Life At Its Finest (Brother's Bestfriend)

Surprise

I was almost sweating with nervousness. Maybe he wasn't even there.

I drove into the apartment complex, his old filthy truck was there and that only made my butterflies quicken.

Probably sitting in my truck for the longest time I got out and headed up the stairs to apartment 802.

At the step I was about to turn around, but I knocked before I could. And I waited for what seemed like forever when a man answered. I was taken aback by how familiar he looked. He was, no doubt, Conrad's father. He looked less taken care of, his hair oily, his teeth tainted yellow and he smelled strongly of cigarettes

"Yes?" He asked patiently, seeming beaten down and gentle.

"Is Conrad here?" I asked.

The man was quiet for a minute, almost in deep shock. "He's in his room, it's the door at the very back." He gave me a suspicious look, but then he was gone. He walked right passed me down the stairs and I watched as he drove off.

His father just left me at his house.

Going in I wish I hadn't done this, it was the messiest little place I've ever seen. There were clothes thrown on the ground, empty food containers, pizza boxes, beer bottles and beer cans, ashes and the butts of blunts lying on the coffee table. They had one tiny couch, but I doubted anyone could even lay on it, it was almost black and the entire place smelled of cigarettes.

The door at the very back, he said. I walked through the tiny hallway and took a peek in every other room, just in case. One right beside the room he was in was already opened and I found something that caught my eye.

It was a 16x20 canvas that sat at a desk on top of other messy papers. It looked to be an office. It had to be Conrad's because inside there were just so many historic things, books, trinkets, and all his papers that made up the money he needed for his work.

But on the desk was my painting. The one I did of him, and I felt embarrassed to know he knew this entire time. He had it and he knew. He had it to mock me, I thought, but on his desk was also a badly wrapped gift with my name on it. An uncontrolled smile came to me, a note that said "To make your life easier, and I know you need it. I don't want you to hurt yourself in the future."

I put in my bag and stood at his door. Should I knock? Or should I just walk in? I decided to knock, but no one answered. So I opened the door and it was so dark in there.

It was clean. Spotless, compared to the rest of the apartment. In the center wall there was Conrad. Lying on his bed on his back, smoking. "Dad, I'm fine, go away." His deep voice grumbled and I found myself shiver. It's been so long since I heard him. I was suddenly so scared to be near him again. It was different now. It was like I've locked myself in a cage with a tiger.

I stared at him and took him in. His eyes were closed and his arm was out, holding onto the cigarette. On his wrist was a familiar little blue leather bracelet. The one I gave him. "Conrad?" I finally said, but it came out of my mouth before I thought about it. He was wearing the gift I gave him, he kept it.

He shot up quickly in his bed and looked at me. His scruffy neglected face unshaven and his hair messy and distressed. "Macy?" I couldn't read his voice. I forgot I didn't know how to, and that only blinded me more. "What are you doing here?" His voice turned angry and demanding. He set his cigarette on the tray at his nightstand and watched me like I watched him.

What was I supposed to say now? "I came to see you, obviously." I told him.

"Why," It came out at a sneer, but I pushed his bitterness away and focuses on the signs. He kept my gift. He stole my painting. He carried me up the stairs. He called me beautiful, he took me to his work, he did so many things and I remember his sad smile. Before California he played with me and Cory.

I took a step towards him and he back away a step.

"Why not?" I said.

"I'm not fucking around, Macy. Why are you here," He spoke my name and I tried to keep steady. His voice fueled me, I remembered everything he made me feel when he spoke. I really missed him and being around him, he was everywhere now because I was in his room. If I'd ignore the smoke smell I smelled him. His room smelled just like him.

"Why are you freaking out?" I asked, taking another step towards him, and he backed away again.

"Because you're not supposed to be here," He shouted.

"Why not?"

"Stop! Answer my goddamn question."

"Why?"

"You can't do that, you don't answer a question with a question. What are you trying to do?" His voice was stern but wobbly. I kept walking toward him but he only backed up more.

It finally got to where he hit the wall and I saw a flash a fear hit his eyes. I put my purse on his bed and hid back all my nerves, and grabbed his face. His ragged breathing was all I heard in the dark, but his bright eyes glowed and stared back into mine.

I pushed his hair back, running my fingers through it. His breathing quickened and I knew this was affecting him. His nails were digging into the wall behind him. "Conrad?" I said quietly.

He found himself again and tried pushing my hands away. But I only slipped mine into his and he froze. "What do you want, what are you doing?" It was a quick question.

"I love you." I said it when our eyes were locked.

His hands squeezed mine and I found myself being shoved against the same spot Conrad was just at. "Shut up." he growled angrily.

I shook my head. "No, you shut up and listen to me." I pulled my hands out of his and pushed him away. He stood where he was and I stood in front of him. We were inches away.

"You think it's okay to come into my life and make me feel all these things and just leave? Well no, you can't because I won't let you."

"What makes you think I feel the same way?" He lowered his head to meet my eyes. But I knew what he was trying to do. "Did you not get the idea that I don't care about you in California?" Conrad's voice was low and evil, but I knew better.

I gave him a short laugh. "Nice try. You don't care about me? That must be why you gave me your Bigmac that one day you brought me lunch. Or when you cooked me breakfast and felt my face to see if I was hot, do you remember that? Or when we fell asleep in the living room, I cut my foot, do you remember what you did after that, Conrad?" He was cringing at every memory I threw at him.

"Shut up." He yelled.

"When you called me beautiful. Should I also remind you of that time when you picked me up from the Simpson's house and drove me home? You remember how you held me that night."

He had enough and his hand slammed over my mouth. "Macy, I hate you."

"Oh you hate me?" I laughed, pushing his hand off and mocking the way he said the same thing at California. "Is that why it was such a big deal that I suddenly started seeing Mason?"

"You slept with him! I know you did, Xavier told me," he shouted at me.

"And why should that bother you?"

He caught his mistake and tried covering it up quickly. "Quit tricking yourself into thinking I care."

"If you didn't care, why are you wearing the bracelet I got you?"

That shut him up. He back away a step, but realized his mistake as soon as he did. I had never seen Conrad so vulnerable and he was almost falling into my hands. He dropped his head and stared at the floor. The both of us were silent for a while until I grabbed his face once more. He closed his eyes tight, avoiding me.

"Open your eyes, Conrad." I told him. He kept them shut. "Open them." He wouldn't listen, so I took the risk in letting myself go.

When I stared at his lips I was gone, and I quickly pressed mine to his.