Ice

7-'i'm overreacting'

I can't love you.

   Gabe left the park at a bitterly brisk pace.

Love you, I can't.

   He stopped off at a Walgreens just down the road from his house.

You I can't love.

    After a bit of searching, he purchased a bottle of sleeping pills that he probably didn't need. The cashier studied him curiously as he checked out, so Gabe threw a chocolate bar onto the counter beside the bottle. People ate chocolate when they were upset, right? Why couldn't he?

    Didn't people buy sleep aids when they were upset, too?

   I'm overreacting, he told himself. I'm being stupid. I didn't love her, anyways. Love isn't staring at the sky with a girl. Love is smiles across rooms and making breakfast. He felt the eyes of the cashier boring into the back of his head as he rushed out of the store, trying to ignore the prickling behind his eyes. I'm overreacting.

    Gabe arrived home and was glad to find both the driveway and garage empty. He skidded down the hall and into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him although there was no one there to hear it. The chocolate bar in his hand was tossed with rage into the trash can, but not the pills. He held the bottle tightly in both hands as he sat down on his bed. His head fell to his hands, and he blinked back tears.

    The boy laughed grimly at the thought of himself crying over some winter-obsessed girl. He would appear absolutely ridiculous to anyone, a seventeen-year-old boy squeezing medicine and ferociously wiping at his eyes.

    Hemera had never once called him Gabe, he realized. He had always been Gabriel. Why hadn't he noticed that before? Maybe he had, subconsciously.

    Gabe tried desperately not to think of her, but everyone knows that not trying to think of something only makes you think of it more. So there in his head appeared an image of the girl he thought loved, but knew he didn't. He just couldn't.

    He pictured her bright gray eyes and her bright blue-streaked but dark hair and her bright smile and her bright everything. She just glowed in his mind's eye. Her plump lips were purple in this mental image, because that had always been his favorite color on them. Gabe was very glad he had not kissed her, because how sad would he be now if he had?

    The lid of the bottle in his hands seemed to remove itself, it flew off so quickly. He popped one of the colorful tablets into his mouth.

   He felt as if a heavy weight were sitting on his chest, making his heart beat quicker and his stomach churn. Not effects of the pill so soon, just... stress? Heartbreak? Anxiety? He was young, how could he know? Maybe everyone felt this torture sometimes. If that was so, he certainly never wanted to feel it again.

   A trophy situated on a shelf caught Gabe's eye. Definitely not an academic one - basketball. He was never going to get into a college like his brother playing a stupid sport. He needed spectacular grades, which he could not achieve. And why not? Joseph did, both of his parents had when they were in school. What made him different? Not that it really mattered. He was more than halfway through his junior year, too far along to change enough that would make a difference to the future. He was grotesquely hopeless.

   From inside his pocket, Gabe's cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out, looked at the screen, saw an image of Hemera smiling up at him, and scowled. His eyes scanned the screen to see three missed calls, all from her.

    "I'm overreacting," he said aloud, to no one. Then he swallowed another pill.

    Gabe hadn't noticed that his cheeks were moist with salty streaks of water until now. He groaned, feeling embarrassment bubble in his stomach even though no one ever had to know that he sat here crying. If his mother found out, she would definitely enforce the psychiatrist idea from weeks ago.

    His poor mom, she was so overly stressed. That morning she had informed her youngest son that his father would be leaving for a few days once more. Gabe had seen his mom force smiles, but never had she plastered a smile so phony and sad as the one she donned that morning. She was finally breaking down, too. And Gabe could only be a burden for her. How would it feel to know your son is achieving absolutely nothing in life?

    "God dammit," Gabe growled, and another capsule slid down his throat.

    His phone buzzed once more. He rolled his eyes at the sight of Hemera's glowing features, and very nearly threw the device across the room. The last thing he wanted to do was speak to her. She probably thought him a fool after his emotional outburst, and would be reasonable in doing so. Really, she probably never wanted to talk to him again.

   Despite his fears, Gabriel tapped a few buttons and was soon holding the phone up to his hear, listening to the messages left by Hemera. Her anxious voice said through the receiver, "Hello? Please answer. I just want to talk, okay? Don't be embarrassed or something, Gabriel, we just need to talk. Please call me back."

Gabriel.

   With his eyelids beginning to droop, he loosed a frustrated semi-scream and weakly chucked the bottle of pills at the wall opposite him. Colorful capsules flew into the air, scattering across the floor and raining down on his desk.

    The movement fatigued him. Maybe a multitude of the pills worked quicker than just one. He moved on to the next message. "Oh for Christ's sake, Gabriel," Hemera's voiced huffed. "Answer your phone. You're seriously overreacting." He smirked and answered to a girl that wouldn't hear, "Tell me about it."

    There were no more recordings, only three missed calls. Gabriel leaned back on his pillows, feeling that he wouldn't be able to sit up much longer. He stared at the ceiling, thinking of the pills strewn about his bedroom. He hoped none of his family members would come in and see that. He would be forced to discuss the whole Hemera ordeal and his sudden break-down that he no longer had the energy to feel. Talk about embarrassing.

    A jingling noise abruptly filled the room, and Gabe could feel a vibration on his leg. He picked up the phone. He saw, again, Hemera's face. He selected the "Answer" button.

    "Gabriel!" she yelped. "God, you finally picked up. Why weren't you answering? Whatever, it doesn't matter. Look, about earlier today... I don't want you to be upset. I just... I'm sixteen, Gabriel. We're young, and we've hardly met. I mean, we don't even know what love is. You understand, right?"

    He remained silent.

    "Um, so... I just don't want you to think that you did something wrong. But I can't love you. I'm too young; you're too young. And we're polar opposites, Gabriel. Don't tell me that opposites attract, because people are not just their protons and neutrons. We're much more than that. Heh. We can still be friends, right? Because I would hate to lose you, I really do care about you."

     "Okay," was his only response. He knew that it couldn't happen, though. Not after they spent almost two months hanging out and slipping all over ice and crying in front of one another. Not after one admitted to feeling emotionally attached to the other, and the other did not return the feelings.

    "Great, that's great. Okay, bye, Gabriel, I'll see you soon," Hemera's voice ensured. It was clear, however, that she did not believe it either. Gabe's heart dropped to his stomach as he realized that their friendship had ended just like that. Unless Hemera made some miraculous move, they were done. Back to awkward smiles as they passed in the hallway.

    His eyes fluttered shut. He could feel sleep overtaking him, and he noted - with a slight bit of disappointment - that he would surely wake up later that evening. Three over-the-counter pills weren't enough to do any real damage, for better or for worse.

    So he fell asleep thinking that the first person he may have loved would no longer be around for him. He would be back to sitting quietly among his new friends, and they would invite him places, and he would go. He would develop better friendships, and try to avoid eye contact with the Greek goddess of the day whenever she was around. He would try to raise his grades, even though he knew it was too late. He would live like every other high school student did, because he had too.

   And he would know that learning to ice skate had been one of the best and worst ways to spend his past five Friday afternoons.

   And maybe, just maybe, he would hate winter a little but less.

****

the end!!