THIEF [S.M.]

twelve

It's been a few days since I last saw her. I've been avoiding her. Maybe she's been avoiding me, I don't know. I'm spending a lot more time outside of my home. I went to the library yesterday and talked with Mrs. Acker for a few minutes after picking up a new book. She told me that Venus was in the back if I wanted to see her, but I denied the offer, as painful as it was to do so.

I miss her, which I know is ridiculous because I could easily go knock on her door right now and see her, but it's too hard. I'm still embarrassed. I told her I love her. I deserve a little more time to process.

Today is Sunday. I couldn't sleep last night, I was too busy contemplating whether I should steal her laundry or not.

"Grow a pair," my dad would say. I hate that man and his sexist remarks. He would always tell me to "Be a man!" or "Real men don't cry." followed by a firm smack on the head.

I received verbal abuse from both sides. My mom would rarely ever be gentle with me and my frangible feelings. Sometimes she would hug me, or run her long acrylic fingernails down my back as I would cry. It was either because of bullies at school, premature girl problems, dad's cruelty, or even her own. I maybe only ever hugged her ten times in my entire life. Now I've completely cut her off, as well as my asshole dad. Nobody's been here to love me, and nobody's been good enough for me to love.

Honestly, I just want to love and be loved.

But that's besides the point.

After six hours of thinking it through, I decided I might as well. This is my chance to go back to the way things were.

At 9:15 AM I was in the laundry room. Languid muscles seemed to move before my brain could. Tired. I'll get through it. I have to fix this deafening silence between us. I can't take it anymore.

I rolled up my sleeves. Clumsy hands fumbled through wet clothes. I closed my eyes, randomly plucking out a clothing item. My eyelids raised to quite a surprise.

Dark grey cloth boxers came all too familiar to me.

Boxers? As in, boys underwear? Boxers?

Automatically I double checked to see if I was rummaging through the right laundry. Sure enough, every other article belonged to Venus. So where the hell did these boxers come from?

Then the anger kicked in. Adrenaline rush. Heartbeat jackhammering in my ears. Maybe it was the sound of it breaking.

-

Dark circles hollowed the space beneath my eyes. Bloodshot. A half-full bottle of Bourbon between my fingers, the alcohol burning as it sailed down my throat. My eyes were caught on the sight of my newfound garbage, sitting, folded sloppily on my coffee table, still wet, wrinkled.

I was so close. Close to what I've wanted. Her. Now there's a thousand miles between us and I'm crumbling under the weight. How could this change so suddenly? How could everything just fall apart? After everything I've built, constructing what could've been a perfect relationship, it's all crashed and burned and all that's left is a pile of ash. What can I build out of ash? This hurts. It hurts like hell and I don't know what to do about it.

From outside, I could hear the faint footsteps of Venus' black boots. Discomfort settled in the pit of my stomach as I rose from my seat. I slipped a sweatshirt over my head before mustering up the fortitude to discuss this matter.

"Venus," I croaked, my voice scratchy and unclear. I stepped out into the dim lit hallway.

She jumped at the sound of my voice, swiveling around quickly, her hair whipping around her face.

"Oh. Hi Shawn," she said, a forceful smile on her face. Ouch.

I pinched the clothing between two fingers, being sure not to touch too much of the item.

"What's this?" I asked, lifting the pair of underwear. Her facial expression quickly changed as her lips separated, frustration drawing across her face as she lunged forward, snatching the thing from my hand and pressing it to her chest.

"Jesus, Shawn! Can't I have a little privacy?!" She scolded loudly, though she wasn't yelling.

"I just want to know what that's all about." I replied. I was being gentle, I wasn't going to shout at her. I'm a big guy, it might get scary when I raise my voice. I don't know, I don't lose my temper enough to know. Anyway, she's too delicate in my eyes.

She groaned. "As I was trying to tell you the other night, Shawn, I met somebody in Nevada." her voice lowered, returning to its soft, sweet tone,"As it turns out, he lives here as well and he was there on business. We went on a couple of dates and... I really like him. He's... Well I like him, that's all that's important. So I can't... . I mean, I like you, I do, but I know that you have feelings for me and I just--I can't handle it."

She's dating. I expected this, although it's still a punch in the gut. Of course it took someone more courageous and intrepid than I to sweep her off her feet. Someone better than me. Oh, but knowing that I am responsible for sending her to Nevada, for her stumbling upon him, for her intertwining her soul with his, kills me.

My voice came out as merely a whisper,"So you're sleeping with him?" I asked, though I didn't actually care for an answer. I already knew. All that mattered to me was that she was loving someone that wasn't me.

"Y--Shawn, I don't think that's any of your business!" She was frazzled. I did this to her.

I took a step forward, staring deep into her shimmery golden eyes. I took a deep breath before pouring my heart out of my mouth,"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't of said what I did the other day. It was out of line, neither of us were prepared for that but I can't say it's not the truth. I do feel that way towards you. And it's real. And it's vigorous. So you can avoid me all you want, but it's not going to change the way I feel towards you. I can't change it."

Everything was quiet, still. Her eyes flicked back and forth from each of mine. For a moment, however, for the faintest second, there was a flash of something there. Something deep, maybe even intimate. I'm not quite sure what it was, but I know for a fact that it was there.

"I can't," She broke eye contact as she turned away, her shoulders dropping from their uncomfortable posture. "I can't."

Who would've thought that two simple words could pulverize your whole world?

I almost reached out, almost touched her, almost felt her warmth, but rather, I spoke. "What's his name?"

She hesitated. Slowly, she looked back towards me. The orange glow of the setting sun reflected on her face as she opened her mouth, quietly speaking.

"Arlo. Arlo Nixon."