Page 125 of Soul So Dark
I was thinking about what I was doing 3 years ago. My dad was still alive. He was the glue that held everyone together. Now it’s Adrian, who’s more like a strand of dental floss about to snap at any second. Not even the mint kind, either.
But you’re right, Adrian is like Darryl Curtis. He’s strong for everyone on the outside, but he’s killing himself on the inside. I was his last hope, but I still turned out to be a disappointment. To be clear, I don’t think I’m a disappointment, but I can see why he thinks so.
3 years doesn’t seem very long, but it’s a lifetime. It’s a chasm that you can’t cross and one I can’t drag you over, even if you’re the only one I want to take with me. Maybe if I were a better man, I’d tell you to move on and keep me in your memory or some dumb simp shit like that. But I’m not.
I’m fucking selfish as hell and I hope you think about me every minute of every day and the thought of me ruins anything you could ever have with anyone else. No one is ever going to be as good for you as me because I know you, I’ll always keep your secrets, and I love you like no one else knows how to.
I promise I’ll come back. And if you’ve moved on by then and you’re dating some douche in salmon shorts and boat shoes, I’ll wreck that shit and make you mine anyway. How’s that for a promise? Do you think Bob the soc was wearing something like that before he got knifed by a greaser like Johnny? Consider it a warning.
But I should know better. There’s no way a girl who can get through Sen’s Fortress in 10 minutes would ever go for someone like that.
I know you don’t think I’ll ever come back to Dire Ridge, but this box is insurance. A guarantee that I will. You told me some of your secrets, so now you get to know a few of mine. Guard them with your life, and when I get back, I’ll do the same for you.
I must look like a basket case, sitting in the middle of my bed, reading Alex’s letter while my face contorts back and forth between melancholy and fits of laughter. I’ve never felt so seen, and I’ve never felt more at home than I do with him.
One moment, I feel like I’m on the brink of something exciting, even if it’s just reading his scratchy handwriting on a piece of creased up notebook paper. But the next moment, I’m Ponyboy Curtis, sitting in his room, with the sun shining and the birds chirping outside, staring at the words of my best friend, gone too soon.
But Alex isn’t dead, and his letter doesn’t talk about staying gold and appreciating the beauty in each day. His letter wishes me heartache and despair in his absence, as if he’s not the one on his way to God-knows-where for God-knows-how-long.
What an asshole.
I fold the letter back up and reach for the box, untucking the flaps one by one.
He might be an asshole but, still, I know the truth.
You’re going to get your wish, Alex fucking Barrera…
PART II
SIX YEARS LATER
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dallas
I’m sure this house was haunted at some point.
When I look past the frozen insect silhouettes beneath the caked-on layers of eggshell paint and the cheap folding table that’s become a permanent fixture on the front porch, I can vaguely see some ostentatious Victorian family with a millionaire tycoon husband and a socialite wife in her bustled dresses and feathered hats. But I’m sure any ghosts that are still here have fled to the attic by now. I would too if I spent the better part of a century in peace until some rental company purchased my home and turned it into student housing for a bunch of degenerates.
This is why I’m all the more entertained by the fact that Austin opts to spend so much time here instead of his dorm specifically built for the men’s basketball team. I’ve seen the inside of it before, even slept there a couple of times. You’d think the Cavs lived there instead of college basketball players.
Or maybe I’m just still salty because my brother got to live in our cousin’s riverside mansion while he was in college, but then his job transferred him out of the country right after Colson graduated. Even though this house should be condemned, it’s nothing some stellar decorating and strategic furniture placement can’t fix. Besides, it’s how Shelby, Carter, Maddie, and I managed to live together this long and stay on campus.
“You only come here after you and your latest flavor of the month break up,” Shelby teases as she settles into the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and a very full glass of white wine. “I’m shocked you even come down here to hang with us plebs.”
Oh, yeah, and the girls that go in and out of the basketball dorm look like NBA wives in training.
“At least he comes here at all!” I call from the kitchen as I peck at the microwave buttons and start my own bag of popcorn.
“Only because the season’s over,” Shelby mutters.
While it’s popping, I wander back into the living room, pulling my purple plush robe tighter around me. Did I mention this house is also drafty? The window units can barely keep up in the summer and it’s a fucking icebox in the winter.
“Now that I’ve been sufficiently chewed out, are you watching the movie with us?” Austin asks before downing half a bottle of Gatorade in three gulps.
“No, I’m going to play games for a while.”
“Play what?”
