Page 5 of My Fight

“Oh, I know, but it is the only time I get you to myself.” Jeff smiled.

Every night I would laugh and smack him in the chest.

“Oof.” Jeff would fake hurt and place a hand on his chest.

I could see my car parked under the streetlight in the dingy parking lot. My 2010 blue Toyota Camry. I bought this car as soon as I got my acceptance letter to college. It was the first big purchase I ever made. It may not have been much, but it was mine. That car brought me here packed full of all my stuff. It was good on gas. It was reliable and got me where I needed to be for the last five years. This car was my everything. It held all my thoughts.

God knows I spent so much time thinking.

“All right, it’s getting cold. Get in that shit show you call a car and lock the doors.” Jeff grabbed my chin, lifted my face to his, and added, “Get home.”

Jeff ended each night we worked together like this.

He stood next to me by my car. “Be safe.”

I gave him a hug, smiled against his chest, and said, “Always.”

But I knew that spoken word was a lie.

Once I started the ignition, I blew into my hands and rubbed them together. It was getting cold, colder than normal for the end of September. I put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, turning left to head back to my place. I rubbed my eyes, completely exhausted, and wiggled my toes because they hurt so badly. I couldn't wait to take my boots off and let my feet breathe.

It took me close to twenty minutes to get home. I hit every single red light. Of course, that would be my luck tonight. If I were lucky and hit every green light, it would only take me ten minutes. Finally, I was pulling into my parking lot behind a group of four buildings. I lived in the second building on the second floor. They weren't much to look at, just a worn brick building that had storefronts on the front side and about four apartments in each building. We all had our own designated parking spot.

As I was pulling in, I noticed the car that was parked in mine. "God damn it," I snapped. I slowly drove to the furthest end of the parking lot, had a few extra spots, and pulled into one. I hated parking over here. There was no light, so I was always nervous getting out of my car. I was no fool; I knew I lived in a bad neighborhood, but it was all I could afford.

As soon as I shut my car off, I took a look around before getting out to make sure no one was around. It was very late, or should I say very early morning. There were only a few people from the building hanging out around a trash can they had a fire in, drinking, smoking, and I'm sure laughing about some stupid story someone was telling. I made my way to the back stairway that led up to the second floor. I glanced over and smiled at my neighbors because, well, I was a good neighbor!

Putting my keys into the lock on my apartment door that was located on the left of the stairway, I took a deep breath and turned the key and then the knob to the door. I quietly entered my apartment, placing my keys onto the small side table I had by my door, and turned on the table lamp to let in a little light. I walked down the entryway, stopping at the kitchen to grab a water from the fridge.

My kitchen was tiny, with only a few cabinets and barely any counter space, but it had what I needed, well, except for a dishwasher. That was fine; it wasn't like I cooked gourmet meals, mostly ramen, grilled cheese, and a few other quick meals. I downed half the bottle of water I grabbed, feeling better about having something cool down my throat after working all night.

I made my way to the living room if you would call it that. It was almost as small as the kitchen. I had a small brown loveseat against one of the walls with a fluffy yellow throw blanket thrown over it. On the other side was a small television that sat on a stand. I peeked over to the corner of the small room, and there sat my prized possession, my guitar. I hadn't picked it up in a few weeks. I just didn't have it in me.

Tonight, though, I walked myself over to it and picked it up. I turned to the loveseat and plopped down. I held it in my arms, just feeling it. One single tear ran down my cheek, and I wiped it away.

Nope, not going to cry.

As I put the guitar down carefully, I cursed myself for even letting one tear out and for still having these damn boots on. I leaned over and pulled them off my feet, along with my soaked socks. I moved my feet around to try and get rid of the pain. After a minute of letting my feet breathe, I glanced back at my guitar and lifted it back into my arms. I moved my fingers across the strings and looked around the small room, landing on the picture that hung on my wall, the same wall my television was on.

The picture was an 8x10 framed photo of me in the middle, with two huge guys on either side of me squeezing me so tight. They were both huge, one six feet three inches and the other six feet four inches. They both had really short black hair, so short they were almost bald. The one on the right of me had a sleeve tattoo, and the other was tattooed almost anyplace there was skin. Both arms and legs—you couldn't see the ones on his chest from the grey t-shirt he was wearing with black gym shorts.

You would think I was in pain with how much they were squeezing me, but there I was with the biggest, brightest smile on my face. That smile brought out the dimple on my left cheek. You always knew when I was truly happy, that damn dimple would pop out. Those guys in the photo were my home, my protectors, my brothers.

We were all close in age. Conor and Finn were my older twin brothers, now twenty-six years old, and I was now twenty-four. I spent my childhood following my brothers and their best friend Ryan around, making their life hell, always telling on them when they were doing something they should not.

In return, they made my life hell by scaring any boy remotely interested in me away. Because of them, I left for college with no boy experience. Even though I was a huge pain in their ass, we loved each other, and they always took care of me.

Ugh, I miss them right now.

I grabbed my phone from my bag and opened a text message, adding both Conor and Finn to it.

Me: Hi, Con.

Me: Hi, Finn. I miss you.

It took about ten seconds for a reply.

Finn: Are you okay?

---