We are the Birds

The Cleanup

I drive Embree to the bus station. Mac is asleep in the backseat. It's as if he won't miss him at all, but I know him better than that. He'll cry and call him everyday for weeks. I will mourn quietly.

"You can drop me off here. I don't want you guys getting stuck inside and having to pay to drop me off, because I need y'all to save for those plane tickets to come see me." He smiles the most sincerest smile and I hope that he will come back and change his mind.

The car door shuts, my heart sinks into my feet. He walks slowly to me and I run to him, wrapping myself around him, unable to contain it. Unable to be strong.
"Please don't go. Please don't go." I'm crying and my lips won't stop chanting over him. He hushes me, slowly peeling me off of him.

"Jen, I've got to go." He whispers in my ear. And my hands release him. He goes and I wipe my eyes. Walking back to the car, Mac is awake and in the driver seat. And the tears start again.
"Jen, I'm here." Mac says, while grabbing my hand.
He drives slow and we say nothing, the entire ride home.

I am angry at Mac. I am angry that he sat there and did nothing. Said nothing, to his friend who was leaving for good.

How do you do that? How do you love someone and show no emotion or pain when they leave you? I don't understand why Mac won't feel like I feel, and so I decide to distract myself.  I know that once I feel hatred toward him, we will not speak for awhile and I don't want to be alone. I can't be alone. I need him.

Mac drives  up to the house. We walk inside, slowly. And I light a cigarette to take the edge off my feelings. Mac shakes his head and pulls the cigarette out of my mouth, tearing it in two. He hates when I smoke, he's never told me why he dislikes it. The house is quiet, the tables full of used plates and water bottles. Kind of Blue by Miles Davis is still playing through the house, and I swallow the last glass of scotch that's been sitting on the kitchen counter.  Everything reminds me that Embree is gone, so I turn on Moonlight Sonata, to soothe my grieving heart.  

"Do you just want to lay down for awhile?" I say to Mac, who is trying to lightly clean up the house.  His lips move, and all I can do is follow his thick legs up the stairs. We lay in the quiet room, with decorative paisley up and down the walls. The room gets hot in the morning. The sun bakes the walls and fixtures in such immense heat, that steam rises from it. I pull the covers back,  after peeling off my sweat suit. We slide into the cool sheets and he keeps my hands from trembling. Mac pulls me close to him, wrapping himself around me, and pulling me into him as he breathes on my spine. His small kisses on the back of my neck are all that I remember, until we fall asleep.