Deal With It By: Audrey B. Holley

Chapter 8

Debra motions for me to come to her, so I do. Her cracked lips are unappealing to observe, so I keep all my focus on her eyes, which sag from lack of sleep. When she speaks, her mouth wreaks of morning breath. I suppose she never brushed.

"I need you to take care of this table."

I nod in understanding. She then walks away, coughing.

"I will be your server for today. How may I help you?" A father with a young, squirming child tells me his order, and then I walk away to fill up their beverages. 

Right on time for his shift, Benjie swings open the door, and enters the restaurant. Slipping off his thin jacket, he nods at me without a smile. He seems to be struck by a mood. I see Mr. Werton motion for him to come and retrieve his uniform.

After he is dressed, the boss hollers for Tom, another coworker of mine. Tom is instructed to show Benjie how it's all done.

Throughout the afternoon, I see the two boys assisting customers, and whipping tables. In between the moments of these many busy hours, Benjie offers a smile to me; his mood is obviously swept away.

Tom, unlike Debra, is one of the youngest members, besides myself. He is a sixteen year old scrawny boy with braces that are far too great in size for his mouth; his shinny moist lips never close.

When it's down to closing hours, I am the one to clock out, which rarely happens. I do a last minute check up on the place, making sure all lights are shut off, everything is cleaned, put away, and such. I then lock the doors before walking out into the icey night. With each exhale, my breath is visible like smoke.

And now I sit in my car...

Thinking...

Deep pain comes up like vomit, and loud howls sound from my throat. My cries babble uncontrollably. It all twists inside me and I just want to escape it, the twinges that curl within and feel as if they are ready to beat me senseless. A punch of grief swells my face and drowns me in tears.

I slide my specs from my face, and toss them to the passenger seat.

All the times spent, all the memories made, all the emotions I'm stuck to deal with and cope with without him, my best friend, my buddy, my pal... Henry.

"God!" I cry out. "Please help me," I whimper my next words. "It hurts so bad." I press my forehead to the steering wheel, and close my eyes.

I am then startled by my phone going off.

It's David, so I must answer.

"Hello?" I manage.

"Just calling to check up on you. Tonight dad wants to eat as a family so...are you almost home?"

I clear my throat, and maintain some control, and then I reply with, "Yeah, I'm on my way now." 

But my brother knows me too well. 

"Are you OK? Have you been crying?" I hear the genuine concern in his voice.

"I'll talk to you when I get home. Don't worry about me, you hear?"

Click.

I toss the cellular device into the passenger seat, reach for my glasses, and then start the vehicle.

* * * * *

During the meal, I pretend as if I am fine, but that ache, that unbearable ache...

After excusing myself from the table, I drag my feet up the stairs, and into my room.

Now here I am, sitting cross legged on my bed in my pajamas. There's a soft knock at my door.

"Come in."

David lets himself in, and closes the door behind him soundlessly.

First question he asks is, "How are you feeling?"

I lean back against my pillow, and he makes himself comfortable at the foot of my bed.

"I feel dejected."

"Simpler please."

"Sorry," I apologize. "Sad, depressed in a way...that's what I mean."

"Is it because..."

I already know what he's going to say.

"Yes, it's because of that."

"I miss him too. I may not of been as close to him as you was, but he was a good kid."

I sigh, and then silence.

"Good night Keelie." When he takes a standing, I peer at his face, and glimpse a tear roll off his jaw.

I hear him leave, and then I lay awake in my bed for an hour or two. When the time hits 9:30p.m, I decide to change into some regular clothes and flee out my window. I zip up my coat, and shove my musical device into my pocket.

Within moments I find myself in deep focus. I can feel my heart thrashing, and the blaring music seems to block out the hearing of my rapid breathing.

I am running...

Running...

Running...

And I won't stop until my body is beyond its limits, and exhaustion has swallowed me whole. This is what I do when I need to get away. What is it I'm running from? In this instant I understand what Benjie is getting away from. We are getting away from our pain the only way we know how.

As if God knows who to bring forth in order for me to relieve my distress, I hear a motorcycle over the singing melodies.

"What are you doing out here on a cold night like this?" Benjie asks.

"Just needed to get away." I explain in heavy breaths, and take out my ear buds.

"Away from what?" A smile is hinted somewhere within his melodious voice.

"You sure ask a lot of questions." I joke.

"Wanna go somewhere?" He asks.

"Where is there to go?" I then meet his eyes, and the way the moon light hits the side of his face seems to penetrate me.

"Just trust me."

He hands me a helmet, and at that I swing a leg over the seat, bind my arms around his body, and press my cold palms to his chest.

Then the world seems to pass by, as if it's spinning all around us...and it's dizzying.