tired yet? ||cashby||

Chapter 9

For a few days, I just lazed around the house, covering my bruised arm with my usually hoodies. Truthfully, every time I looked at it, it just reminded me of Austin, and how gentle his lips were on my skin. As a person, I'm not typically bubbly or giddy, but, lately, I had a reason to be. Usually, I was just trying to be content. For 6 whole months, I had done nothing but think positively, and work on my self-improvement. I'd been through the motions, taken all the pills, been to every therapy session, and now I was just working with myself. Of course, nothing was as good as it seemed. With my family, it felt like they didn't care whether or not I fell apart again.
But, everyday, I had to remember to love the Little Things. It was tiring, and sometimes I just wanted to cry and screw up and not care at all.

Austin really gave me a reason to keep looking forward. I wasn't over the past yet, but I had passed it, after all. And that was something to be okay about. The thing was, no matter what you do, at the end of the day you have to love yourself. You have to be able to look in the mirror and understand that every person has weakness, and be okay with that. Even if I wasn't there yet, I wanted to be there. And wanting was enough to keep me stable. For now, at least.

Every time I thought about Austin, though, I didn't even have to try; I was just automatically happy. It didn't make any sense, but I loved being friends with him, even if that was all he considered us. I didn't want to think about that; I just wanted to soak in the good moments before they were gone. It was like he'd captured and created this better world for us, just the two of us, and I knew deep down that I would hold most of those stories until I died.

The day of Sophie's grad party was 3 days after our little abandoned mansion expedition. That morning, I woke at 9:30 AM, not too sleepy, and crept upstairs. There, my mother, father, and brother were all in a flurry of preparation, setting out foods, silverware and napkins, cleaning, decorating, even. For some reason, it was difficult for me to imagine them going to this much trouble for my grad party in 3 years.

"Alan, help me set up the food?" my mom practically begged. Shrugging, I grabbed some cheese platters and helped her set them up in the dining room. There was a nice tablecloth out, and all the plastic plates and napkins said "Congrats Class of '14!" I wished solemnly that those were my plates, and that I would never have to revisit high school.

"Honey," my mom mentioned as we worked, "why don't you take your sweater off?" she suggested.

"Not ready yet," I muttered, and went to grab more food. She sighed and walked away, letting the matter go. In my mind, I tried to visualize a better sort of life that I might live in the future, and that helped me to continue. Maybe some place where I could just be, with lots of trees and clouds, and Austin. We could live in a house in a cliff, with a forest by it.

He would never want that. Sighing, I just kept cleaning, kept helping out until my mind was numb and the bad thoughts were gone. Depending on myself to be okay was probably the only goal I had, as of then.

A few hours later, around noon, people began arriving. Many of them were Sophie's classmates, some of whom I'd seen before at school. My entire extended family came, too. They all filled up the kitchen, living and family rooms, and the backyard and deck, too. Everyone was eating and drinking, congratulating my older sister for making it through school.
Her wavy blonde hair had been curled nicely, and I thought, even though she wasn't always nice, that she looked very beautiful. We had the same eyes, a lighter brown color, and today she was all smiles, accepting cards and congratulatory handshakes. I was a little proud, and hoped, one day, I could look like that: so self-assured.

My place was to take coats, and just help in any way I could. Once everything had settled down, and the steady stream of incoming guests trickled to a halt, I relaxed. Our house was fuller than it had ever been, it seemed. Earlier, I'd made Sophie a card, and I wanted to give it to her. There were $50 inside, because I wanted her to at least like it a little bit. She stood outside, socializing and mingling. Truthfully, I felt really uncomfortable with all these people, but I was trying to pretend like it wasn't bothering me. As she walked into the kitchen, I scurried over, hoping to catch her.