The Storms Of August

Chapter Twenty Seven: I'll Go Back To Black

We had a three hour layover in Los Angeles on the way back. Joe has an uncanny ability of being tardy and the other flight was too close to our landing for comfort. So we sat at the little table beside the sandwich chain in complete silence. It was so thick that the bustle around us was being drowned out by glares and glances between sides. Demi ate her lunch and stared at Joe as if glaring hard enough would give him the plague. Joe would only look at his meal, chewing slowly with downcast eyes like a dog. I looked at Demi as cold as the heat in my heart would let me for as long as I could. Sometimes I would touch my boyfriend's arm to piss her off. I know being bitter is petty, but I felt as though I deserved a free pass this time around.

 Nick was the worst. He stared at me. He wasn't angry or sad, but his eyes were uncomfortable anywhere else and islands built around us have led to disaster in the recent past. When my eyes slipped from Demi's intensity and landed on him, I felt Demi's words on my shoulder. He looked at me like I was the one to fix it but I couldn't. I was part of the problem. I was afraid to pick between truth and security because both felt so right but in the end were just so wrong. I swam in those brown eyes and thought of the ones that called me coward. I remembered the word of thieves as I juggled two hearts with only two halves to show for it. We were up too high by then; we would fall too hard. I couldn't let go like he wanted me to, or like I thought he did. I cared to much about all of them, and losing one would be losing them all. 

"You've hardly touched your sandwich," Nick noted quietly. He might as well have screamed it though. They were the first words since the first hour of our last time in the air and suddenly all attention was on me. Everything else dropped off the face of the earth and all of the most haunting shades of brown fell on me at once. I looked down. My turkey and cheese was somberly struggling against the grip I had on it. The slice of tomato was oozing and the lettuce was slipping through the sludge. I'd only taken two bites out of it, which was weird because I was sure I'd been eating it the whole time, but pictures don't lie so I put it down and tried to wait out the glances. It was no use. They were frozen over by the temperature around us. 

"What's wrong, love? You only had coffee this morning you must be hungry." Joe said concerned, rubbing my shoulder. My cheeks got hot. The longer he showed affection the more aware I was of the one I refused to look at. 

"Yeah, sunshine. You look absolutely famished," she said mockingly. There was an intent that was undoubtedly meant to hurt me, but the weakness in her manor caught more attention from me than the knife in my face. I slowly brought my eyes to glance at her through my brow. She was eating -or trying to- but she was not well. Her expired tone brought to light the worrisome paleness in her complexion. The hands that had my heart in such a tight grip were struggling to hold the sandwich to a point where she put it down and glanced at the silverware beside her green juice. She was mid transition between Jekyll and Hyde. There is no worse kind of lost than one being ten miles from any definite version of themselves. 

I thought it was bad to see her this way. It was worse when she looked at me. She knew I was watching. Those hypnotic swirls were cooling from the heat of Bora Bora, slowly but surely becoming more aware. Her eyes second guessed themselves when moving to look at me. I could see the pain and the shame she was in. For a moment I felt nothing but pity towards her. I just wanted to hold her hand and tell her we'd get through this together. That everything would be just fine. I wished that for her a lot. Trouble always found it's way to her. Maybe she was trouble. Perhaps misfits built homes with the wood of her personality and the nails in her glances. Power tools rumbled from the electricity on her skin during her morning high and her nightfall whiskey.  When she blinked, the strength returned and the blizzard dumped on our table once again. 

I couldn't bring myself to call attention to her. Pride was being set on fire, the need was not to pour gas on her dignity too. 

We only had half an hour before our flight took off, so we opted to wait in the terminal. Nick was knocked out on Joe beside me while Demi slouched and played on my other side. It was awkward, but the silence was better than the noise so I decided I'd take what I could get. Demi looked over to me occasionally a few times, then looked past me closely and put her phone away. There was no emotion in her eyes, just curious glances that came and went like flashes of lightning. Demi stood. "Walk with me?"