Cold At My Core | Johnnie Guilbert

Ch 9: Empty Walls

I woke up in my own bed... Feeling a little down. Depression wasn't something I had often; it wasn't like the anxiety that plagued every part of me most of the time. This heaviness in my chest, this weight in my bones... I kind of hated it.

And the rest of me just told me I deserved it. I had left Johnnie alone.

When he needed me the most, I deserted him.

Anxiety kicked in, hammering my heart and making it difficult to breathe.

Just relax. Count to ten. Breathe with your tongue on the roof of your mouth.

But I couldn't. I tried to relax, and oddly enough sinking my palms into my eye sockets is what did it. I thought of Johnnie, and somehow that relaxed me.

I just beat off my first wave of anxiety. I just won, for the first time!

I grinned, hands still in my eyes, and when I relaxed, the world didn't look as scary.

It didn't look as scary at all.

________

I called Johnnie at a quarter past ten, and we talked for a while. I told him I was doing better, and I could sense the happiness--I could sense the pride--inside his voice as he praised me. Said it was better than he ever did.

And that made me feel guilty again. A little.

But was it my fault? With Alex, with Johnnie?

_________

My first appointment back was... Strained.

I asked a question, but no words were said and no definition was given. I picked at my teeth, occasionally clamping down and peeling whatever was left of a nail.

The slow typing suddenly stopped. I swear she's just doing that to waste time.

The appointment finally ended.

_____

He waited for me. For a long time. Past the time of my counseling appointment, past the time of lunch.

1:07pm. I finally pulled myself out of the bathroom, wrist wiping eyes and tracing the underline of my eyeliner. I was not about to mess up my makeup. Today just didn't call for it.

But like most days, something went wrong. Johnnie wasn't there when I stepped out into the lobby.

Huh?

Someone was reading the paper, the large sheet covering most of them. I should have looked at the hands, noticed how aged they looked, but instead I just peeked over, putting one hand on the top of the news.

"Johnnie?"

Old eyes swept up to meet mine. Totally old guy, no hair, glasses. About the opposite of my friend.

"O-oh." I shrunk back. "S-Sorry. I thought you were..."

He just looked at me as I glanced around the room again. "Did you see a guy with red hair, anywhere?"

At his denial, at that softly spoken "no", I thought of my own grandparents. I started down the hallway, going through the open entrance, and starting towards the elevator, eyes searching for Johnnie and brain somewhere far away.

My grandparents had always been there, when I was growing up. Every knee scrape, bruise, blister or cut, they healed me with medicine, band-aids, and freshly baked cookies. My grandpa taught me how to ace at poker; my grandma taught my bored self how to crochet. And then, when I was ten, they were taken away.

They ceased to exist in my life, and that hurt more than anything.

The elevator dinged, arrow lighting up and snapping me from my thoughts. Johnnie. Right.

I walked until my legs hurt. But luckily, it was the exact amount of steps I needed.

But with just a turn, just a spin of the heels, his eyes met mine, and grew wide.

Gotcha.

"Hey." I held my arm, hand loosely wrapping around most of my elbow. "I thought you were waiting."

"Yeah." He dropped his posture, leaning against the building. "Sorry. I got a little ansty and decided to bolt."

"Oh..."

We hung out in front of... Whatever building we were against, and a semi-truck went by, casting a gloomy shadow on both of us for a moment. It was then, it was there that I saw what Johnnie was raising to his mouth. Two fingers. One small stick.

"Johnnie! You smoke? What the hell, man?"

I shouldn't have intruded, but here I was, shoving my stupid ass into things that didn't concern me. It's not like he's addicted...

He just blew a stream of smoke down near his feet, and I watched the tainted air evaporate.

"Vape," Johnnie corrected, still not meeting my eyes. "It's different."

"Oh, really?" I scoffed sarcastically.

"Why do you care, anyway?"

A single beat went through me, and a thought echoed out of my brain.

"Um, because you're my friend."

Johnnie scoffed as soon as I added the word "duh".

It just reminded me of my mom. It reminded me of short breaths and heaving coughs. The cancer she desposed onto herself.

The hell she put us all through, even after he died.

I swallowed, swearing my eyes weren't as glassy as they felt. Swearing the tears wouldn't break, not until I was safely alone and closed off from the world. Not until I felt half dead, for the millionth time.

I just swallowed, and the stench of Johnnie's pen grew stronger as he walked past me, hand on my shoulder. Trying to guide me around, and his fingers circled my wrist. One forefinger slipped in between my bracelet and wrist, and I was glad my cuts healed without scars.

I was glad I didn't go deep enough, all those eons ago.

I was glad at least something was right.