Plenty Wrong, But Still Here

Chapter 2: The Bandage of Friendship

The freezing winter air stung my cheeks. I hadn't bothered to get a scarf or a coat. Like that matters anymore, I thought.

I ran to José's, which was half a block away. 

José had been my best friend and next-door neighbor for years. He's always up for getting free food, naps, and catching a movie. We always laughed together over the antics of his little brother, the stupidity of our classmates, and each other's idiocy. Even though people said boys should be "manly" and tough, we always talked to each other about our problems. 

I stopped in front of the steps of his apartment building. I saw his bedroom window on the 3rd floor glowing pale yellow.

"José!" I yelled, cupping my hands. "José!"

A silhouette appeared. Yes! He's awake!
José opened his window and leaned out. "It's in the middle of the night, you idiot, quiet down!" he shouted. He looked down at me. "What do you want?"

"Can I come up? Please?" I asked.

José sighed. "I swear, I'm too nice sometimes," he muttered as he went to open the door.

When José opened the door, he saw the tears streaked down my face. "Woah. What happened to you?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Let's just get inside first. It's too freaking cold." I stepped inside the building.

José led me up 3 flights of stairs and into his room. I could tell he was dying to know why I was crying. I hadn't cried in years. But I was too tired to answer any questions. At the moment, I just wanted comfort.

José's room was pretty messy. His bed was wasn't made, his desk was chaos, and there was a tangle of cords and cables near the outlet. A bunch of random objects were scattered across the hardwood floor: pencils, empty drink bottles, shirts, phone chargers, books, etc. The chair was in the corner of the room. You know, the chair everyone has. It's not for sitting, but for piling stuff that you're too lazy to put away. 

"My parents are sleeping. You better be quiet, or else you'll wake 'em up." José pointed at a chair in front of his desk. "Sit there and wait."

I obliged. José left the room and came back with a box of tissues, a pint of chocolate ice cream, and a spoon. "Here," he said. "Thanks, man." I wiped my eyes and started digging into the ice cream.

"So, care to tell me what happened?" José crossed his arms and looked at me expectantly.

I took a deep, shaky breath. "Well, so you know how my parents usually bicker a lot, right?"

José nodded.

"Well," I continued. "Today they got into a really big fight. I don't actually remember what it was about, but it was probably something petty and stupid as usual."

"Wow," he remarked.

"So they kept arguing, going back and forth. I didn't realize it at first, since I was listening to AJR upstairs with my earbuds in, but they eventually got so loud that I could hear them."

José's eyes widened. "Through your earbuds? Dude, you keep your music on max volume."

"Yep." I nodded. "Well, I listened in to what they were talking about. Ah, I remember now. They were fighting over the check we needed to get so I could join soccer. You know how starting a sport costs a ton, right?"

"Oh, do I know," José muttered.

"So Dad forgot to get the check from the bank, even after Mom kept reminding him. I don't know why they made such a big fuss. The deadline for turning in the money is 3 weeks away." I realized I had been waving my hands. I dropped my hands down onto my lap.

"Adults have a strange sense of time, probably because of their busy schedules," José explained. "Sometimes I feel like they think years are just seconds."

"You make them sound like a new species," I said.

 "Well, as expected of the best future biologist." José wiggled his eyebrows. 

"Oh my god," I laughed as I buried my face in my palms. 

"So......your parents argued?" José gestured for me to continue telling him my story. 

"Right, about that. So I went downstairs and tried talking to them. I asked them to stop fighting, because, I mean, they'd had years of happy marriage already. I don't see why, or-  or when they stopped loving each other. Before, they would hug and do all that gross cheesy stuff couples do, but now...all they do is fight. 

When I asked them to stop fighting, they turned all the blame on me. They said it was my fault that they were always arguing, and said that if I wasn't born, they would be h- happy.."

I was now a blubbering mess. I took more tissues from the box and covered my face. 

José placed his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, still sniffling. He looked me straight in the eyes. "It's not your fault. It's never your fault. Every kid who's had their parents divorced thinks that way, but it's not true."

Some of the pain that gripped my heart started to loosen up. More tears formed at the corners of my eyes.

I think José started to panic.

"I mean, of course it's not your fault." José scratched the back of his neck. "They're adults, they should be able to figure out what problem is theirs and what problem is our's, right?"

I chuckled. "I guess so." 

"And anyways, they're the ones that are fighting. It's not like you sabotaged their marriage. You were born after they got married. If it was true love, they would have loved each other no matter how much stress they went though. They don't make any sense."

I smiled slightly, looking at the ground. "Thanks, bro. That really helped me." 

José patted me on the back. "Anytime! So, do you wanna stay over for a night?" 

"Sure. I honestly don't want to see my parents for a while. Maybe they'll calm down if I'm gone for a while."

José turned on his Wii console. "Are you up for Mario Kart?"

I smiled and grabbed a controller. "Always." 

                         ---------------------------------------------------------

After several rounds of Mario Kart, a movie marathon, and eating though José's stash of snacks, I was completely exhausted. 

I flopped on the cot that José had set up for me. "Help.....I think I'm dying. I'm dying, José. Help me," I groaned.

"That's what you get for eating 12 bags of microwave popcorn. Who knows what chemicals are in there." José rummaged around on his desk, looking for his phone. 

"But it's yummy."

"It's bad for your health."

"But it's yummy."

José sighed. "I'm too tired for your 2 A.M. stupidity mode. Go to sleep." 

I stuck my hands out. "Can I have a pillow?" José grabbed the pillow on his desk chair and threw it at me. The pillow whopped me in the face. "Owie," I complained.

"It's a pillow. It doesn't hurt that much," José said. He flicked off the lights. 

I blew a raspberry at him. "Goodnight." I tucked myself underneath the covers. 

"'Night," José said as he cocooned himself in his blanket. 

You're okay now, I thought to myself.

I drifted off to sleep.