21. Ryan

21

RYAN

I jogged home, willing my tired legs to carry me a few feet longer as I rounded the bend to my apartment complex. Someone was walking their dog along the sidewalk outside, and as I hurried past them, the dog whipped around to bark at me. Its owner shushed it, but I barely heard it. All I paid attention to was the pounding of my heart and the lump rising in my throat, threatening to choke me if I held back my tears any longer.

I got inside and slammed the door behind me, falling to my knees in a heap of tears the moment I was alone and safe from prying eyes and ears. I’d hurt the one person I cared about beyond repair, and there was nothing left for me to turn to. Every good thing that had happened to me in the God-forsaken town was gone, and I was the one to throw it all away.

I only got up when my knees began to ache from the hard floor and the tears had dried up, leaving me with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. It was not a pretty look, and when I shuffled into the bathroom to wash my face, the man who stared back at me in the mirror was unrecognizable.

“Ugh, my parents are going to kill me if I look this bad when they come,” I muttered, splashing cool water all over my face. “They already think I don’t take good enough care of myself.”

When I emerged from the bathroom, I forced myself to find something to eat in the fridge. There was hardly anything inside and I realized that, as much as I dreaded it, I would need to leave and get some groceries sometime before my parents got here.

I remembered Ciel’s insistence that I take them out for dinner one night, and then my thoughts flashed back to our dinner just last night. I would never forget that dinner, or everything that occurred under the secrecy of the table, as long as I lived.

I sniffled, sighed, and grabbed an apple from this fridge. It was hardly enough, but I could barely stand the taste of my own tear right now, let alone some heavier food that I would have to spend time and effort making.

I threw myself back onto the couch and took a bite of the apple. It was crisp and cold, and with my nose stuffed from crying, I couldn’t taste the sweetness or tartness at all. I could have been eating cardboard for all I cared.

As I took another half-hearted bite, something floated down from the windowsill, knocked loose from when I fell back onto the couch a second earlier. I bent over to pick it up, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes again as I spun it around between my fingertips.

“Ciel,” I murmured, stroking the feather softly. “Oh, Ciel, I’m so sorry.”

I lay back on the couch, clutching the feather close to my chest, and stared up at the ceiling. I couldn’t cry again. I didn’t have enough energy left. All I could do was lie still and stare at nothing in particular till sleep came and released me from my torturous existence.

When I got up the next morning, I finally had the fortitude to face all the unread messages on my phone. There was one from my mom asking if it would be all right if they got here in time for lunch, and one from my dad at 5 in the morning saying that they were getting ready to leave and to text or call and let them know that I was okay.

I was far from okay, but I typed a quick note to my mom and told her that I was excited to see them both and I would be ready for them no matter what time they got here. Everything I wrote was a bald-faced lie, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

The only thing that might have mattered to me was a note from Ciel, but there was nothing from him, no matter how many times I checked. Not a single word, the likes of which I would have killed to see pop up. At least if he had said “I hate you,” he still would have been thinking about me. As it stood now, he was nothing more than a sweet memory that would grow only more distant over time.

I forced myself to take a shower and put on a fresh change of clothes. I still had faint bruises on my neck where Ciel had nibbled the day before. No amount of scrubbing could get rid of marks that went past skin deep, so I did my best to ignore them and imagine a life without that dastardly angel.

I just had to convince myself that it wouldn’t be that bad. I’d gone 30-something years without even knowing that angels walked among us. I could live another 40 or so more without noticing them again.

I dragged myself out of the house dangerously close to the time my parents were supposed to arrive to buy some groceries so we could at least eat while they were here, and when I got back, their car was parked out in the parking lot and they were just getting out and stretching.

“Hey Mom, Dad!” I called, picking up my pace to meet them at the car and help them bring their things inside.

“Oh, Ryan, did you just get back from the store?” Mom asked, glancing at the canvas bags slung over one arm.

“Yeah, but that’s all right. I was running a little late this morning.”

“We would have picked that stuff up for you if you’d asked,” Dad said, pulling me into a strong, almost suffocating hug. One of my bags slammed into his back, but he hardly cared.

“I know, but I really don’t mind. I needed to get out for some fresh air today, anyway.”

“Well, it’s good to see you looking healthy and happy for a change.” Mom put her arm around me and kissed my cheek, standing on her tiptoes to reach.

“Here, hand me some of your bags,” I said, pointing toward the car trunk where Dad was beginning to unload. “I still have a free hand.”

We carted everything up the stairs and inside my apartment, which I suddenly noticed was embarrassingly empty. I’d put in almost no effort to unpack or buy things I could have used, and save for the couch and the still-full moving boxes I was using as a coffee table, there was nowhere for my parents to sit or put their things.

“Just set those bags on the floor,” I directed Dad.

He glanced at me with the sort of worried sympathy only a parent could possess, but he set them exactly where I said to and took a seat on the couch, gesturing for Mom to join him.

“Come here, Rebecca. We’ve earned a little rest, don’t you think?”

She rolled her eyes as she sat down next to him. “We’ve been sitting in the car for hours,” she protested. “What would really be nice is a short walk.”

I perked up. “I know of some nice trails in the area. Just let me put these things away and pack a quick lunch, and then we can go for a walk and a picnic.”

I felt better having my parents here, even if my life was otherwise falling apart. They always knew how to make things better, although this time they didn’t even know the reason I was struggling so much. They thought they did, and that only made it worse. I hated lying to them. I hated lying to myself, too, but that was much easier. If only there were a way to stop lying that wouldn’t turn everything upside down.