Special Friend

Chapter Nineteen

Grace: I had never seen Oakland drunk, ever. Even as teenagers, between the two of us, I was the one getting intro trouble the most, stealing from my parents or his parents alcohol cabinet. He always refused to drink with me, which kept me from being intoxicated. Seeing him in a drunk stumble in that parking lot, it did something to me. I felt something shift between us. I was filled with concern up until I knew he was safe in bed. Then, I was filled with rage.
I placed my phone on the kitchen counter and grabbed a cup from the cabinet, filling it with water from the fridge. Oakland was enough work as it is, but dealing him under the influence is an entirely different story.
"Grace?" A voice echoed throughout the house, coming from the guest room.
I turn around to find Arlene peaking from around the corner, slowly making her way into the dining room/kitchen area. "Arlene? What're you doing up?" I question her. She complained about having a headache earlier, probably from the drinking, and I suggested she go to bed. She shouldn't be awake.
"What am I doing up? What are you doing up? It's almost 1 in the morning Grace."
"I went out," I respond.
"Where? Where could you have possibly gone at this hour?" She's now made her way to the dining room table, pulling out a chair and placing herself on it, crossing her arms. This is a symbol, meaning she doesn't intend to let up until she gets answers.
"The bar, Arlene. Where you left Oakland."
She looks at me, her mouth now agape. "Why the hell would you go there?"
"I called him after you got home. He was drunk out of his mind and he got in his truck! He was going to try to drive home." I try to keep my voice even and calm, but it raises an octave or so. I'm irritated with her, and Adler, for leaving him there by himself, and I'm irritated with him for thinking he could drive under the influence.
"We tried to get him to leave with his, he insisted on staying a bit longer," Arlene tries to plead her case. She can tell I'm upset with her and she knows I'm right to be so.
I scoff. "So you leave him? You didn't even bother to take his keys!"
"We didn't think he'd be stupid enough to drive."
"Yeah, well, he is." I take a breathe to calm myself. "You're lucky the bartender took his keys, otherwise this would be a completely different conversation we'd be having." My head is in my hands, my fingers rubbing my temples in irritation.
Arlene is quiet. The house is quiet. Not another word is said for a good while. Suddenly, she speaks up again. "Where are your parents?"
I sigh. Taking another sip of my water. "They left for Florida a few hours ago."
She takes a moment before nodding her head. "Oh yeah, I remember them telling us they would be out of town for a few weeks."
Silence falls between us again. We stare each other, her eyes pleading me to forgive her, mine stubborn with anger.
"Is he okay?"
I purse my lips into a thin line. "He's fine."
She nods, fidgeting with her hands. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You look irritated."
I narrow my eyes at crossing my arms. "Do I? Huh, I wonder why."
She winces slightly at my tone. "I'm really sorry."
I sigh. "I know you are." As much I love Arlene, sometimes she makes it too easy to get upset with her. However, it's extremely difficult to stay mad at her. "Go back to bed, it's late. You're going to need all the rest you can get. You're going to have one nasty hangover in the morning."
She giggles a little. "Okay, goodnight. You should get some sleep too, you deserve to lay in your bed after tonight."
"Oh, about that," I brace for impact, taking a small step away from her. "Oakland's in my bed."
Her mouth drops and she springs up from her seat. "What?!"
"Shhh, you'll wake him up."
"Yeah right. You were yelling minutes ago, if anything, he's already up."
I open my mouth to reply, but I'm interrupted by someone. "Who's already up?" The voice floats down from the stairs. Arlene and I both freeze, looking up to the upper loft to find Oakland, rubbing his eyes with one hand while the other holds him steady against the railing.
Immediately, Arlene retreats back to the guest room. "Bye!"
I curse her in my head for leaving me alone with him. Oakland makes his way downstairs, taking in his surroundings.
"This isn't my house," he mumbles.
"It's mine."
His eyes finally find mine. They widen once he realizes were he is and what he's done. "Oh god. That was your bed, wasn't it?"
I nod. "You should go back to sleep, you're still drunk."
"That is quite possible, but I should go home."
He stumbles, trying to get to the front door, almost falling against the kitchen table. I help prop him up.
"It's fine Oakland, just stay here tonight. My parents are gone, I can sleep in their bed."
He nods in agreement, "okay." I help him up the stairs and back into my room and on to my bed. He readjusts himself several times before finding a position that works for him. He's laying on his side, one arm outstretched across the bed, the other laying next to his body. I pull up the blanket to his waist. I remember that he gets hot when he sleeps, so it's best to leave it off entirely, but I don't want him to get cold. I take a second to make sure he's comfortable. I open my mouth to ask, but I notice his eyes are closed and his breaths are long and slow. He's asleep.
I brush a strand of hair out of his face, my hand finding itself on the side of his face. I smile to myself. Oakland wad my everything in high school. He was my rock. I knew him and he knew me. But now, after five years, we know nothing of each other. For the first time in the two weeks I've been back home, I feel like we're in high school all over again. It's true, he kept me out of trouble involving alcohol, however, I kept him out of trouble involving everything else. When he was sick, he wouldn't let anyone see him, except for me. When he didn't want anyone near or with him, he wanted me there. I spent countless nights in the past, watching him sleep, counting his breathes, making sure he was comfortable, every time he got in trouble. Seeing him sleeping so peacefully now, it brings back all the little things from our time in high school.
I pull myself out of my deep thought and my hand away from him. Just as I turn to leave, he grabs onto my wrist. I look back at him. He's still somewhat asleep.
"Don't go," he whispers. "Stay."
"I," I try to rebuttal, but I know he'll beg me more. "Only for a little longer."
He groans, tiredness washing over him. "Will you wait?"
"For what?" I ask.
"For me," he pauses and then starts again. "To fall asleep." His words trail off at the end. His hand has let go of my wrist and fallen limp on the edge of the bed.
I sit down next to him. "Yes, I'll wait."
"Thank you," his voice is barely heard. Seconds later, he's out cold.
"I'll wait for you until the world comes to an end. And even then, I'd wait for you in the afterlife," my voice is hushed. I don't think he's heard me as he doesn't react. I lean down and place a light kiss on his cheek. Without realizing, I fall asleep next to him, finding comfort in his arms as they wrap around me, as his warmth brings me peace.