Help Me Believe

Matters

The world spins around me whilst I lose myself to the music; this sensation of the world can't be better than this; I gulp a few sips from the beer I'm holding and sway my hands around. "Come on, it's time to go, Daisy." I peek at my best friend, Clyde Jarvis. "More... please?" He shakes variously at me. "We've been at this for hours."

I brighten my lips and puppy my eyes. "One last dance, please... pretty please?" He sighs as I climb onto the counter. "Daisy, no." I sway my hands in the air, my hips swing left and right. "Daisy, please." His mouth opens but he doesn't say anything.

"Please--?" I lean closer to look pitiful and my face pouts like an angel, all these movements are so easy and I could do them forever. "Clyde, please, we're going to miss it! The next song is going to start in five minutes." His head tilts back with another sigh, and I smile triumphantly as I notice his eyes are closed.

"You're too stubborn." I gasp dramatically. "Stubborn? Me? You got to be kidding me, I never was." My best friend cracks one eye open. "You know I have work tomorrow, Daisy." I nod... dramatically. "All right, all right, come on. Off the counter Dais."

I hop off the counter and take a couple of larger gulps from my bottle and before I know it. Clyde throws it in the sink and drags me toward the door. "Clyde – what." He doesn't say anything, just throws me over his shoulder, and without warning, yanks the door open, which causes me to vomit all over his jacket. Clyde sighs. "You need God, Daisy. Not some drunken party."

"I know. I promise. This won't happen again. I'm done."

"You better be serious this time, Daisy. I'm done with these parties."

"I know, C-Clyde. I am too."

"From tomorrow, we're done with this Daisy. And I'm not going to take you tomorrow night. You're staying home with me, where you belong."

"I-I'm sorry."

I can't think straight with my spinning head. He opens the passenger door and gently rests me in the seat of his beat-up truck. "Sorry about that," I mumble whilst I swipe the back of my hand against my mouth. All I can feel is his warm breath as he buckles my seat. I try not to breathe in his face as he peeks at me for a few seconds and closes the door. Counting his steps to the driver's side.

"Here, Dais." Thankful for the blanket, I pull it over my naked thighs. I know wearing this red dress was going to get me in some form of trouble, but that's never bothered me before until Clyde had to fight off some guy trying to encourage me to party more.

Clyde starts the ignition. "Its fine, Daisy." I can hear the sadness in his voice as he pulls away from the parking lot. We ride in silence for a while, which gets slightly uncomfortable when you know there's someone on your mind, and you can't express anything.

"Why are you always drunk?" It's a simple question but it makes me jump anyway. I shrug and rub my forehead with my icy fingers. "Honestly? I don't know." I turn to face him. "I do feel good and then..." My voice trails off, and I don't know if it's obvious to Clyde that I'm scared to continue.

"You have too much to drink and then you regret it?" His guessing is correct though. I nod, "Well yeah, but it's more than that." The car falls silent again and he hums thoughtfully. "Do you want to talk about its Dais?" I don't want to cry because I feel like a wimp. Instead, I swallow and shake my head. I've always been good at hiding things and I think this time will be no different, maybe he'll forget. I hope he does.

Maybe he'll leave me alone if he knows I'm not strong enough to tell him. "Daisy... I'm here if you need to talk, okay? Don't hold everything in or else you might just end up drowning yourself or something." A part of me wants to believe him. To accept what he says and to just let it go and spill my guts, to just let it all spill out of me, and to know that it's over.

But a small part of me knows that he won't just forget about whatever it is. That's Clyde. He'll remember it until the day he dies. That tiny little bit of me knows that this is going to be our thing. The thing where we both deal with it until we're old and grey and we're both ready to die but it'll also be our thing, our secret. It's the reason why I love him so much. Because he's here for me even if he thinks I'm weak sometimes.

He's always there for me, even if he isn't good at expressing himself. "Thanks, Clyde, really, but--"

"But nothing Daisy, you can ask me whenever, and I promise that there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Just let me do my job, okay? You know what I always tell you. Whom do you need?" I smile at his words. "Thank you, Clyde. And I remember what you always tell me."

He squeezes my knee affectionately and my stomach tingles... what? "Anything for you, sunshine." He returns his palm to the steering wheel. "Please don't forget it, Daisy." "I won't, Clyde." He turns on the radio and we listen to some music until we arrive home. I follow him inside and into the kitchen.

"What something to eat?" I nod dramatically. "Okay. What would you like? Toast? Bacon? Egg?" "Uh... egg please." He chuckles and makes his way upstairs to cook us breakfast.

After a few moments of just standing in silence in the kitchen, I look around at the pictures lining the wall. Clyde has always been there. When my parents passed away when my family discarded me, and when my last messy relationship didn't work out. Every single time he has taken me in. Never a bad word... just always take me in.

Sometimes I wonder why he is alone and allows himself to just work, but I remember that he always talks about his faith and how strongly he feels about it. I focus on the pictures again. I chuckle softly to myself. They all remind me of the times that Clyde had taken me places. He's taken me to the most amazing place in the world.

He's taken me on many adventures, he's always been there and I appreciate him for that. I remember the times when I needed to believe again, and Clyde has always made it possible. He always kept me in the loop, and whenever I felt like I couldn't anymore, he told me his story about how he found God.

I pick a photo of him smiling brightly. I smile back, although I can't quite remember how exactly he got such a silly picture.

My attention diverts as soon as I hear Clyde calling my name from somewhere in the house. "Yeah?" My screaming scratches a little and I rub my throat as I spot him standing in the doorway, with two plates of eggs, toast, and bacon on each plate.

He carefully climbs the stairs down, and smiles brightly, allowing me to laugh as he hands me a plate. "Come on, eat up. Jeez, I'm hungry." I chuckle at him as we set the dishes down on the table. He sits down opposite me and takes a bite of his toast, smothered in butter.

I stare silently at my plate. "What's wrong?" He looks between me and his plate. "Hey." His voice drops. "What happened Dais? Is everything all right? Is it t-the butter? The eggs? Maybe the bacon?" I can't help my laughing whilst I push my hands up. I can feel salty water threatening to make a scene. "No, no. There's nothing wrong with the food. I'm sorry, just thinking." A soft sigh escapes his lips as he nods and continues to eat. I can't bring myself to eat.

"Are you sure you're okay, Daisy?" My eyes dart up to meet his worried blue orbs once again. Oh, man, I want to cry so badly. Please don't. Please. Don't.

"Oh, yeah, I-I'm fine." I force a smile, warning them to stay away, if Clyde sees me crying, it'll be a never-ending squeeze, but maybe that's what I need.

I smile once again as I push the eggs around on my plate. I look up at his raised eyebrow. "I'm fine, Clyde." I know lying to him isn't the best option, but I don't want him wondering what's wrong every five seconds.

He sighs, "Is there any chance you would like to tell me what happened?" His voice is soft. I can tell he is trying his best not to pry. I look away again... this does feel awkward, and I know that my body is telling me to be honest, but deep inside. Clyde knows what is wrong. He just wants me to talk about it to feel better. And of course, my gut isn't lying.

This whole situation isn't normal, and yet, I still manage to find a way to avoid --this topic. "No." I simply reply. It almost doesn't sound like me.