Bookmark Memories

Chapter 6

The room was blurry when Trevan awoke. He reached for his glasses, fumbling as he positioned them on the bridge of his nose. From a distance, he could hear what seemed like quarreling. He got up, slowly edging to the source of the sound, until he got a better perception of what was being exchanged.

"Mom, you don't understand why he's like this."

"Well, how could I when he talks like that? I mean, you saw him, Maysa, threatening me like I never did a thing for him!" Trevan's heart beat faster from the frail little voice Jennifer was playing. His hand gripped the doorknob, sweat almost forming on his hand as if it was telling him to rethink his decision when May decided to speak up.

"I understand, but Jen–Mom, I mean–you have to realize he's in this process of blaming himself for something."

"Of what? What's that something? Don't be hiding secrets from me too now, young lady!"

"I-It's this girl." Jennifer blinked her eyes twice. "He's having this whole mirage with her and what they could've–" The door slammed open and Trevan stood there with eyes welled up and face full of rage. He interlocked May as if she were his next victim and she stood there agape, ashamed even as she formed words to justify herself.

"Are you fucking retarded?!" Tears slipped from his face as the word came out and May stopped formulating a response as she stood there stunned. She looked to her mom for help, but Jennifer was equally helpless as she took in her son in his most vulnerable state. Trevan didn't wait to be excused, he ran down the stairs, making the heaviest sounds that interrupted Atlas in her slumber.

"It's okay, girl." He bent down to pet her, his fingers getting lost in the blonde tangles of her fur. "I'll be okay." He tried to convince himself that he was sane, that he wasn't going to take the car and get drunk until everything became incoherent to him. He wanted to deceive himself by any means possible that that wasn't the truth. But he knew he didn't have the willpower to sustain the hunger in him for alcohol.

                            •••

The twenty dollars crumpled in Trevan's pocket as he waited to be next in line. He could feel the sweat in his hand slowly creep into the bill. He tightened his fist even more, almost assertively as he looked upon the line with a grunt. He didn't understand why these many people were here at one in the morning. Most of these people were either old or ready to lie on their deathbeds. He bet they couldn't last a second with the drinks they were purchasing. He scoffed and the cashier raised his eyebrow at him.

Trevan made a glare, almost as a threat if the cashier tried to even question him. "Cash or card?" he asked and Trevan took out the twenty dollar bill that had long been drenched in his sweat. The cashier looked at it, sighed, and put it in the register. "Your change," he noted and Trevan stuffed it in his pocket. He negotiated expressing gratitude to the cashier, but he had long tuned him out, addressing the next customer.

Trevan's jaw tightened. He cursed himself for even thinking of expressing gratitude and kicked the door open. The cold air blasted in his face and he waved his hands profusely, even more aggravated. A couple of kids circling the parking lot in front of the liquor store gaped at him as he recuperated himself. One of the kids, a scrawny brown-haired boy, began to snicker and the boy next to him punched him in the arm. "Ow," the skinny boy whined as the boy next to him made eye contact with Trevan.

"Would you–could you give us some beer?" The question tingled Trevan's skin and he was reminded of the time he and Zethus would look at the liquor stores with awe wondering what it would be like to drink alcohol. Now he knew the cold hard truth: how it turned him from innocent to ruthless. He stared at the bottle in his hand, negotiating on giving it to the kid. "Not that bottle... sir." Trevan looked up, almost as if a monster was unveiling its identity, and the boy's stance trembled. "I-I mean, we have cash." The boy revealed a crumpled ten-dollar bill that looked like it had seen hell. Trevan received it, reluctantly, grazing his thumb over the creased part of the bill. He thought of how everyone overlooked the creased part and, instead, focused on the worth of the bill. He wished he could've shown to her, how despite all the bad things in her life, she was worth the fight. Maybe then she'd still be here. His eyes began to well up and the boy who had given the bill retracted his offer.

"No, it's fine," Trevan disposed. But as he returned to the store, he realized he couldn't bear to reface the cashier's tyrant face. His shoulders slumped as he turned back to the boy. He mustered up the courage to look at the boy's face whose eyebrows were now creased with concern. "I don't think you can buy a beer for ten bucks."

The boy looked back to his friends and Trevan had a feeling he knew he was bluffing. "The prices have risen since Biden became president."

The boy looked at him, shocked, and then dug his pocket. "I might have five," he mustered, but all that came out were a few coins. Trevan looked at the beer in his hand before looking at the boy. "Are you sure?" Trevan nodded his head.

"Yeah, I mean, I could always—I could always get another... one." He contained his nonchalant as the boy gently grasped the bottle from his hand.

"Thanks, dude. Here." He plopped the money he had offered in Trevan's hand which had long been consumed with sweat. But he didn't question it. He looked back to his friends, showing off the bottle of liquor and they gaped in awe.

They shared their gratitude to Trevan while one of them turned his back to him. Trevan's smile faded as he watched the boy walk slowly out of sight. From the corner of his eye, he picked up on Lake Middle School from the back of the boy's shirt.

Suddenly all the praise Trevan was receiving meant nothing as he gaped at the kids walking away from him with horror.