empty.
"Walker," he hissed again impatiently.
"I know, I'm looking," I whispered, panic seeping in.
"Walker," he tsked, sounding more urgent.
"I'm looking!"
"Look faster!"
I tore the bag apart and it wasn't there. In its place was a gaping whole from a bush or something. It must have fallen when we were running.
"It's not there," I whispered, my face pale.
"What do you mean it's not there? F*ck Walker!" He swore. "Okay, okay. We'll just have to shoot them before they shoot us."
"But our position will be even more compromised--" A woman spoke.
"We don't have a choice," Richard said morbidly. He had his gun in front of him, and we all got ours out.
"Do you hear that?" I whispered, hauntingly.
It was a faint beeping, like the ticking of a clock's hand.
Richard paled, and he looked behind us. That was when the first shot was fired. It went straight through his head and out the other side, and I felt his warm blood splatter onto my face. I couldn't see, but it didn't matter.
A few seconds later, my bomb exploded. It did fall to the ground, just a few feet behind us.
And then we were all airborne, falling like shooting stars.
I can still hear her screams.
Why didn't she stop screaming?
"Wyatt?" Anth's voice was timid, scared. It sounded like he was a million years away from me.
I felt the tears prickling in the corner of my eye, and I wiped them away.
"What're you looking out?" I barked out viciously.
"Wyatt, you were screaming, so I pulled over--"
"I'm hungry. Is there a place we can eat?" I demanded, looking out the window.
"Wyatt," Anth whispered gently.
"Well, is there?" I demanded, looking at him menacingly.
"Yeah," he said looking defeated. But I couldn't help but notice the strain on his jaw, as if he were biting his tongue. "Yeah, there's a Diner."
"Okay," I said as though I was the deciding factor.
The rest of the drive was met in silence.
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I sat in the booth, Anth across from me. My leg was bouncing up and down, up and down, up and down like the waves lapping against a shore. I could feel his calculating gaze on me, analyzing my every movement.
"What?" I demanded.
"Nothing," he murmured, looking down as if he were a schoolboy getting yelled at by a teacher.
My gaze flickered towards his, and I stared at him intently.
"It's not my fault," I spat out, my leg bouncing up and down up and down.
He looked at me confused. I turned my gaze onto something else, and read the menu even though I already ordered.
"Stop looking at me like that," I muttered, defensively, feeling hot and sweaty. Hot and sweaty like the deserts we had to walk through.
"Like what?" Anth asked, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.
"Like I'm some kind of specimen in a lab!" I shouted, louder than I should've. I felt more people's eyes trained on me. I needed to leave, needed to get out of there.
I stood up abruptly and walked out of the diner. I heard Anth calling my name, but I didn't slow. I needed to get out of that room.
Too many eyes.
Too many people watching me.
Too many people.
"What the hell Wyatt?" He demanded, stalking after me, this time he was scowling.
"I needed some air," I said defensively.
"That's not a good enough excuse to walk out there without paying the bill! You're lucky the waitress knows me personally--"
"How do you know her?" I demanded icily.
He looked taken aback by the question.
"Never mind, doesn't matter," I muttered, looking down at my feet as the wind blew through my hair.
"I used to live near here. Didn't you wonder why I didn't need a GPS to get to Minnesota?" Anth asked curiously.
"I was too busy dealing with my missing phone," I spat.
He continued to stare at me in confusion.
"What?"
"You really don't remember me?" He whispered, eyes flickering with disappointment.
"Should I?"
"No, never mind," Anth muttered quietly.
Now it was my turn to stare at him like he had three heads.
"Do you remember me?" I asked quietly, the edge gone from my voice.
He didn't answer.
"Anth," I drawled out testily.
"We had the same job growing up. Doesn't really matter, we had different shifts. Makes little sense for you to remember me," he mumbled the last part, avoiding my eyes.
I still stared at him like he had grown three heads.
"I think you're thinking of the wrong person. I didn't have a job growing up," I muttered in confusion, trying to remember. A few years of my life were a little fuzzy, especially my late teens.
"You don't remember Becca?" Anth whispered hesitantly, staring at me worriedly.
I started to squirm and fidget. This was too much pressure.
"Um, of course," I lied easily.
I didn't want to disappoint him even more, for some reason unbeknownst to me.
"What does Becca look like?" He challenged, raising an accusing eyebrow.
"Of course I know what Rebecca looks like!" I said, giving him a look. I prayed her real name was actually Rebecca.
He looked content with that.
"So you do remember her?"
"Yeah, of course."
He looked at me, "Okay, then you should have no problem describing her to me."
I looked away from his gaze, and tried desperately to remember.
"I knew it, you don't remember."
I couldn't respond to that, but I turned to face him. His brown eyes studying mine, searching my face for answers.
"What happened to you?" He whispered quietly, his eyes filled with something that made me uneasy.
What happened to you.
What happened to me?
What had happened to me?
Who am I?
Question after question after question. It was an endless cycle of questions I couldn't answer. Thankfully, a young girl walked out happily.
"Wyatt! Oh my god it has been so long! Hey, Anthony," she said, sending him a wink. Anth blushed slightly, but I didn't know why.
The girl--should I say young woman--was tall. She had hips that couldn't lie, and her hair was long and a rich brown color. It was naturally wavy like a river. Instantly, she pulled me into a hug, and I didn't know what to do.
I looked at her in confusion, and pushed her away.
"Who are you?" I demanded, worriedly. "How do you know my name? They sent you didn't they? But how do they know I'm here, I-I"
I couldn't finish my sentence, and I felt Anth's hands on my shoulders, stopping my pacing.
"Wyatt," he said quietly, taking me away from my mind.
"What?" I snapped.
"This is Becca," he said, nodding to the girl who was also looking at me worriedly. She looked like she almost was trying not to cry.
I looked from the both of them in confusion, and I felt so frustrated. I raked a hand through my hair over and over again.
"I-I-I" I stuttered, not knowing what to say.
"It's cool. I get it, I heard what happened. I just--I didn't think it was this bad," she said, breathing in sharply. For some reason it felt like I was being stabbed by a knife.
"What, what do you mean?"
"I was in Venezuela visiting family when it happened. When you came back that is, and I went to see you as soon as I could, but you already had left. Went back overseas. I-I just thought you were okay. But--it's cool. Thanks for your service," she said, smiling sadly at me. Her brown eyes were filled with a warmth I couldn't give her.
And I never felt more disappointed with myself.
"I-I'm sorry," I muttered embarrassed.
"It's okay, not your fault. But hey, I'm Becca. Nice to meet you," she said, extending a hand.
I warily shook it, "Wyatt."
"Why don't you come back inside? Your food is almost ready," she offered, ushering us back into the building.
I slid back into the booth, so many questions I couldn't answer. Head in my hands, I starred at the red counter tops. What was I doing?
"Hey, it's okay," Anth said, smiling reassuringly. I lifted my head, and my hands were resting on the table.
"I know. I'm fine," I growled, the edge back in my voice.
Anth reached out and place his hand over top of mine, patting it gently. I didn't flinch or recoil like I normally would've.
"Everything is going to be fine," he whispered, voice sounding different.
I didn't like the way he was staring at me, the way he was speaking, the way he was touching me. It made me feel like there was something wrong with me, made me sink back into the void where I knew something was missing.
"I-I can't be the person you claim you knew," I said softly, feeling pressure build up inside me.
"I know, but I'm not the same person I was four years ago either. None of us are," a small smile playing with his lips.
I found his brown grey eyes to be magnets, drawing mine towards his. The weird feeling surrounding us was gone the second the sound of plates smacking the table and the smell of pancakes making our stomachs' growl.
His hand quickly left mine, and I ignored the cold feeling of his hand no longer on mine. My eyes lingered on his stack of blueberry pancakes shaped like a UFO ship. When he noticed my questioning look, he looked down embarrassed.
"Becca most of told the Chef," he muttered at the same time I said, "My mom made my pancakes like that."
His gaze snapped up to meet mine, and a giant grin spread across his face.
"Yeah, that's why Becca told the Chef. Whenever we'd come here you'd only--"
"I never ate here. If I did I would've ordered the same thing as you," I said, angrily crossing my arms over my chest.
He looked at me raising an eyebrow as if saying I don't believe you.
"Anyway, whenever we'd come here, you'd only have blueberry pancakes if they were the way your mom made them. You said it was like the blueberries were the lights causing buildings, animals, and people to be sucked up so aliens could probe their brains or something," he said, still smiling.
I just scowled.
Surely, teenage me would've been too embarrassed to eat UFO blueberry pancakes in front of my friends. Not that I ever knew Wyatt and Becca. Surely I would've remembered them, right?
"If I didn't know you, how would I know that?" Anth asked, somehow sensing my skepticism.
"You're a stalker who obviously did their research," I huffed annoyed. I noticed he was right, and I was being ridiculous. Not that I would ever tell him that.
He looked at me, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Do you want to trade?" He asked.
"What? No! I ordered these pancakes, I'm not going to trade. I'm not a brat who's going to complain for not getting what they wanted!" I spat out quickly.
Anth wordlessly exchanged the plate.
"You--It doesn't--I'm fine--" I couldn't form a sentence.
"Eat it, I know you want to. Maybe it'll spark a memory," Anth shrugged, trying not to sound too hopeful but he was.
I took a bite, scowling. But I couldn't help close my eyes, and smile slightly. Memories of me dressing up as an Astronaut when I was seven surfaced. A satisfied sound came out of my mouth, feeling the warm substance travel throughout my body.
I felt my body tingle as the familiar taste of tart blueberry and sweet maple syrup made my mouth water for more.
"These are so good," I muttered to myself, before looking up and seeing Anth's face.
He was laughing hysterically, and I turned red in embarrassment.
When he finally calmed down, he said, "You had that same expression when you first tried them."
"Oh," I said sourly, feeling an emptiness spread.
Anth's eyes were twinkling, and he looked happy? But it didn't make sense, all I did was eat a pancake. I didn't find the cure for cancer.
We finished eating, and we split the bill much to Anth's objections.
"I should've payed for that," he muttered, while walking back towards his car.
"What? It wasn't like it was a first date or something," I laughed, teasingly.
Anth coughed awkwardly, and turned his head to the side.
"You okay?" I asked worriedly.
"Fine," he muttered, before looking back at me. His smile was forced, and it looked more like a wince.
"Okay."
"Okay."
We reached the car, and an awkward silence fell over us.
"We have about twenty minutes till we get there," Anth broke the silence.
"Good, the sooner the better," I muttered, looking out the window.
"Who's in the hospital?" His voice was gently, coaxing.
"My grandfather."
"Shit! I'm so sorry Wyatt. I know you guys are close--"
"How?" I demanded, suddenly angry.
"You introduced him to me once," he whispered quietly, almost like he was afraid. Looking out into the road, it was like he was seeing something in the distance I couldn't, and it made me resent him for it.
"No I didn't!"
"You did, you just don't remember."
"I would've!" My voice cracked, and Anth's eyes were on me again. They were soft, and I knew mine were probably hard.
"No. You've forgotten, that's all there is to it. Doesn't always have to be an argument, you know," he gently spoke.
I was at a loss for words, so I settled with staring out the window.
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"I'm here to see Alfred Walker," I said impatiently to the lady at the front desk.
"Friend or family?" She asked absentmindedly.
"Family."
"And the other one?" She raised an eyebrow, popping a pink bubble. Her hair was in blonde curls, and she had red lipstick.
I looked at Anth expectantly, and he stared at me biting his lower lip.
"Um......or?" I said unsure.
She snorted before laughing, "I'll let this one slide. You two are too cute!"
I looked at Anth puzzled.
"Room Two Oh Six," She said, nodding down the left hall.
"Thanks!" I called, before rushing down the hallway.
Finally I found the right door, and I pushed it open quickly. My eyes searching frantically, and my mother, father, and grandma stood up quickly in shock.
"Wyatt, it's just you," Mom said in relief, coming up to hug me. She kissed my cheek, and I noticed that her eyes were shiny.
"Is he--" I trailed off.
"He's okay. But the doctor suggests that he comes up with a plan with Grandma," she said softly, rubbing my shoulder gently.
"What does that mean?" I demanded, not wanting it to be true.
Mom looked at Grandma, trying to come up with the best way to sugarcoat it.
"It means we need to value the remaining time we have with him," Dad said, his voice hoarse.
And just like that, it felt like my world was ending.
"Anthony! What are you doing here?" Mom gasped in surprise.
"You know Anth?" I asked bewildered.
They all looked at each other and than back at me. I felt hot and itchy, like my skin was one massive mosquito bite.
"Honey, do you still not remember?" Mom asked gently.
"You know him?"
"Honey--"
My heart picked up and I felt myself pacing. My hands were rubbing my face, running through my hair. Thinking only they knew him. It was like that sentence, they knew him, was on a loop in my head playing over and over and over again.
"Wyatt, listen to me. Listen to me, you're okay. It's all okay," she whispered, gently pulling my hands from my hair and face.
I just stared at her like I didn't now her. Somehow I was looking at my Dad, expecting him to have the answers to all my problems.
"Damn it Wyatt, you said you were okay! Why did you say you were okay?" He whispered, his voice cracking.
"I am okay!" I shouted, my voice venomous.
My grandmother got up, her white hair was cropped short and curly and it bounced when she moved. Her face was the same as my dad's. However, he had grandpa's cocoa brown hair and striking blue eyes. My mother, like my Nana, had green eyes.
"Lets go for a little walk," she said, smiling sadly at me.
I nodded my head slightly, and I noticed Anth was standing there like a sore thumb.
"I'll wait by the car," he mumbled, before hurrying out of there. I didn't blame him. I'd want to run as far away from here as possible.
In the hallway, I had to walk slower so my Grandma could keep up.
"You know, the last time we were all here it was for you," she whispered, a slight tremor in her throat.
"Yep."
"We were all so scared."
"Yep."
"I'm sorry we didn't pay close enough attention to you. We should've known you weren't okay."
"I am okay," I said curtly.
She just sighed.
"Most people don't forget four years of their life," she pointed out sadly.
"I didn't forget four years! I remember everything from the war," I muttered, and the look she gave me was complete sympathy.
"I think that might be worse."
"It's not all bad," I shrugged, feeling guilty for making her sad.
She didn't say anything.
"How'd you meet Anth?"
"I was waiting for the bus, and he sat there next to me. Wouldn't stop talking!"
She chuckled, as if she were remembering something.
"What? He wouldn't! And then he followed me onto the bus, and then to the campus. Then when I got the call from Mom and Dad, he ended up being in the hallway. Offered to take me down cause I don't have a car--"
"How'd he get a car if he rode the bus with you?" She asked, a knowing smile on her face.
"I don't know! But I asked him the same thing. Said some friend drove it back? I don't know, but he stares at me and it's just weird. He's weird, this whole situation is weird! My brain's weird!" I said exasperated, my anger getting the best of me.
"I'd be scared if things weren't weird," she smiled, taking my hand. Her hand was so much smaller, so much frailer than mine and it scared me.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you," I whispered.
"It's okay. I know you're dealing with a lot," she said. "But that still doesn't explain why you haven't visited me, young man!"
I laughed, "I will soon, I promise. I'll be down for Thanksgiving!"
"Thanksgiving is too far away!" She complained.
"Two weeks from now, I'll come down," I said, shaking my head.
Soon we ended up back in the hospital room.
"Wyatt, Dad and I have been thinking--" Mom started, a crease in her forehead from worry.
"We want you to see Dr. Foreman again," Dad finished, his gaze hard.
My jaw clenched, "I'm fine. I don't need to see her."
"Honey, what your father and I mean is that we think it'd be best--"
"I'm not seeing her!" I raised my voice, in a way of ending the conversation.
Mom let out a long, tired sigh, but she didn't argue.
"It would mean a lot to me if you would. But you're a grown man, and you can make your own decisions," she sounded like a wounded animal.
"Mom, I--"
"It's fine," she cut me off, leaning against my father, who placed a protective arm around her.
"It doesn't have to be Dr. Foreman," Dad said gently. "And it doesn't have to be permanent."
"I don't want to," I grumbled stubbornly.
My Grandpa woke up, and my Grandma hugged him right away. I noticed a few things had changed since I last saw him. He now had a more prominent beer belly, he was loosing his hair, and he was a sickly yellow. But one thing that hadn't changed, was his personality.
"What're you doin' just standin' there! Come hug an ol' geezer why don't ya?" He laughed, but that lead to a coughing fit.
"Hey Gramps," I smiled, my voice gentle.
We fist bumped before hugging. It was how we always did things.
"How's my favorite super hero?" He asked teasingly, which ended in me rolling my eyes.
"I'm not a hero," I muttered, my mood darkening.
"You got a Purple Heart Merit Badge! I think that makes you a hero to some degree," he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"I'm not a hero!" I said louder, causing him to flinch.
My breaths were short and ragged, my fists clenched.
"Honey," Mom drawled out, walking towards me tentatively.
I flinched when she went to touch me. Her green eyes looked hurt for a second, and her shoulders sagged in defeat.
"I-I-I--" I stuttered, ashamed at myself. Why did I have to f*ck everything up?
"It's okay, I overstepped," Grandpa said in that gravelly voice of his.
"It wasn't my fault," I whispered to myself, imagining the starry sky and all of us, flying like birds.
"Of course it wasn't," Mom said reassuringly, squeezing my shoulder. She pretended to not notice my flinching. It was funny how she thought she knew what I was talking about. "Why don't you invite Anth for dinner? How does that sound?"
"We should probably get back," I muttered.
"I think you two should stay, it's already dark--"
"I have school tomorrow. And Grandpa is okay. I'll see you guys this weekend," I said numbly, not waiting to see their reactions.
"Wyatt--"
"I'm going to see you Saturday!" Again, the steel back in my voice.
"Wyatt, you don't get to talk to your mother that way! I know it's been hard on you, with the war and all, but you can't use it as an excuse to act like this! You're acting like a child! Adults don't throw temper-tantrums when they don't like what someone says! Adults don't get angry over little comments! They don't shut people out! And they most certainly don't wine until they get there way--"
"Bryan!" Mom scolded.
"He needs to hear this Jolie! We've babied him for far too long!"
"I don't care! I'm absolutely fine!" I roared, glaring at him.
"No you're not! And I'm most definitely making sure you see someone, because you can't live the rest of your life like this!"
"I hate you!" I spat, not knowing why I was so angry. I chucked a box of tissues across the room. "I'm an adult! You can't make me do anything!"
"Oh, just watch me! You will be seeing someone, and that's the end of it, Wyatt Martin Walker!" His vein popped out.
"I can do whatever the hell I want!"
"No you can't, because this isn't living," he said tiredly.
"I hate you," I said coldly.
"You don't really mean that," Dad said sternly, but I could feel the plea in his voice. The questions of does he?
"I do," I lied, and I heard my mom gasp.
"Wyatt," Grandpa's voice was disappointed.
I just slammed the door.
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"You okay? How's Alfred doing?" Anth asked right when I got in the car.
"Drive," I demanded, clenching my jaw.
"Is everything ok--"
"Drive the f*cking car, okay?" I screeched.
A silence settled over us, and I looked out the window. Anth was staring at me, I could feel it.
A few minutes later he whispered, "Okay."
Five minutes passed, and I reached for his radio. The music came through fuzzy, static. Immediately, I shut it off.
"You should really get that radio fixed!"
"I like it like that."
"Really? You like listening to someone cough up a hairball?"
"It's different, unique. It also teaches you to appreciate technology more."
I was restless itchy to do something, to move.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Anth asked finally, taking a second to look from the road to me.
"Nothing happened," I muttered, leg bouncing.
"I find that hard to believe."
"Nothing happened, damn it! Why are you so f*cking nosy all of a sudden?"
"Sometimes it's helpful if you talk about it," Anth pointed out.
"What are you now? An effing shrink?" I demanded, jaw still clenched as if I was biting down on invisible gum.
"I just want to help you Wyatt," Anth sighed tiredly.
"Everyone just wants to help Wyatt these days! But do they ever consider to think what the hell he wants? No! They just do without any consideration for how he feels--"
"Wyatt," Anth's voice was soft.
"What?!" I snapped.
"We want to help because we care about you," his eyes softened.
I just laughed.
"No, you all want to help to please yourself. To make you feel better about yourself. That you could somehow help the plagued guy! No one wants to help me, they want to help themselves. And I don't need help, I don't need saving. I'm one of the lucky ones. I got to leave and I'm alive. Some of them won't ever be able to say that, won't ever be able to hug their mothers, brothers, wives, daughters ever again. And yet, here I am. I should be thankful, right? But half the time I wonder--" I trailed off.
"Wonder what?" His voice came out like a whisper.
"Is there a hotel nearby?" I demanded, not able to tear my eyes away from the darkening sky.
"Probably, but we've got another two hours to go. It won't take--"
"Lets go to the hotel. I'll buy a room," I offered.
"But we're half way there. I can still drive, it's not that late--"
"I said we're staying at a hotel! Did I stutter?" I demanded, my voice shrill.
"Okay. Okay, are you sure?"
"YES!"
"Okay. Okay. We'll go to the hotel," Anth muttered, annoyed.
I twiddled with my fingers, shifted in the plushy seat. I couldn't peel my eyes away from the darkness seeping in, and claiming the sky.
"We're here. Are you sure? It's only---"
"I'm sure," I said confidently, already out of the car and running towards the hotel like my life depended on it.
Anth was out of breath by the time he got in there.
"I asked you to wait!" He panted.
"I was checking in. They only have one open room, but they have an extra mattress," I said, messing with the room key.
"Okay," he muttered, hesitantly. Anth seemed nervous, his eyes kept flickering towards me. I gave him a confused look, and he pretended he was admiring the Dell computer.
"Okay, room 407 is vacant and ready for you two. Have a lovely stay at the West Side Hotel," the man operating the computer said in a monotone voice empty of emotion.
In the elevator, I felt Anth's unwavering gaze.
"What?" I barked anxiously, running a hand through my caramel colored hair.
"Just--nothing," he muttered, avoiding my stare and finding his shoes to be more interesting than me.
We arrived on the floor, and we were in the room in three seconds.
"I'll take the floor mattress," Anth offered.
"No, I will."
"But you paid--"
"Yeah, and you drove me here. I'm taking the floor. You'll be driving tomorrow, you take the bed."
"But--"
"Take the bed!"
"But--"
"Unless you want to literally sleep on the floor," I continued.
"You should take the bed. You've been through a lot today--"
"You take the bed, end of discussion. I paid for it, so what I say goes, got it?" I asked, daring him to challenge me.
"I--"
"Take the f*cking bed Anthony!"
He blinked at me twice.
"What?" I said nervously.
"You've never called me Anthony before except for--never mind," he mumbled.
"Oh," I was dumbfounded. Was I not supposed to call him that? Was he sensitive about being called Anthony? I could have sworn my parents called him that and he was okay. Although he looked awkward at the hospital.
His back was to me, and I saw his head was pointed up. I heard him take deep breaths.
"You okay?" I whispered, cautiously, touching his shoulder.
He turned around, eyes shiny, "Yep."
His voice was hollow, kind of like it was half there, and half in a distant memory.
"I'm going to get ready for bed," he whispered, a forced smile on his face as he walked towards the bathroom.
I could've sworn I saw his shoulders shaking on the way there, but it probably was just my imagination.
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