No More No More

Runaway (The Best Balls)

When Steven got back from dropping off Brad, he joined us on the couch.  Because everyone else already had a seat, Steven either had to sit on the floor or sit behind me on the back of the couch so that my head would be in his lap...ish.  Naturally, he opted for the latter.  Soon enough though, he was bored and whipped out a card.

     "Joe where's the stuff?" he said in a hurry.

     "On the table," Joe replied flatly, refusing to look at us.

     "Nuh-uh," Steven whined.  "Tom? Joey?"  Both shook their heads.  "Annie?"

     "Ummm..." I actually don't know where the cocaine went... I don't think we did all of it last night.  I look at Joe in confusion.

     Steven turns back to Joe.  "Joe?  Do you know where the coke is?"

    "I told you it's on the fuckin' table," Joe snapped.  I bumped his knee with mine.  We were no longer what some might call 'cuddling,' we were just sitting very close to each other, separated only by Steven's left leg.  Joe glowers at the TV screen.

     "Well, I don't see it on there, do you?" Steven demands.  "You were the one that was here last by yourself!"

     "Annie was here too!" Joe says, finally staring at Steven.  Joe wipes his nose self-consciously.

     I hold up my hands.  "Don't bring me into this."

    Joe rolls his eyes with a snort.  "Please, you're every bit as guilty as I am," he says harshly.

    I feel my eyes grow wide, catching the meaning behind his words.  His thoughts were no longer on the coke.

     Steven wipes his hands down his face in exasperation.  "Did you guys do the fuckin' coke or not?" he says.

     I need to get out of here before I break.  I can't take lying to people–especially people I care about.  I stand up quickly.  "Yeah Steven," I snap, "we did the fuckin' coke."  At that, I walk hastily out of the apartment and make my way blindly to the lobby.  I don't hear anyone following me which is great.  I don't think I can handle seeing either of their faces.  I rarely curse.  It's never something I liked to do.  I've been living with four guys for the last few months and it's kind of rubbed off on me...sorry.

     In the lobby, I collapse on one of the benches, burying my face in my hands.  Again I have to ask: why me?  I mean, it was a rare occasion when one guy wanted me.  Now I've got two on my back.  Joe knows; Steven doesn't and I feel absolutely horrible.  What's happened to me?  I've dropped out of college, become a drug addict, and I'm cheating on my boyfriend with my best friend and I'm just a mess!  I've been living in the world of musicians for so long now that I think I've lost touch with all that's real.  Maybe I just need a break...

     "Annie," someone says after a long while.  I was half asleep, curled on the disgusting bench with my head resting on my arm.  I didn't acknowledge the voice and kept my eyes closed.  Maybe he'll go away.  "Annie," he says again.  I'm curious as to who it is...not enough to engage in a conversation though.  "I know you're not asleep, but..."  Whoever it is drops a blanket on me.  I hear his footsteps fade away.  When I'm sure he's not facing me anymore, I peek through my eyelashes. Tom.  Not Steven or Joe.  Huh.

-- 

I opened my eyes to a dim light shining through the blinds on the window. I was no longer in the lobby.  I was back in Steven's bed.  He must've come get me.  He looked peaceful sprawled out on his back.  I sneak quietly out of the room, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders.  No one else is awake yet.  Tom actually got to sleep in his bed last night since I spent half the night downstairs.  I need to get out of here.  I could always go into work early... I have no clue what time it is.

     I return to the room, grabbing two pairs of jeans and two shirts.  I lightly kiss Steven's nose before I leave.  I still have on my clothes from yesterday... I don't care.  I shove my clothes in a bag then make my way to work.  After I made some sales and my shift was over, I called a cab.  I don't particularly want to go back to the apartment.  I don't know what happened after I left last night.

    I pull open the door when, "Annie?!"  I release the handle, watching Steven run toward me.  He swoops me into a huge hug, spinning me around.  "What the fuck are you doing?" he asks, setting me down and holding my shoulders.

     "Uh..."  I try to think of something, but I get lost in his worried eyes.  "I dunno," I say stupidly.

    "Are you leaving?" he asks, noticing my bag of clothes and looking hurt.  I purse my lips and shake my head.  The cabby beeps the horn.  "Are you coming home?"

     I take his hand in mine after a long moment of silence and say, "Yes."  The cabby calls me few choice profanities before speeding away to pick up the next person.  Steven starts to yell back, but I cut him off.   A New Yorker with Italian blood...jeesh.

     Steven walks home with me, hand in hand.  I can't help but feel guilty.  "Where'd you go?" he asked me with a face full of worry, angst, bewilderment, and exasperation.  It made me feel even worse.

     Steven opened the door to the apartment and a delicious smell wafted out.  I was taken by surprise; we don't ever cook.  "I fell asleep on a bench in the lobby," I say, following him through the doorway.  He should've known this... He carried me upstairs, right?  "And then this morning I went to work."

     "Oh," is all he says at first.  We join Tom in the kitchen, who was slaving over the stove.  What a strange sight.  I hopped up on the counter, sitting on my hands and swinging my feet.  Steven leaned next to me, opposite Tom.  "You slept there all night?"

     I laugh.  "No, I woke up in bed this morning."

     "Oh," he says again.

   "You're welcome for the blanket, by the way," Tom says, not looking up from whatever he was doing.

     Steven looks troubled.  "Well, where were you gonna go?  After work, I mean."

     I didn't actually have an answer for that one.  I was probably going to go home for a few nights, to catch a break from...everything.  "Um, I'm not sure..." I say honestly.  I don't know how much longer I can bear the pain on his face.  I attempt to reassure him.  "But I didn't go anywhere," I say hurriedly, "I came back.  No worries?"

     Steven sighs.  "I guess so."

    I wonder who brought me upstairs.  Steven was obviously worried since I left last night, because he wasn't the one who brought me upstairs.  He hadn't seen me in nearly twenty-four hours.  It wasn't Tom, because he only said you're welcome for the blanket.  It was either Joey or Joe.  I have a pretty good idea of who it was, but I don't plan on speaking to that person.

    Tom dumps out five plates of spaghetti and gives them to us in the living room.  Joe is absentmindedly playing his guitar (which is very out of tune and driving me crazy), watching the TV go in and out of focus, smoking a joint, and holding a beer between his knees, taking up the whole couch.  And he doesn't move either.  Joey and Tom sit on the armrests of the couch, and Steven and I squeeze into the chair.

     Man, even though it was an immature joke, Steven wasn't kidding: Tom makes the best balls.