Who knew

Explanations

I was never good at trusting people. Maybe, I was always foolishly scared to get hurt by someone and opening up. Or jumping in the abyss of feelings frequently felt like a stupidity I would've never done. My whole life vision after the break up with Josh was straight and simple: don't fall for anyone too quick and don't let that "anyone" play with you. It seemed like I failed both and now had to find out where it was leading me.

Marshall didn't call. Hell, as if it wasn't predictable. In a situation like this, the last thing he wanted to do was know how I felt about it, and still, I was sitting staring at my phone all day long. And no, there was nothing to do about it.

It wasn't like I was surprised. I guess he warned me about it a couple of times and the fact that it all happened that night was just the result of tension and our emotions. I wasn't able to stop. He wasn't able to stop. Shit happens in life so why make a fuss about it, right? Except, I felt just a little bit too upset and no rational thinking was able to help with that.

I was fucked up. Strongly and cruelly fucked up.

'I just don't understand.'

Denaun's frustrated voice rang in my ears, mixing with the sound of the TV news going at the medium volume, flashing in front of my eyes with the colorful blue lightened images. Mariah Carey appeared on the screen in the news flash about "The Warning" and disappeared instantly to let the host announce a weather forecast. On Sunday it was cloudy but warm in Detroit and it was such a shame I paid attention to it as much as I did to Denaun talking.

It was the next day, Denaun's crib and a little old debriefing.

'I just don't fucking understand!' Denaun repeated loudly for the tenth time in the row, going back and forth across the room with a furrow on his features. The TV going in the background was not much of a disturber for his active thought process and so was his rapid walking. Huh.

'What the hell you don't understand?'

The owner of the oh so polite answer was no one else but Royce. He was sitting on the couch, leaning on the backrest lazily, watching Denaun with a skeptical expression and throwing his glance at the TV without a big interest. Looking at his behavior, it was hard to imagine he was the one calling me and inviting me over to Denaun's place to have a talk. It seemed like he knew everything Denaun was so devastatingly trying to find out. Or maybe, he was just pretending.

'He's an asshole, that's all you have to know by now' he added in a well-made despise, throwing Denaun one of those "oh come on, buddy, it's obvious" unimpressed looks. For some reason, it felt like a scene from a sitcom.

'But we didn't teach him like that!' Denaun parried with a legit serious parental expression as if Marshall was some naughty son he gave the whole life of his to raise. Judging by the devastation and anger in his tone the son was not only naughty but ungrateful. After all, nothing could be worse for a loving parent, am I right?

'What are you talking about?' Royce's face turned into a funny grimace, unfortunately refusing to buy the nonsense Denaun was so eager to express. But at least, now he was in full attention. 'We never taught him anything' he added with a wry snort, making some helpless gestures with his hands as if proving Denaun's foolishness.

'Maybe, that's the problem, Royce. Maybe, this is the goddamn problem!'

Denaun's answer was passionate and a bit comical with the severe gesture of his index finger that resembled the teacher's pointer. At that point of the conversation, Denaun couldn't really decide who he wanted to be for Marshall in that situation: a parent or a life teacher. Perhaps, both?