You, You, You

THESE ARMS

Izzy’s P.O.V. (the following day)

I threw my entire body at the door of the condo, managing to slam it shut even with the weight of a drunk Jason pushing on the other side of it.  I scrambled to fasten the locks and, after succeeding, let out an uneasy sigh of relief as I saw Jason’s keys were still on the kitchen counter.  There was no way he’d be getting back in any time soon, and I’d be gone by the time he did.  My back against the door, I closed my eyes and slid slowly down to the ground, lowering my head to my knees and flopping my arms out to my sides.  I heard Jason’s footsteps grow quieter in the distance.  He was gone, most likely to find a place where he could crash and sleep off his bender.

Peeking up from my legs, I surveyed our freshly-trashed home.  A full bottle of Jack had shattered the hanging mirror that faced me from the hallway, and all manner of counter top objects had been strewn over the floor.  I looked a few feet to my right and saw the full beer cans that Jason had aimed at my head— they were dripping out their contents with an accompanying hissing noise, having cracked slightly open after hitting the walls.  I was lucky enough to dodge everything Jason hurled in my direction.  I had no marks on me.  I rechecked my arms to make sure nothing had snagged me in the shuffle, but I seemed to be completely fine.

I was anything but fine.  Jason was an alcoholic now.  He had been for quite a while, but I chose to ignore it in my need to feel this relationship was good… in my need to escape loneliness.  I couldn’t ignore it anymore— he was coming after me more and more often, first just verbally but then physically as well. This was the worst incident yet.  Sooner or later I was going to run out of luck or my reflexes would fail me, and that day Jason would wind up really, really hurting me.  

I wasn’t even able to cry about it— Jason didn’t mean enough to me to cry about it.  As I slid down onto my side, curled up in the fetal position and turning my face to the floor, I thought just one thought.  The only thought that I could seem to grasp onto…

“Ed…” I said out loud.

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Eddie’s P.O.V.

I managed to get some pretty decent sleep before our afternoon recording session, and I woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed with plenty of time to kill before needing to be at the studio.  I took a long shower and phoned Jeff to see if he’d be willing to meet up with me for lunch before work— I offered my place so we could have some privacy and because Amy had just gone grocery shopping two days earlier.  I had more food than I knew what to do with.

Around noon, I heard the familiar sound of a basketball bouncing off of my front door. This was how Jeff took to knocking on people’s doors these days.  I swung the door open and greeted my friend with a smile.

“You ready to get your ass kicked after we eat?” he said, walking in and kicking off his shoes.

“In your dreams, Montana,” I retorted, leading Jeff into the kitchen where I had a pot of soup simmering and some sandwiches made.

“Jesus, Ed.  Real domestic of you!” Jeff said as he surveyed my culinary efforts.

“Some of us are refined man,” I muttered through a smirk, motioning for him to take a seat and dig in.  Jeff piped up through a gigantic bite of sandwich.

“So… can I assume the reason I’m here right now?”  He asked me, raising his eyebrows.

“Umm… well you’re really cutting to the chase, aren’t you,” I said, slightly taken aback by his forwardness.

“You’re transparent, my friend.  You just don’t think you are.  You gonna talk to her?”

“I… I don’t know.  I mean, I want to but how am I supposed to get close enough to her to even make that happen?  You know she doesn’t answer my calls,” I replied.