[18] The Return

(Malory)

I get out of my warm, vanilla-scented bath and curl my toes into the bathroom mat, staring at my figure in the large oval mirror over the sink.

I don’t look like I used to. There are dark circles around my eyes again and I just can’t seem to fix them anymore. My shape has changed a bit –I’ve become thinner.

But how could I? I haven’t stopped eating.

My eyes are dimmer, too. They used to be a brighter grey. Brighter and a little more blue –or maybe I’m just tired and the white light in the room is fighting against my weary perspective.

Yea.

That has to be it.

I’m just tired.

It’s been a couple hours since I almost took a taxi to Kyle’s place. I’m tired of messaging him and not getting any responses. After getting no replies to my texts for a solid hour, I gave up. I just gave up. He can do whatever the hell he wants anyway. I had to remind myself that Malory Lloyd does not beg members of the male species for answers. I will get the answers myself –after I get some sleep.

I grab my towel from the hanger and dry my skin before leaving the bathroom. The house is so quiet. It’s always quiet. Whether my mom is here or not –it’s just too quiet all the time.

It’s not like I miss the action that happened here all the time when my dad was around. I don’t. Arguing, glass breaking, the chaotic consequences of drunkenness… it’s better off without all that.

Still, sometimes I can hear the echoes of the chaos in these now silent walls. I remember it all so clearly –like it’s still happening; still real; still alive.

It’s all I’ve ever known.

It scares me.

I open my drawers to find a pair of pyjama pants and my favourite old, white T shirt. The older it gets, the cosier it feels. I get dressed and sit on my bed, contemplating over whether to read a book until I fall asleep or just turn off the lights and stare at the ceiling until I do instead.

I grip at my blanket and decide to just go with the latter when my phone –charging on the bedside table- rings.

“Olivia?”

“Hey, you,” she says, tiredly. “Did you find out what happened with Kyle?”

I keep forgetting I need to update her and Ron about what’s going on with Kyle.

“He’s really busy. He’s barely said anything. I think it’s his uncle though. His uncle probably has him running lots of errands. He’s supposed to be leaving the country again soon, I think. I tried to drop off his notes, but he wasn’t in, so I couldn’t.” I lie.

“Oh. That’s a bummer. But I guess you’re going to be the first to see him on Monday anyway, so you’ll just keep the notes for him til’ then, okay?”

I nod. “Okay,” I say. I really need a topic change. I don’t feel like thinking about Kyle Davidson. “I’m really tired tonight. I don’t even know what I did to be this tired.”

“It could be so many things,” she tells me, after a beat. “Like… maybe it’s that you’re worried about your mom being away from home, or that you’re alone in that house, or it could be the pressure of the play while trying to keep up with your grades, or knowing our final exams are right around the corner. Or, I don’t know, something could have also happened at work and that’s why you’re so on edge these days, but whatever it is, please for the love of God, Mal, take care of yourself.”

Maybe it’s all those things and more…

I bite my lip. “Okay,” I say.

“You need to stop worrying. All your hair will fall out,” she says, laughing to try to cheer me up.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” I say, dryly, though I’m smiling.

“Worth a shot,” she mutters over the other end of the line.

“Well, I’m going to get some rest,” I tell her. “I’ll message you tomorrow.”

“Sleep well,” she says.

“You too,” I reply.

I hang up after a second and lose the grip on my phone. It hits my leg and I flinch for a second. I look around my room and sigh. My eyes land on the light switch. I drag myself over to it to turn it off. I let the moonlight creeping through my window between the opaque grey curtains guide me back to my bed.

***

(Kyle)

Right on time.

The airport isn’t packed with people. It’s never packed when Ace leaves the country, and it’s never packed when he returns.

I feel uneasy as I step off the plane with him. I tuck the hem of my royal blue shirt into my black trousers and nod at passing strangers. I don’t expect to feel like I’m some established guest from a foreign land, but I do. It’s an unnerving feeling –like everyone’s eyes are on me. I don’t want to feel this way –but I know that it’s something that Ace wants. I know he doesn’t care about appearances. He doesn’t have to. Every dirty little disturbance clouding others from noticing his squeaky clean reputation is handled by someone else –by everyone else.

But what about me?

I don’t want to become him.

I will never become him.

I am not like him.

I am not him.

We get into our designated car –Ace in the front passenger’s seat, me in the back.

We pass the mini mart and the little craft and souvenir store beside the cafe. I pull out my phone to reread all the messages Malory sent me. She just won’t stop nagging. There’s no way I can tell her what’s really going on.

I just hope she puts some of that brain to use and keeps what I told her to herself. I hope she hasn’t told Ron or Olivia. Something tells me she hasn’t. I believe that she hasn’t. If there’s one thing the two of us are good at, it’s playing along. I don’t get why even when she doesn’t know what’s going on she covers for me, but she always does, and I have to say, I am grateful. It’s sort of a silent understanding between us. I could never ask her to do it, so I appreciate that she does.

The ride back home is silent; tense. I text Ron so he knows I’m not dead.

Me: Roomie

Are you busy later today?

Roomie: I should say yes just because you went M.I.A again

You’re missing way too much school

are you aware that I hang out with two girls when you’re not there?

what has you so busy lately?

Me: Are you aware that it is almost November?

Roomie: How can one not be aware of that?

Why, though?

Me: You argue too much

what if I was planning to get you a birthday gift and I had to go somewhere to get it?

Maybe I should take the next three days off from school and head right back there to return it

Roomie: my birthday isn’t until the end of November, bitch.

Me: So?

The earlier the better

Roomie: I don’t believe you. You seriously went M.I.A for three days to get me a birthday present? I’m not that important.

Am I?

Me: Your birthday IS important to me, Hoffman. Stop whining and just accept the fact that your birthday is going to be a blast.

I mean the present isn’t much, though,

Really.

Roomie: ?

Me: Don’t over think it

In fact, forget I even told you I got you a present. I don’t want you expecting something and being disappointed.

Roomie: you’re a great best friend. *note the sarcasm*

Me: By the way…

Do you think your mom will let you stay out past midnight on your birthday?

Roomie: Hah! Hilarious. As if you don’t know my mother.

There is a chance, though. I mean… they are getting me a car…

Me: exactly

which is why I asked

Roomie: Why though?

planning a trip somewhere?

Me: don’t ask why. It’s got something to do with your gift.

Roomie: I hate you. I hate you a lot. I hope you know that.

Me: Thanks.

Roomie: heading off to lit lessons. I’ll talk to you later.

Me: Okay. Bye.

So I wasn’t really getting Ron a great birthday present while I was away –but I did manage to grab a few things I know he’d like. They’re just a few bottles of whiskey and foreign brands of alcohol. Ron always wanted to drink –but with a mother and father like his who are pretty strict with him, well, drinking wasn’t a usual pass time.

That being said, if he gets to stay out for his birthday it’ll be a great opportunity to do that. Yes, I know. I’m not exactly a great best friend for wanting to get him drunk, but still. Getting drunk once in his life won’t kill him.

Probably.

“What’s the name of the play you’re in?” Ace suddenly asks, from the front seat.

“Masked at Midnight,” I reply.

“Never heard of it,” he says, bored. “Is it supposed to be good?”

“I don’t know. I’d never heard of it before I got the part, either,” I tell him.

He hums for a beat. “Doesn’t matter to me anyway, I guess.”

The car goes silent again.

Of course it doesn’t matter.

Who would ever go to cheer for me?

***

(Ron)

“We’ll see,” mom says, as we arrive to the building where I’ll stop off for lessons.

That means no.

It always means no.

I’m wondering if Kyle’s relationship with my mom is going to sway her at all this time. Seems like they have a better mother-son relationship than she has with me. He can always seem to talk to her about her science stuff –she’s a pharmacist – while I’m always lost as to what they’re talking about. But I wonder if their good relationship will change her mind about letting me stay out. It’s not like my father can sway her.

“I’m off,” I say, stepping out of the car. “Drive safely, mom.”

“Call me if you need me,” she says, like always.

I think about what Kyle said.

Did he really go out of his way to get me a birthday present?

Pffft. Doubt it.

Though… he did say he was going to try to be nicer to me –or was it ‘more open’?

Doesn’t it mean the same thing… technically?

Oh well.

Whatever.

I stroll into the building and up the stairs into my literature class with ten minutes to spare before the session begins. I sit beside a kid two years younger than me, named Timothy, and listen to him babble on and on about this video game he’s always playing until eventually I get bored and pull out my Shakespeare book to finish reading the chapter I’ve been stuck on for the past week.

***

(Olivia)

“But I have school,” I say.

“We know, honey,” she says, glancing over to my dad before turning back to me, “which is why you’ll stay here while we go. We’ll have your aunt watch over you while we’re gone. Rachel and Denise will be there to keep you company, too. You won’t be alone.”

I’ve stopped eating my lunch. I don’t feel hungry anymore.

My parents have just informed me that they will be going on a missions trip to South Africa –both of them will be going, along with a team from the church. Usually when they go anywhere, I’m always tagging along. It ends up being a family trip, of sorts. Today... well... this is a surprise.

“How long is this trip going to be?” I ask, lowly.

“Not long,” my dad says, “Two weeks –Sunday to Sunday.”

“Yes,” mom confirms. “We’re finalising everything and then we’ll make a general statement to the church and organise the travelling group –but you obviously had to be the first to know.”

“It’s going to be weird,” I say, grimacing. “You’ve never left me alone like that.”

“But we know you’re responsible,” my mom says smiling. She puts a warm hand over mine as it lays limp on the dining room table. “You can take care of yourself for just a little while. And it’s not like you’ll be alone alone. Your Aunty Naomi and cousins are good company. I’m sure you’ll be fine. And if you’re feeling lonely, talk to God, and if you miss us, call.”

Right.

I suppose my aunt and cousins are fair company –but Rachel cares about clothes too much, and Denise does nothing but suck up to her mother.

Aunt Naomi... maybe I could persuade her into letting me out sometimes. She knows Malory. She won’t have a problem with it. I think.

“I will. I will call frequently. Both of you make sure to be safe while you’re gone. I’m saying it in advance,” I tell them as they continue eating.

I look down at my plate –half my food is gone, so I might as well eat the rest of it.

Suddenly, I’m in a lighter mood.

This could be my chance.

Maybe for once, I can experience a new level of freedom.

***

(Malory)

As I stroll through the corridor, I notice Adrien jogging in the field. It’s too early to be sweating, I think.

I start jogging until I catch up him.

“Again with the jogging? Do you have a birthday twice a year?” I joke.

He laughs. “Sadly, no. I jog when I need to think, usually.”

“What do you need to think about so seriously this early in the morning? What’s on your mind that you have to literally jog it out?” I ask.

“My dad?” He says, more like a question than a statement.

“Oh? What about him, then?”

“He’s acting up again.”

Adrien stops jogging. In the sunlight his hair looks sort of blonde –though it really doesn’t appear to be anything but light brown on other days. His electric blue armhole shirt is soaking wet with sweat. His hazel eyes squint as he looks in the direction of the sun. He bends over to catch a breath. I catch a glimpse of his abs. I look away and clear my throat lowly. I feel awkward.

“He’s started this old habit of drinking the minute he gets off duty. He either comes home so drunk that he passes out on the front door because he can’t open it with his key, or he doesn’t come home at all.”

“What does your dad even do?” I ask.

“He’s an officer. Works with the Government. Noticed by his own kind but at the same, he’s not noticed at all. Know what I mean?”

“Works with the government? Well, now I see why you end up moving a lot,” I say.

“Yea. So, right now, I’m trying to take care of him while he’s home and dealing with him not being home the other half of the time.”

“I know the feeling,” I mutter. I’d almost forgotten that Adrien doesn’t know the situation with my mom and that my dad is dead. “It must be hard. It gets lonely, doesn’t it?”

“Yea, but what can we do about it, right?”

“You don’t hang out with Olivia and me anymore,” I say, suddenly offended. “What? Did the guys from gym finally take you in as one of their own?”

He laughs. “I’m hanging out with Haden and Ross –and all the other guys that fill into their pack of wolves. They’re alright guys, I guess.”

“Jason, Ben and Pope, too?”

I’ve got blackmail on all of these people...

He nods. “Yea. But I haven’t abandoned you guys. I’ll check up on you sometimes.” He offers me a smile.

I think Olivia would appreciate the check up more than I would.

He stretches and says he should probably finish the lap and head back to the boys’ room before the bell rings.

He continues his jog. I stand, watching him get further and further away before I turn to head back into the building.

His dad is an officer?

How convenient.

When I make it to the locker hallway, Olivia is walking in. She notices me, smiling brightly. She meets me halfway.

“I have news,” she says, her eyes widening with enthusiasm.

“Well this ought to be good,” I say, smirking.

We walk over to her locker. She opens it and begins fixing her books as she explains this whole concept of her parents leaving for South Africa and how she’ll be off of their leash for the two weeks.

How epic this is for her.

Ron walks in and creeps up behind her to startle her, midsentence.

“What sort of sick, twisted plan are you both plotting together here in such whispers?” he asks. “If you’re planning to use the acid from the chemistry lab to burn down the school, count me in. I’m not looking forward to math today.”

“I- I don’t know why I never thought about doing that,” I say, impressed.

As Olivia begins explaining to Ron the joy of already feeling a tinge of freedom, I glance to the entrance to spot a familiar silhouette; black hair, neatly swaying across a familiar face as he bounces on his steps towards the door.

Kyle.

He’s back.

The first thing I notice is the plaster on the right side of his lip.

My heart does a flip.

Did he get into another fight with his uncle?

As he gains on me I notice the rest of his get up; a perfectly-pressed plain white, long-sleeved shirt. Black jeans –no rips on the knees. Clean designer sneakers. He looks… different.

But doesn’t he care about the cut on his lip?

I can see blood leaking through the plaster. I stop breathing.

I forget that Ron and Olivia are speaking beside me as I slow a step forward.

At first, he doesn’t even realise I’m there, but then he looks up.

And that’s when I start running.

***

(Kyle)

I fix my bag straps over my shoulders and clear my throat, not deliberate in my steps towards her, but still moving forward.

She looks annoyed –worried –relieved.

She finally stops just a few feet in front of me, huffing out a breath and bending forward, pushing me backwards with a hand.

“You,” she says, slightly out of breath. She regains her posture to look up at me, and she’s no longer worried. “What the hell happened to your face this time?” she asks, upset.

Behind her, Ron and Olivia turn in the distance to see me. They start walking over. I turn back to Malory. She raises a brow, still waiting for my reply.

“Nothing,” I say. “Forget about it.”

She punches me on my arm –and she does it with an impact great enough that I know she’s serious. “Nothing,” she spits, “it’s always nothing.” She hits me again. “Don’t” –she hits- “you know,” –she hits again, “how worried,” –another hit- “I was about you?” –Hit –hit –hit -all on the same arm.

“Ouch,” I say, slowly and calmly. “Who are you? Muhammad Ali?”

She sends a fist right at my chest and I hear the thump as it makes the impact. She sends her next fist at my chest and I listen to the impact again. “I hate you!” she says, “I hate you! I hate you!”

I don’t budge. I let her hit me. I kinda deserve it.

“I should trip you and throw a ton of bricks right over you,” she says. “I should throw you into a swimming pool and cover it with an iron sheet.”

“Whoa, Malory, take it easy,” Ron says, reaching behind her. He gasps. “Dude, what the hell happened to your face?”

“Is that why you went M.I.A again?” Olivia asks, suspicious.

“He smoked a roll of stupid and didn’t exhale is what,” Malory says, spitefully. She looks up at me, frustrated. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What happened?” Ron asks.

“Yea,” Olivia says, “What’s going on?”

I feel claustrophobic.

“I’m fine!” I almost yell. “A burst lip isn’t going to kill me.”

“Yea,” Malory says. “But me gripping your hair and banging your head repeatedly against the lockers might.”

“Why the hell do you care what happens to me, Malory?” I ask her.

Suddenly everyone has gone silent.

Malory huffs a breath –and I realise maybe I shouldn’t have asked that question. If she were to say what was on her mind she might reveal what she knows about my uncle to Ron and Olivia. I feel stupid.

Instead, Malory grips at my two arms and shakes me aggressively. “Because we care about you, asshole! First it was a big-ass bruise and now it’s a bleeding lip! –Again! And you disappear all of a sudden and then reappear out of thin air like nothing happened! Who even are you anymore?” And with that, her voice goes low. “I thought we were friends? Is that how you treat your friends? Is that how you treat Ron?” She asks, gesturing to him. “You just do whatever you want and don’t tell anyone what’s going on?”

I feel guilty.

“This play is supposed to help us get along,” she says, and she doesn’t sound angry anymore. “But it’s like ever since this term started you just haven’t been the same at all. You’re missing more school. You’re closed off. You’re getting beaten up. What the hell is going on, Kyle?”

That’s it.

“I can’t fucking tell you, Malory! I got into a fight. I got beaten up. So what? I’m not the only guy in senior year that gets into fights. I’m not the only guy who stays away from school! Give it a rest!”

There’s a tense silence in the locker hallway.

“Mal...” Ron says, staring at me, “Just leave him. He always does this to me. Why would he do any different to anyone else?” He swallows hard.

Olivia pulls at Malory’s arm but she shoves her off. Malory doesn’t take her eyes off of me. Her grey eyes have gone glassy with welling tears and the slight bit of blue is starting to show up –just like the last time I saw her cry.

“No, Olive,” she says, as Olivia tries to pull her away again. “I need to make this loud and clear to this jackass.” She stares right at me. “People care about you –whether you like it or not –whether you accept it or not –whether you want it or not. People want the best for you. People look out for you. People try their hardest even when you’re standing on their last nerve. You know what, Davidson? I don’t care what you think. I still think you’re my friend and I still think that friends are always supposed to be there for each other. Whether you decide that you want to get along with me or not is your business, but I’m going to keep nagging you for answers.

“I don’t treat you like I used to for a reason. I don’t see why I’d need to treat you like that anymore. I was right all along. You’re pathetic, and you live a pathetic life. You’re covering up all this bullshit with good grades and an excellent reputation or whatever, but you’re not hiding anything from me.”

She turns and lets out a long shaky breath, walking off. Olivia and Ron watch her leave. They look back at me. They say nothing. They follow behind her.

People care about you...

People look out for you...

Don’t you know how worried I was about you?

Damn you, Malory Lloyd.

Why did my heart start beating faster?

Why did my breathing get heavy hearing those things from you?

How could you?

How could you say those things without knowing what they mean to me?

You’re really something, Lloyd.

***

(Malory)

The table is quiet as Ron and Olivia sit beside each other –opposite to me- eating their lunches.

“I’m surprised you didn’t yell at me for cursing at Kyle,” I say, not looking at Olivia.

“I didn’t have a reason to,” she says, carefully.

“Why is the lunch table so quiet today?” I ask. “Do you both think I’ll explode and walk away again?” I try to make it sound like a joke, but I can’t bring myself to smile.

“I’m sorry,” a voice says behind me.

Kyle?

I stop stabbing the fork at my macaroni pie.

I don’t turn to look at him. “For what?” I ask, “Or is that none of my business, either?”

He sits beside me.

“Who said you were welcome to sit?” Ron asks him.

“Shut up, Ron. I’m trying to apologize,” Kyle says.

“Yea. By talking to your best friend like that,” Olivia says.

Kyle exhales sharply and shuts his eyes for a moment. “Yes. I know I haven’t been myself since the start of this term...” he says, pausing to choose his words carefully, “but... you have to believe me when I say that... I wasn’t planning for this term to be… the way that it’s turning out.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“My uncle has me doing a lot more now,” he says. “He’s busier… and I have to do so much for him and for myself, too. I- I’m just… tired.”

“That doesn’t explain the bruises,” Ron tells him.

“If I tell you why I have them,” he pauses, “you have to promise me not to ask for an elaboration on the subject.”

Wait, what?

I drop the fork and look at him.

“Promise,” Olivia says, sighing.

“Fine. I promise. Whatever.” Ron says.

“I had a debt to repay,” Kyle says. “And I didn’t pay it off in time.”

You’re lying.

“A debt?” I ask, raising a brow. “Really?”

“Yes, Lloyd, really,” he tells me, annoyed.

“Tragic, really,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

He turns to a disappointed Ron. “I told you I’d be more open with you –but I can’t tell you everything at once.”

“You can, actually,” Ron says. “But whatever. Take your time.”

Kyle sulks. “So do you all forgive me, then? I can’t have Ron staying mad at me –and Olivia is the only person who cares enough to keep my notes –and I have to get along with you, Malory, for the play, so...”

“I forgive you. But you’re still a dick,” Ron tells him.

“I agree,” I say, nodding with a pout.

“I’ve never hated you,” Olivia says. “I’m cool with whatever.”

Kyle huffs out a relieved smile. “Thank you,” he says, lowly. “So, Lloyd,” he says, lifting his spirit, “What do you say we actually start rehearsing for this thing?”

He doesn’t sound frustrated or mad when he says it, but instead hopeful. Like he genuinely wants to make the effort, and get things done the right way.

He offers me a small smile and the plaster on his lip stretches a bit. It looks as though it hurts –and I watch it hoping he doesn’t go through anything worse. I find myself being grateful that he took out the snakebites. I don’t think he’ll be needing them anymore –and once his lip heals completely, I think he’ll be better off without them.

He’d definitely look better without them.

“About damned time, Davidson,” I say, shoving him away slightly with my shoulder and smiling as I get back to stabbing my lunch.