Antipodes

Eight

About an hour later, Roxy came home with a book in her hand. 

"Where's Ryan?", she asked her mother who was lying on the grey couch in the living room. She sat as soon as she heard his name. "He left his book on the beach... Mom?"

"He's gone", replied her mother.

"What do you mean 'gone'?".

"He packed his things and went back to the City", she said turning to her daughter.

"What happened?", she asked with tears in her eyes. "He left his book !", she shouted.

"Roxanne, it's just a book", responded her mother.

"He read this book like thirty times, it's not just a book !", she said while tears started coming down her face. "Mom listen to me: he is not coming back. Ever ! Do you know why? Because right now he might be dead and you don't even care about it!".

"Stop this right now Roxanne!", yelled her mother. "He's okay, he's perfectly fine. He'll call as soon as he gets home", said her mother trying to reassure her. But she was more worried herself. What if he didn't call? 

She sat down again and tried to chase away any negative thoughts that crossed her mind. Her daughter  sat beside her and put her head on her shoulder. They were both desperate on how to help him.

"He said that he loved you and that if you ever change your mind, his proposition stands", remembered her mother. Roxy started crying again. He haven't forgot about her.

The two hours trip from the Hamptons back to New York gave him some time to think. Think about what he have done, about what he's going to do and whatever he needed to do. So as soon as he got home, he made a decision: get his shit back together. He wanted to sleep during the journey but he didn't feel like it. He felt anxious again, his heart was racing, faster than usual. The more he thought about it the more he felt sick. He opened his bag and looked for the flask of Xanax. He took one pill and hated himself right after it. He hated to be dependant on some kind of drugs.

As soon as he got to New York, he went to this hardware store two blocks away from his house. He bought enough white paint for all the house. He went home, opened the windows, lit a cigarette and began to pack all his books in boxes. And that's when he remembered the book. He must have left it on the beach earlier that morning.

"Please, keep the book. Read it if you feel like it, I'm sure you will love it", he texted his sister. 

"I changed my mind. I hope you didn't. And I will read it. I love you, please call or return my calls", she responded.

"I love you too", he replied her. He didn't call. He didn't answer her calls nor Katheryn's. 

By dawn, he was done with the kitchen and the living room. It took three days and nights for the whole house. And after that, he felt relieved. Everything was so... pure. Except himself. So he took a shower, like this could be of some help. It didn't help. He still had scars, actual scars. He had this one on his collarbone, it looked like some cigar burn. He couldn't make himself to cover it up with another tattoo so he decided to keep it, like a constant reminder of what should have become of him.

After that, he felt so exhausted that he jumped on his bed and closed his eyes heavy with sleep. He slept for what felt like eternity for him. Then he woke up, checked the time and found out that he only slept for half an hour. He sighed and went to the kitchen. He prepared some coffee and smoked some cigarettes. He took his phone then dialled the only number he should have dialled a long time ago. It was 6 AM.

"Hello?" said the voice on the line.

"Hello", he said. "I'm sorry to wake you up this early on a weekend but I need to tell you...", he started when the voice cut him off.

"Are you the one who used to call every week?", asked the male voice irritated. It must be her husband this time.

"Yes", he answered. "Sorry about that too but I can explain it. Just don't hang up, please", he tried.

"Okay, I'm awake anyway so go ahead, son". He called me son, he thought.

"My name is Ryan Harrelson", he began. "I was friends with your son, Tyler."

"Sweet Lord!", the man exclaimed.

I think I will forever dedicate my stories to @dopeee unless I find someone greater than her. Thanks for the support doll <3 !