"COME ON, ADALIA," FORD urges, nudging her slightly. "I won't tell anyone."
She glances at him for a moment, spotless teeth gnawing on a swollen lip. "It was nothing, Ford. A lapse of judgment. Seriously, you should go home; it's getting late."
"Nine p.m. has never stopped you before," he replies before he can stop himself. He can't help it. Ford has always been drawn to disaster, to destruction that could only be attributed to an even more cruel God. He needs to open her up by the seams and figure out how a person could be so vicious and so vulnerable all at once.
But Adalia only spares him a cursory glance before getting to her feet. "I'm not in the mood for talking, Ford."
"Adalia—"
"Ford, enough, we'll talk later, okay?" Her eyes narrow, and he concedes, kicking a few pebbles on his way to his car.
As he drives home, he thinks about the first time he met Adalia. He thinks of girls with skirts four sizes too small, of promises of abstinence and dirty condoms. He thinks of Elliot's laugh riding the wind as he speeds to some senior's party and smudged lipstick the color of wine. He thinks of a son's grief and the subsequent shots of vodka that follow. He thinks of all this, and his head aches—almost a warning.
As he pulls into his driveway, his sister is sitting out on the front porch—cigarette in hand. His headlights drown her out
"I'm trying to quit," she says without prompt. "Four fucking years, you know?"
"Yeah," he replies and wonders how he could've let Adalia Barco overshadow his own father's death. But then again, he'd never been great at prioritizing. "Is mom okay?"
Juliet nods. "Harold flew back to see her. Cut his meeting short and everything, so she's pretty good." Her words, though seemingly flippant, strike a nerve with Ford. When Harold and his crooked chin, jarring nose, and salt and pepper hair sauntered into Ford's life nine-and-a-half months after his father died, he wanted nothing to do with him.
Hell, even now Ford might not want anything to do with Harold. Harold, the friend. Harold, I-promise-I'm-not-trying-to-replace-your-newly-deceased-father. Harold, I-married-your-mother-a-year-and-eleven-months-after-your-father-died.
In Harold's defense, he respects Ford's wishes. When his 14-year-old self, in a hormone-fueled outburst, told Harold to quit with the friendly gestures and small found this and it reminded me of 's, he obliged. To this day, Harold is still distant, and maybe, that bothers Ford a bit more than he'd like to admit.
"He's not that bad, you know. He stayed at the airport for four hours to wait for my flight, so I wouldn't have to take a taxi even though his was an international. If you gave him a chance—"
"Not doing it, Jules," he replies tersely, shoving his way inside.
His mother's draped over the dining room table, a book of miscellaneous Greek tragedies that Ford gifted her to her right, and Harold in a stuffy, two-sizes-too-small turtleneck to her left. They look content—happy even—together, like the catalog photo for a good marriage, and something burns in the back of Ford's throat.
Harold catches Ford's gaze before Ford can avert his eyes and shoots him a soft smile, tugging the left side of his lips upward. Ford tries to mimic the gesture but fails, shaking his head as he trudges up the stairs. He briefly wonders if things will always be this way, if he and Harold will always tip-toe around one another, act as though they're just two strangers under the same roof.
He plops onto his bed as soon as he reaches his room, arms sprawled too far out in front of him and shuts his eyes. He's been feeling so tired lately, so defeated, and he doesn't even know why.
Scratch that, maybe he does. He's missing time—time, time, time. It's ticking away, and here he is, lying face first on his bed because he can't stand that his mother and Juliet have moved on when he hasn't. God, he's an idiot.
"Ford?" Harold's at his open door, knocking on the frame with two knuckles. "We saved you a plate. I'll just put it here, okay?"
Ford glances at him, trying to mask his apprehension with some kind of apathy. "Yeah." He tilts his head slightly. "Thanks."
Harold hovers in the doorway for a bit, scratching the back of his neck. "You know—have a good night, Ford."
"You too," he replies a moment too late.
>>>
"SO," THE WORD LINGERS on Elliot's tongue as he leans against Ford's locker. "'Dalia seemed awfully happy bouncing into first period today. You two kissed and made up, huh?"
Ford nods. "It was all you, El. Remind me to go to you for advice more often."
Elliot laughs, a deep, hearty sound. "Remember my good advice the next time you say my ideas suck, Ford."
For a moment, Ford forgets the world around him. That's the effect Elliot has on people. He's loud, boisterous, and commands your attention. Eyes, ears, hearts have a way of finding themselves in Elliot's direct vicinity, and he loves it. He'll never tell a soul (except Ford when he's had five shots too many), but Elliot needs this.
He needs the constant validation. He needs all these eyes—prying, prodding, provoking—so he'll never be alone. Elliot fears himself most of all, and perhaps, that's why Ford stays with him. They provide one another with fiction and become glorified, gorgeous boys instead of being the people they are.
"But seriously, El." Ford sobers up and gazes at his best friend. "Thank you."
"Anytime," he replies with a laugh and two-finger salute.
As Ford walks to his history class, he runs into Adalia and forgets to tense up as she molds herself to his side.
"Do you want to go on a double date, Ford? You, me, my cousin, and his date? You don't have to say yes, but if you do," she laughs, and it's only slightly insulting.
"Yeah, I'll go." He isn't sure what compels him to agree, but Adalia brightens entirely, so he tightens his grip on her.
>>>
A/N: Surprise!!!! I've actually been working on this for a while, but I was waiting to finish my college apps before updating. I will try to update again within a few days :)
Also, I HAVE A BRAND NEW STORY OUT! It's entitled "The Inconsequences of Being", and it's one of the works I've been most proud of and excited to write. You can find it on my profile or in the external link :)
have a happy & safe christmas and new years, everyone :')
