Bridge of Promises

Chapter Two: Normal

"Teach me how to drive," I insisted, poking Cain's shoulder.

"No way. You need a learner's permit," Cain said firmly, pushing aside my finger and tapping my nose lightly with his.

We sat on the bed of his truck, staring up at the stars and listening to the waves crash against the rocky cliff below us. A ratty green blanket lay on our laps, worn from all the times we'd sat out here to talk.

"Learner's permit? What's that?" I asked, feigning ignorance. Cain rolled his eyes and wordlessly passed me a soda can.

I opened up the can and took a gulp, immediately regretting my decision. I spat out the drink, my throat burning. "Jesus, Cain! What the hell is this?!" I managed to choke out.

"Beer," Cain mumbled.

"Tastes like crap," I muttered under my breath. "Why'd you bring it?"

Cain shrugged. "I wanna know what it's like to get drunk."

"We're seventeen, Cain. We can get drunk in four more years. Maybe then our taste buds will develop into ones that can like this shit people call beer."

I poured the contents over the side of the truck but set the can beside me. I could hear my mom nagging me to put it in the recycling bag at home so we could sell it.

Typical Filipino upbringing, I think. Practicality and penny-pinching go hand-in-hand.

"Four years is a long time," Cain said softly.

"That's about the length of our high school career," I said.

Cain nodded, opening up his can of beer. I could tell he wanted to say something. He didn't go to Allison's burial, nor did he go to talk to Allison's parents.

I didn't go either.

I should've felt guilt. I should've felt sorrow. I should've felt every ugly feeling in the world connected to losing those you love and care about.

But I didn't.

I didn't feel those things because Cain was feeling those things and it wouldn't help either of us if we both felt those ugly feelings.

I waited for him to speak as he drank his beer, wincing every single time.

It tastes like shit, Cain. Stop drinking it. It hurts to drink it, so stop drinking it. Don't be an idiot.

In the end, he drank every single painful drop. 

We sat on the bed of his truck until sunrise, the words we didn't say hanging in the air.

~•~•~

"My brother's coming back home from college," Cain reported to me over the phone.

"Seth or Abel?"

"Abel."

"Ah." I fidgeted with a piece of my hair. "Wonder what stories Mr. Wonderful is gonna tell over dinner."

"A lot of things, I'm sure." Cain sounded almost bitter, almost sad.

Abel was full of success stories.

He was gifted. He went to his dream college. He was top of his class and wasn't bad with the ladies.

Not that he liked ladies, anyway. Gentlemen were his preference and he managed to snag a boyfriend as perfect as he was.

"Should I bring over some cookies from my dad's bakery?" I asked.

"No. If he sees you, he's gonna poke me in the side and ask me when I'm going to marry you. It's getting old," Cain replied dryly.

"Is he ever going to give that up?"

"Not until we get married. But the next joke will probably be about kids. I don't need that."

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew. Good luck, then."

"I'm Catholic. I don't believe in luck."

"We go to the same church, you egg. I know we don't."