Two Week Writing Challenge - Day 6
6. Friendship: Write about being friends with someone.
Just Two Friends
James stared around the living room of the condo he shared with Anthony.
Yesterday, James had spent three hours putting things away. He had organized the shelves with Anthony’s large array of books and souvenirs from his study abroad in Africa and then swept and mopped the hardwood. Finally, he had polished every surface until it gleamed.
Now, the room was much different than he had left it. The floor was littered with red solo cups and sticky with puddles of cheap beer. The couch pillows were scattered across the room, most half wet with alcohol and cola. Snack bags of chips and cookies as well as pizza boxes were stacked on the coffee table James had purchased for them a few years back. Empty hard liquor bottles glittered and gleamed along the bookshelf. Clothes - mostly women’s - from tops to frilly bras hung from the lamp shade and laid discarded on the hardwood.
Shattered near his feet was the framed portrait of James’ brother Allen.
The flat screen TV was on a sports channel with the volume on so high that the announcer’s voice reverberated off the walls. James searched for the remote and found it next to a half empty box of condoms.
He shut off the TV and turned to the couch, forcing himself to look at what he knew - out of everything - would force him to pack his bags.
Anthony was sprawled on the couch with two women, one blonde and one brunette. All three were asleep. Both strangers clung onto Anthony’s bare chest like a lifeline while Anthony’s hands were buried under his face, where he always put them when he was in deep sleep. James tried his best to ignore all the bared skin, but he couldn't ignore the smell of sex.
Feeling oddly detached, James headed to his room - the smaller of the two bedrooms - and pulled out the suitcase and folded up moving boxes from the back of his closet. He began to pack his clothes and other belongings, dismissing the larger pieces of furniture.
By noon, he had everything he would need for the time packed away. Wiping his hot face of any residue tears, which he told himself was just sweat from packing in the warm condo, James took the handle of the suitcase and rolled it into the living room. He then quickly headed back to his room to grab the boxes, moving faster and faster, suddenly feeling desperate to get out and go someplace far away.
Once he had everything by the front door, he reached into his back pocket where he kept his wallet and keys. He grabbed his keys in his sweaty palm and reached for the door. But they slipped through his fingers and hit the floor with a thunk. As James bent to pick them back up he heard an awakening grunt from behind him. He wished he could tell himself that the sound belonged to one of the women, but James knew the sound of Anthony’s voice too well.
“Hey, man,” Anthony croaked from behind him, his voice still rough from sleep. “How was the visit with your mom?”
James swallowed hard and tried to still his trembling fingers. “It was fine,” James managed. He kept his back to Anthony.
Anthony groaned, the sound ending on a yawn before James heard shifting leather and knew that Anthony had untangled himself from the women and stood up from the couch. “What do you mean it was fine? A visit with you mother is never just fine. You two are either best friends or mortal enemies depending on the day.”
James could picture the fond smile on Anthony's face.
“Did she like the picture Freddy drew for her?” Anthony asked.
Freddy was Anthony’s four year old nephew. James would miss him.
“Yes Anthony, she loved-” James’ voice broke and he reached blinding for the door again.
“Woah, man, where are you going?” James heard steps and knew Anthony was approaching. “James, are you okay?”
James could feel the ghost of Anthony's hand reaching out to touch him, maybe on his shoulder, in a comforting gesture. Something a friend would do for another friend when the two were just friends.
James turned around quickly so he was facing Anthony and moved away until his back hit the door. He didn't want Anthony to touch him.
“What’s wrong, what happened?”
James couldn't look at Anthony’s face. Instead he tried to focus his gaze over his friend’s broad shoulders. Though it wasn't much better to see the dirty living room and the two sets of eyes that stared at him from the couch. The women were awake.
James continued to stare back at them until Anthony shifted to see what he was looking at.
“Oh man, I get it now. Damn, I'm so sorry James. I know I said no more partying at home. And honestly, we weren't even supposed to end up here, but we were at the bar and the girls didn't want to bother their roommate at their place, and I knew you wouldn't be here so I thought it would work out okay. Look, I promise I'll clean up, everything will look brand new!” Anthony sounded so sincere, even excited to have found a solution to the problem.
“Anthony,” James said, surprised to find his voice steady, “please tell your friends to leave.”
The room went silent. After a moment, Anthony cleared his voice and then said, “Maybe you girls should go.”
There was some shuffling around and the collecting of clothes before the girls disappeared out the door with a cheery, “Call us!” to a blank faced Anthony.
Once the door was firmly shut behind them, the room was once again quiet. James didn’t know what he could say to soothe the sharp pain that seemed to only intensify as time passed. He didn’t think there was anything that he could possibly say to make things okay.
“Look,” Anthony said suddenly, sounding oddly desperate, “I know that when we last talked about this you said that it could work out as long as I didn’t bring any of the girls back here, but last night I wasn’t in my right mind and you weren’t going to be here-”
“The portrait of Allen is broken,” James said, forcing himself to look Anthony in the eye. James watched the apology flash across Anthony’s face.
Allen was James’ brother. He died in a motorcycle accident when James was in 8th grade. It was the year that Anthony and James had become best friends. Anthony knew how much the portrait meant to him.
For a split-second, James wanted to say something awful to Anthony, something that would make him feel even a minuscule amount of the hurt that James felt. But that thought dissolved as quickly as it came, taking all of James’ anger with it. He didn’t want Anthony to hurt. He knew that Anthony cared for him. But it wasn't Anthony's fault that the way he cared for James was different from the way James cared for him.
“I’m going to go stay at my mom's place for awhile. I’ll mail you the check for next month’s rent so you don’t have to worry about it.” This time James managed to turn around, get the door open and walk out with his suitcase in hand. He would need to make another trip to get all his boxes. But maybe he'd just come back for them when he knew Anthony would be at work.
The last thing he heard before the door shut behind him was the smash of plaster as Anthony's fist hit the wall.
