SLEEPING WITH A FRIEND

I took him for granted, I never even realized how bad I needed him until he left.
Now it's in 2 in the morning, when the screaming is the loudest, and there's glass crashing, and begging, and crying, and pleading, and-and I have nowhere to go.

Wait it out, that's what I keep saying to myself. My legs are tucked into my arms and pressed against my chest as I rock tediously on my bed. The springs squeak beneath me, sooner or later I'm going to drive myself crazy.

I stop and kick my feet down so that their on the cold wood floors. For a second I image there's a boogie man beneath my bed, so often my little brother complains about one and though I always tell him it's just a tale, I wish with all my might it wasn't. I wished that mythical man would stick his shriveled, long clawed, hands out from beneath my bed and grab my ankles, pulling me to somewhere-anywhere but here.

I stand up, smooth out my jeans, drawing in a deep breath before cracking my door open. I tip toe across the hall to Dj's room, he was asleep in his bed. How he manages that, I'll never know.

I climb into bed beside him, his 7 year old body sprawled across the mattress didn't make it easy for me either.
Just when I'm beneath the covers his hoarse voice makes me jump.

"Frankie, When's Kent coming back?"

A hard gulp rolls down my throat, "I-I don't know Deej. Go back to sleep." I whisper, without so much as a second thought he does.

I turn my back towards him, curled up on the edge of his twin bed, listening- listening to the cries, and the screams, and the hollering. Hatred boils inside of me when I think of Kent now. He left us with this. He left us without so much as a goodbye.

-

Every Friday night around 2 in the morning, he would sneak my little brother and I into his room through his window.

He lived right next door in a perfect house right next to our seemingly perfect house- the only difference was Kent's was actually perfect.

The lights would be out entirely, everyone inside would be asleep, except him. He stopped sleeping on Fridays at 2 in the morning, always waiting for me to knock on his window.

I'd have Dj piggied up on my back, he was sleep, as he always was at this time. But I, just like Kent, had learned to stop sleeping on these days.

I could never sleep as long as I was home. Hence the fact Kent opened his to us.

I knock on his window only once and I can see him rushing over through the darkness, shirtless, blonde hair a mess on his head, and eyes fruitful as He opens up the window.

I can already feel the welcoming heat of his room. "Hey," he says

I struggle to take Dj off my back and hand him up to Kent who holds him with ease.

Dj blinks open his eyes, a sleepy haze settled on his face, "Hi Kent," he manages through a yawn

Kent smiled, sets him down on his feet and tells him to go lay down. Dj's proclaimed spot was right in the middle of Kent's bed, sleeping anywhere else was just unacceptable to him or he'd wake up in the middle of the night screaming and kicking and threatening to wake up Kent's parents.

I latch on to the ledge of the window seal, digging my shoes into the side of Kent's house and pulling myself up and through the window in one fast motion. Kent holds his hand out for me to take though, helping me in.

He never asked me what was going on over there, never asked why I didn't tell someone, or why I didn't call the cops. He always just looked at me for a second, pulled my head into his chest, and hugged me tight until I'd pull away.

I never said thank you either, in my defense he never asked for it but in the greater scheme of things why should anyone ever have to ask for a thank you, shouldn't those words come from courtesy?

I wasn't courteous at all.

Kent climbed into bed without another word. He laid on his back, hands behind his head while he stared up at the ceiling.

I climbed into bed next, my back turned towards him and my brother. My eyes wonder the trinkets on his night stand, I had become so familiar with the blue glass lamp, the digital clock, and the picture of him and Sabrina sitting there.

I think Sabrina would flip shit if she knew I was in her boyfriends bed, I think she would actually attempt murder, she was in love with Kent. Just like everyone else.

He had this charm about him, it was in his smile, and his voice, and the way he combed his hair back with his fingers. He liked pizza and watching football on Sundays with his dad, he helped his mom carry groceries in and went to his little sisters violin recitals, Kent had to of been the most normal and only good guy at that, within a miles radius of this place.

-

Now it's Friday, 2:19  in the morning and Kent's not home and he won't be home for another month and a half.
But I can't take this, I can't stand to bare another month and a half of this.