Blue Monday // New Order

I don't know what I'm doing.

Micah and Gio dragged me to campus for a party. Fuck this. I shouldn't be here. I've stayed away from campus to stay away from Hannah, moving my shit out of the dorm I shared with Jeff. Torturing myself by living at home. Mom's distant. Mark is gone most of the time at his friend's house. I'm left to my own thoughts. Fucked up, angry thoughts.

Here I am, taking my angry thoughts on a field trip. We walk up the steps to the Frat house, some jock frat I didn't bother rushing because at the time the entire Greek system had no appeal. It still doesn't but for so many other reasons. The house is already a wreck just by judging the front porch. There's a couch cushion ripped apart and tossed across the wood. Plastic cups are everywhere, and the two benches are occupied with couples in various states of making out. I avert my eyes.

"Some shots and some ass will cure you, dude." Gio throws the front door open and makes an exaggerated entrance.

I scoff. Gio is all about getting laid. Micah is more relaxed about hooking up, but I've watched him prowl. He'd go for it if the opportunity was made available to him. I, on the other hand, might be sick just thinking about touching another girl. That's not what I need.

"Not what the doctor ordered, Gio." I shouldn't be here. Part of me came on the off chance that I might catch a glimpse of Hannah, to see how she's doing. That would be a terrible idea, though. I'm not that strong. I'd do something I'd regret. Or that she'd regret. I don't want to hurt her any more than I have. That's the entire point of pulling away.

"Don't mind Gio. He's got a one-track mind." Micah shoves his buddy. "And the reputation to go with it."

"Hey," Gio straightens his jacket, "my rep is gold. It gets the job done, if you know what I mean."

"If by job, you mean...job, then yeah. We know what you mean. The towel on the door handle may be a signal to stay out while you get down, but it isn't sound-proof, bro. The entire floor knows about your activities." Micah rolls his eyes. I tune them out and glance around the party.

It's packed. People are shoulder to shoulder moving through the Frat house, spilling beer as they go. This scene is familiar. Too familiar. It's like being transported to the past and that's not a place I want to go. I swallow my irritation and follow my friends through the crowd and into the kitchen. Also packed. Half empty bottles litter the countertops, bottom barrel vodka and sodas. Someone left a half-eaten pizza still in the box under the sink faucet. The water is running, and the pizza is now goo. Parties at the Lot weren't this ridiculous.

I'm knocked left and right as party-goers push past me, laughing and talking as though it's the best party of the year. I do not share their sentiments. How long have I been here? Ten minutes? A half hour? Long enough to have a raging headache, that's for sure.

"I'm calling it." I pat Gio on the shoulder with one hand and pull my keys out of my pocket with the other. "I'll catch you at practice on Monday."

Micah salutes me and pushes through the crowd toward the backdoor, most likely hunting for the keg. Gio shakes his head, giving me the pity eyes. I fucking hate that look. He leans in closer to say something.

"I heard she's just as messed up, if that helps." He has to yell the words over the music.

"No. It doesn't fucking help. Don't talk about her." I want to knock him out for even bringing her up. What is wrong with him? I don't want to think about her. I don't want to know. If I know, I'll lose my shit. Just hearing that she's not doing well makes me feel...crazy. My brain betrays me, picturing her in her dorm, on her bed. Under me. I have to get out of here. I turn to leave when Gio throws one last thought my way.

"It's got to get better, man."

I'd laugh but even the sarcastic response I'd normally throw back is dead before it forms. I just nod once and head back out, rushing away from the memories. The fresh air hits me once I'm free and I gulp it in. I didn't realize how suffocated I felt until I could actually breathe. It doesn't ease anything, however. I'm still a fucked up piece of shit. I jump in my car and drive home where I should have stayed. Coming out was a mistake. And Gio's wrong. It won't get better.

It can't.

How can my life get better when I'm too toxic to live it?

***

Another week has gone by that feels like a time warp. I'm back to classes and practice but won't return to the dorms. The less time I'm on campus, the better. I avoid Gio because all he wants to do is get me laid. I avoid Jeff because of his ties to Hannah. I avoid my mom because she's still acting like my dad wasn't a liar. I avoid Hannah because I have to. I have to.

I'm not unaffected enough to be strong around her. I'll cave. It took everything I had to watch her walk away and not go after her, tell her I was wrong. That I need her. That she's everything. That I love her and I'm afraid of the man I'm becoming. Of the man that I am deep down.

Of becoming him.

I warned her. I laid out my biggest fears and this is it, being just like him. I found myself doing and saying things he would. So, no. I can't be with her. Even if it's what I want more than anything else.

I'm hiding in my room once again, gaming my pain away. At least I'm not drunk. My mom's apologetic knock sounds before she cracks it open. I've taken to leaving it unlocked most of the time now that I know my dad won't be the one barging in. To be honest, I'm worried about my mom. But she's also driving me fucking nuts, so I keep to myself when she's home.

"Matt, can you help me go through some of your father's things. There may be some keepsakes you'd like." Her tone is gentle, but she might as well be screaming at me for the way my brain reacts to her request.

"Why would I want anything of his?" I don't even try to hide my disgust.

"Oh, well...I just thought-"

"No, you didn't. If you did, you would have remembered that he was a shitty dad and I don't want anything of his."

I hear her sharp intake. I know my words shocked her. Probably hurt her. But the woman doesn't remember the guy the way I do, apparently. And it's really pissing me off.

"Matt, please don't."

"Don't what, Mom? Speak the truth? I can't pretend he was loving, or kind, or that he even cared about us. He picked us apart when he was here and stayed gone longer than he needed to. I know. His coworkers told me. He'd be gone weeks longer than the actual job. Did you know?"

"It's...it's not what you think."

"What I think is that my father didn't love his family enough to deal with us. I think that he'd rather be hidden away in some hotel room than be with us. I think that he probably had someone else he'd rather spend that time with."

My mom's tears should make me feel like shit for what I'm saying, but they only serve to piss me off more. Her eyes were sewn shut for who knows how long. I can't pretend anymore even if she wants to.

"That's not what went on. I promise you. He didn't have anyone else."

Lies. Or denial. It really doesn't matter which.

"I'm going out."

My mom wipes her eyes and stands straighter, pulling herself up and stuffing the emotion away. Just like she'd do with my dad. He hated her tears.

"You shouldn't drive when you're this upset. It's not safe."

She's right. But I don't care. My need to leave is stronger than my need to be safe. I say no more, grab my keys and go. Just like dear old dad used to. I don't even know where I'm going. I drive aimlessly around town, nostalgia at every turn. The burger shack where I'd hang with Hannah last summer. The library. The park. The mall. All places I'd go with her. I remember every look, every touch. Then I replay the fight I had with my mom and remember the reason I'm not with Hannah right now.

Before I know it, I'm driving by the school. By the Lot. It's a Friday night. There's no indication from the road if there's a party going on. I would be shocked if there wasn't. I almost drive by. I almost ignore the temptation.

But I don't. Instead, I make the turn and drive to the back section. The second I round the corner and see the gathering, I feel a sick satisfaction. I know exactly what to expect from a night at the Lot. To get fucked up.

I park away from the circle of cars set up with music. I don't second guess this questionable choice when I shut off the engine and exit the car. I shove my hands in my pockets and look around. Same shit, different day. That's what I see. Younger faces, the new seniors that have taken over the run of the Lot. The people are different but that's it.

I wander over to the circle of cars. Beer is stashed sporadically in trunks, not in one location. In our high school minds, it was easier to make a quick getaway without leaving behind evidence. Stupid. But this crowd is doing the same thing. I grab a can, same cheap brand that's usually available on a night at the Lot and take a long gulp. I used to prefer the hard stuff. I'd drink a third of Jack on Lot night and puke on Pete's car. But I haven't touched a thing in months. This watered out beer might affect me more than before.

I recognize a few juniors from the team last year, seniors now. They throw arms out in greeting, welcoming me back like a king.

"Matt! Yo, a legend in the flesh!" Sean, this year's starting quarterback and a guy I considered a friend a couple years ago. "You should be at a college party. We're kindergarteners over here."

I nod, tilting my beer in acknowledgment even though he's one hundred percent wrong. The party Gio took me to was a disaster. Lot parties are sophisticated in comparison.

"Consider this a spot check. Making sure the legend of the Lot is still strong."

Sean looks around. "Do we pass, oh wise one?"

I laugh, nod and gulp the rest of the beer. It's so thin it doesn't even have a bite.

"Hey, let me hook you up with something better." Sean points at me to wait.

I lean against the closest car and watch as he makes the rounds and grabs a can from another guy. Sean reminds me so much of myself. Just last year I was in his shoes, with no clue what was coming. True, I hated my life, myself. But it wasn't like this.

Now I've had a taste of true happiness and had to let it go. Now I know.

"Here. This is quality. More your speed."

I grab the can from Sean's outstretched hand. It's a local craft beer. Almost 9 percent. Shit, double the alcohol content of the crap I was just drinking. I pop the top and lift it to my lips. It's good. Not that it matters.

I shouldn't be here. Or drinking. But I can't go home, not yet. So I take another dose of liquid regrets and watch the scene before me. I'm halfway through the can when the real problem appears.

Courtney.

Damnit, I wasn't even thinking of her when I came here. I watch her recognize me and the smile that snakes onto her face and realize I'm fucked. Too drunk to drive away, too disgusted with myself to stay, and about to be cornered by my biggest nightmare from high school.

Not my biggest regret. There is a distinction. The way I treated my ex, Amber, is my biggest regret. That girl did not deserve the shit I put her through. But Courtney is a different story. She seeks trouble, craves it. Thrives on the drama. The way she saunters to me is evidence that she hasn't changed a bit.

"Look who we have here. Slumming with the peasents?" Courtney smirks, running her finger down my chest.

"Just saying hi to some of the guys," I say. I keep my hands to myself and avoid looking into her eyes. She's a medusa and I don't need more problems.

"Hmm, lucky me." Her hand slides to my waist then wraps around my back drawing us chest to chest.

"No thanks, Court. We didn't exactly part on good terms, remember?"

She pouts. I fucking hate that pout.

"Still? It's been so long, Matt. Come on. For old times sake?" She presses her lips right to my ear, whispering exactly which old times she has in mind.

Still holding the can of beer, I use my free hand to peel her off me. "No. Not interested."

"You look really tense. I could relax you. I used to relax you so good when you were tense from fighting with Amber. Remember?"

Before I can react, her lips are on mine. I drop the beer and put both hands on her shoulder, pushing her away.

"Fuck." I wipe my mouth and walk away. I don't get ten steps before I have to bend over and hurl. I know it's not from the beer. I haven't had nearly enough to do this much damage. This is from guilt. From shame. Even my body is pissed at me.

I don't bother stopping for longer than it takes to puke and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I walk by my car, double checking that its locked, and keep going. When I make it to the curve and start heading to the main lot, I pull my phone out and order an Uber. The walk of shame to the road has me puking one final time. I'm over this shit.

The car picks me up a few minutes later. Courtney didn't follow me, thank god. Sean won't miss me. This was a stupid idea. Now I'll have to figure out how to get back here for my car tomorrow. Once I'm dropped off, I head straight to my bathroom to shower. Then I try to sleep off the guilt. But I don't think a guy can sleep as long as that will take.

If you saw my author's note, you know this story has been STOLEN by a cheap knock off website that charges for reads and impersonates authors with plagiarized material. If you are reading this on ANY OTHER site, you probably let a virus into your device. Just saying.

Anyway...I've had this scene in my head for months. And this week's music was a big inspiration. Although my boy Matt did a much better job staying relatively sober and responsible than originally planned. He was going to get trashed and that Courtney encounter was going to go in a totally different direction. But I'm a pantser who let's the characters lead and he hated that plan. He pretty much hates everything right now. Poor guy.

DON'T WORRY ITS ALL ABOUT TO GO SIDEWAYS. No spoilers but stick around. *wink*

MORE ANGST AWAITS YOU!! If you need even MORE angst than this story, you have to read Broken Lullaby which will go live on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited IN JUST A FEW DAYS!! Link in my bio