Back to Back Pt. 08

Artie

I couldn't do it. When Miles walked through the door I could practically feel Marissa waiting for me to say goodbye, but I just couldn't do it.

I thought maybe it was because the last time I said goodbye to him I didn't see him for twelve years.

Maybe I was still weak from my complete breakdown, too.

Maybe, I was just weak.

When he said his plans were up in the air, my mouth was moving without conscious thought. Peripherally, I caught Marissa's glowering, but I was focused solely on the way Miles beamed at whatever it was I said.

His smile filled me and immediately I was reminded of why being around him was so dangerous.

I almost fell into the spiral, but I dragged myself out of it.

I decided to let myself enjoy my time with Miles, just for a few days.

********

Miles

The drive to Portland was about two hours, and most of it Artie and Marissa were jabbering. I was in the back. Not sure how the tallest one got stuck sitting bitch but I'm sure Marissa had something to do with it. So I sat in the middle, right in her rear view..

They tried to include me in conversation but my responses were minimal. Eventually, they just continued on without me, going a million miles a minute. They were going so fast their conversation was practically unintelligible nonsense to me anyway. I think they were discussing a T.V. show?

Honestly, I was thinking about Nat. I thought about her the whole time I was at the gym and I was still thinking of her then.

When I saw Artie crying, I sprang to action. There was no thinking involved, my inner monologue completely silent. I was driven purely by instinct. The sadness and desperation behind his eyes, they killed me. I would have done whatever it took to bring him some peace. Even before, when I just suspected Artie was struggling with something, I was proactive. I was calling Marissa or trying to get him to open up.

With Nat, I knew for months she was dissatisfied with me. And I did nothing. I let her fall to the wayside.

It was like I completely forgot about her. I was angry and disappointed in myself.

********

Marissa's place was nice, much nicer than she made it out to be. On the way there she forewarned us that she had a two bedroom, but the bedrooms weren't much. She said the entire place was small, even called it a shoebox.

But, her apartment building was impressive. It was an old building, or at least the architecture made it look like one. Gleaming fixtures and marble everywhere. Romanesque columns and tasteful furniture. The completely gold elevator was playing fucking soft jazz.

When we walked into her apartment on the top floor the last thing I noticed was the size. The entire wall of her dining area was floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bay..

"Damn, Marissa... Nice digs." I dropped my shit and walked straight to the windows.

"Nice digs." She mocked me.

"Are you thirteen?"

"Yeah, thirteen inches deep in your mom." I said to the window as I flipped the bird over my shoulder.

"Hey!" I heard Artie yell.

"That's my joke." He said.

Marissa muttered to herself, shaking her head and exiting the room.

I went back to admiring the view.

"C'mon." Artie grabbed my forearm and pulled me away from the windows.

Marissa gave us a tour of her apartment, which took all of five minutes. Her apartment was nicely decorated, in a way that was so cohesive I know it must have been pre-furnished. The primary bedroom had a decent sized ensuite and like the guest bedroom and the dining area, had giant fucking windows. I'd kill to live in a place with a view like that

"You guys can put your stuff in here." Marissa said as she showed us to our room

The guest bedroom definitely fit the description of 'shoe box'. It was large enough for a queen bed and a dresser. That was about it. There were tiny, and I mean tiny, bedside tables on either side of the bed. Stools, basically they were stools.

"Your parents don't want the bed?" I asked the room.

There were maybe two long seconds of complete and utter silence. Nobody said anything, nobody moved. The air went thick and still.

Artie and Marissa's eyes met for a split second, before Marissa responded as if nothing happened.

"Just us three, this year." She turned around and walked straight out of the room.

"Bathroom is across the hall, extra linens are in the bathroom closet. I'm going to start dinner in a couple of hours, so do whatever." Marissa yelled as she walked to her bedroom.

I didn't know what the fuck to do. I hate it when that shit happens, people communicate paraverbally while I'm right there. I can never fucking pick up on what's going on. My first instinct was to pick Artie up, baseball pitch him onto the bed, and then wrestle information out of him. But family shit... clearly, he didn't share for a reason.

So instead, I schooled my features and pretended nothing happened just like Marissa. Artie's relief was nearly imperceptible, but I caught it. The slightest sigh of relief when I just started moving our shit from the entryway to our room.

"You brought the switch?" Artie asked as he eyed the case peeking out of my duffle.

"Duh." I handed it to him.

He disappeared in a flash, and as I was unpacking my shit I could hear furniture moving around and wires slapping the floor.

Fuck it, unpacking could wait. I charged to the living room, ready to destroy Artie at his video game of choice.

*********

Artie

Soft acoustic music was playing off of the speaker in the kitchen, starkly contrasted by me and Miles' shouting and wrestling on the couch.

Occasionally, when Miles and I would cause a jarring enough noise from hitting the floor, or the wall, or the furniture, Marissa would yell at us to break it up. We'd cool down for a minute. But, inevitably we'd get right back to it pushing and smack-talking, trying to sabotage each other.

I'm pretty sure Miles was letting me win, but I beat him a bunch of times.

Either way, I still rubbed it in his face.

Just a few hours before, everything felt empty. I felt empty. My life, the dorm, everything. It was only the three of us in the apartment, but to me it was a full house. The two most important people to me were together under one roof, it was hard to be worried about much of anything.

The aroma of whatever it was Marissa was cooking wafted in from the kitchen and my mouth was watering. I hadn't had much of an appetite lately, but suddenly it was back in full force. I was getting fidgety, I was so hungry.

When Marissa announced dinner was ready Miles and I glanced at each other for maybe a millisecond, before racing to the table.

Clearly, Miles and Marissa got over whatever they had against each other because while I was inhaling my food, they were talking it up. Miles told Marissa about the business frat, what he's been making me do in the gym, how classes have been. He was a real chatterbox today, and he had this grin on his face all through dinner. I appreciated it. Not only did it give me time to eat, but it was like taking an antidepressant.

I remembered briefly I was supposed to be "recalibrating", sans Miles. But looking over the table at him and Riss, I knew it would've been stupid to deprive myself of this feeling.

I ate until I was too lethargic to continue lifting my fork. But we just sat around the table full of empty dishes, talking and laughing. Marissa used to be in the same business fraternity we were and she was recounting her many antics from her time on campus.

I couldn't believe there was a time I ever thought business fraternities were professional.

Soon, even leaning back in my chair wasn't enough. I needed to be horizontal, so I excused myself from the table. Probably not the most courteous but I was nearly debilitated by the pressure in my stomach. So, Marissa and Miles could eat a bag.

Miles, being Miles, cleared the table without a word. Pretty sure I heard him loading the dishwasher, too. But, I was already half out of it laying all the way across Marissa's minuscule couch.

"You don't have to do that." Marissa said, but I knew how much she hated doing dishes.

"I don't mind at all, you made dinner." More clanging.

"I haven't been able to use a stove in a brick though, you mind if Artie and I cook something one of these days?"

"I mean, shoot, go right ahead. But, you'll probably have to go to the store. I don't have much in the house."

"Okay, word."

Marissa appeared next to the couch, leaning down next to my head.

"What does 'in a brick' mean?" She whispered.

I snorted.

"That's Miles-speak for a long time. I think a 'brick' can also be a long distance."

She looked perplexed, and I did not blame her at all.

Marissa got situated in the recliner and put on the TV, and I just rested my eyes while she scrolled through the channels. Her couch was kind of a piece of crap but I couldn't have been more content. For the first time in almost a month, it felt like my mind was still.

Suddenly I was being jostled and shoved. Miles pushed me face down and almost over the edge as he shimmied his way between me and the back of the couch.

Marissa's couch was not the biggest. A tiny little L-shaped sectional that was basically a loveseat and a chaise lounge put together. I left most of the chaise part for Miles. But, I guess he wanted to lie down too.

I can't say I was bothered by it, he makes a great blanket.

I just listened with my eyes closed, enjoying their company. Marissa didn't last long. She's never been a night owl, but she had an early meeting tomorrow on top of that. Tiredly, she wished us a good night and went to bed.

Miles immediately switched to ESPN, apparently excited for the upcoming football games. I didn't really keep up with football, so I tuned out even further. The day was starting to catch up with me and I felt myself slowly losing consciousness.

I could've moved to the recliner and let Miles have the couch. I should've, even.

But, I didn't. I just laid there and allowed Miles' warmth to soothe me to sleep.

********

Miles

Watching the sports forecast and laying with Artie, not sure it got much better than that. Part of me still couldn't believe he was actually spending time with me. I was taking as much of it as I could get. But, Artie was passed out and I was ready to knock too. I just didn't have it in me to disturb him.

He seemed so satisfied, falling asleep with what seemed like the tiniest little smile on the corner of his lips.

I saw Artie smile more today than I had in a long ass time. I didn't even realize the weight seeing Artie so down was putting on my shoulders. I felt free as a fucking bird seeing him so happy today. Laughing, yelling, joking, wrestling with me.

I guess I should've called Marissa a lot sooner.

I still wasn't really sure what was going on with him. He asked me not to make him talk about 'it'. What is 'it'? Beyond me. I was itching to just strong-arm him into telling me what the fuck was going on, but the last month taught me all that would do is push him away.

So, I let it be, decided to take it one day at a time. He seemed happier, that's what mattered.

Eventually, the couch was starting to dig into my back and I knew I couldn't put going to bed off any longer.

I lifted myself off Artie carefully, stretching my already aching back out once I got to my feet.

Fuck that piece of shit couch. I just picked Artie's ass up bridal style. He would be cranky as fuck in the morning if I let him sleep on that all night.

As I was about to walk into the guest room Marissa shuffled out of her bedroom, empty water glass in hand.

She was wearing fluffy slippers. Fluffy bunny slippers. Pink, with little ears sticking up.

"Nice kicks." Couldn't help myself.

"Why are you whispering?" She retorted.

"You're not going to wake him up."

I looked down at Artie, his head hanging limply off of my arm. She had a point.

"Nice slippers." I said confidently, walking into the guest bedroom and kicking the door closed.

********

The next morning I woke up bright and early. I specify because that morning I realized the downside of all those goddamn windows. Asscrack of dawn and it's already too bright to keep sleeping. I had no clue how Artie did it. He just kept sleeping, completely undisturbed.

I got right to it. On the way in I caught a sign for an "activity center", and I was correct in assuming it was a gym. Well, "gym" was generous. But, it had a bench, squat rack, and some free weights. Enough for a half decent lift.

By the time I finished my workout and showered, the McMillan siblings were still dead to the world. Pretty sure Marissa had a meeting in an hour, but seemed like a her problem.

That kitchen had been calling my name since the second we walked in. I'm not the greatest cook in the world but I love to do it, especially for other people. I checked my phone and there was a grocery store within walking distance from the apartment. In a minute, I was out the door.

It was a beautiful morning in Portland. The air was cold, I can't lie, but the salty breeze and bright sun were worth it. I was lavishing in it, slowly strolling down the busy street.

When I got back Marissa's dress shoes that had been by the door were gone. The apartment was silent, and smelled like the pot of coffee she must have brewed on the way out.

I unpacked everything and got ready for a full feast. Mise en place or whatever. Pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, hash browns, orange juice. Whatever people ate for breakfast, I got. I don't know, Artie can never turn down breakfast.

Like clockwork, as soon as the meat became fragrant I heard movement from the guest bedroom. Then two feet pattering on the wood floor before Artie, still wrapped in the blanket from last night and hair sticking up in every direction, came barreling out of the bedroom. He charged directly toward me, not slowing even slightly, colliding with me and slamming my lower body into the cupboards.

"Good morning, frickhead. Is the food ready, or what?"

He looked up directly at me with exasperation, as if he'd been waiting for weeks.

For a moment, it was like I couldn't recognize him.

His eyes, which I had become so used to seeing dark and glued to the floor, were bright and wide. The purple circles almost nowhere to be found and his brows high, challenging me.

A smile spread over my face.

"You got meat?" I asked as I offered him the tongs.

Artie snatched the tongs out of my hands and manned his station. In no time we had a full spread ready to be crushed. We plated up and sat on the bench at the dining table, shoulder to shoulder.

It was a quiet meal, but almost more fulfilling that way. Happily enjoying his plate, Artie was just smiling at me and the view of the bay. Practically bobbing up and down in his chair as he chewed. The food was good, don't get me wrong, but I was having more fun just watching him, relishing in his exuberance.

"What're you looking at, fricker?" I guess I relished a little too long.

"Nothing, fricker."

I swear to god Artie stuck his tongue out at me, before going back to his pancakes.

"What do you wanna do today?" I said.

Artie shrugged his shoulders, still occupied by the pancakes.

"Hang out with you."

Pretty sure I got high when he said that.

*********

Artie

Miles is the worst. And the best. But I swear he loves making me miserable.

All morning, he spoils me. Cooking me breakfast, playing video games to my heart's content. He ordered us a frickin pizza for lunch. I was living it up. We trashed Marissa's living room. The couch just sucked so bad we moved the coffee table and spread out on the floor.

But that was where the spoilage ended. My suspicions that Miles was letting me win all this time were proven true, because he annihilated me. Complete desolation. I lost round after round after round. And it was like he was barely even trying, occasionally playing with one hand as he sipped a drink or took a bite of food in the middle of the game. I think my eyebrows were going to be permanently pressed together from how hard I was focusing just trying to keep up.

We had been playing for hours and I had FINALLY gotten a chance at beating him at Mario Kart. But on the final stretch with Miles tailing right behind me, he slapped the entire remote out of my hand.

I couldn't even go after it. I was just frozen. Incredulous.

"Mi... You..."

I look over and he's just grinning smugly to himself as the game whistled, signifying his victory.

I pounced.

"YOU. Fricken. MONSTER!" Yeah, I said it.

I laid him out on the floor, as I straddled his lap beating him over the head with whatever pillows were in reach.

"You're evil! You fricken-"

And he just continued laughing, louder, and deeper. The sound flowed through me, any even playful anger was washed away.

Okay, maybe not all of it. I kept going. I put my hands around his neck and pretended to strangle him, shaking him back and forth. Still, he laughed.

"You're supposed to be asphyxiating, not laughing." I shook him some more.

"Right, right. My bad." And then his whole body just went slack, playing dead.

But the edges of his mouth were twitching.

"Dead people don't smile."

He cracked, laughing.

"I can't help it." He said.

And then his eyes met mine.

All morning I'd been trying to keep my eyes to myself, but per usual with Miles, they'd stray toward him. Mine would catch his and he's smiling at me, but not with his mouth.

"You keep looking at me like that."

My hands weren't around his neck anymore, they were together resting over his heart.

He shrugged.

"I missed you."

I didn't know something could make you feel good and like crap at the exact same time until then.

My chin fell and my eyes landed on my hands. I picked them up.

"I'm sorry, Miles."

"Hey, don't be."

He gently lifted my chin while sternly looking into my eye. He shook his head.

"Don't be."

And then his arms were around me. The good kind of hug where his arms slid underneath mine and really wrapped me up.

I don't know what I ever did to deserve him.

"I'm sorry, too." I was lost in the hug. I didn't realize what he said for a second.

"What? What could you possibly be sorry for?"

He shrugged again.

"Smothering you, being overbearing."

I pulled out of the hug.

"Miles, you don't smother me."

He looked around for a second.

"Really?"

"I'm sitting on your lap."

He looked down.

"So... I can hug you whenever I want?"

I couldn't help but smile.

Maybe, it was then I should have established some boundaries. I didn't.

I nodded and he laughed a short laugh, before bear-hugging me so tight the air in my lungs was compressed out.

"Too tight, too tight."

"Sorry." He let up a bit, but not much.

"We hug all the time, Miles." Seriously, all the time. I was beginning to consider myself a seasoned pro at avoiding physical contact with him, but his hugs I could never turn down

"Not as much as we used to."

He was right, I guess I just didn't think he'd care.

I guess I just wasn't thinking about him at all.

I felt myself sink.

"You don't think it's weird?" I finally piped up. I had just been sitting there, on his lap, thinking and overthinking, when it flew out of me, what felt like involuntarily.

"What's weird?"

"How often we... touch."

This time, he pulled back to look at me in disbelief.

"What's weird about it? That's how we are." The look in his eye, it left no more room for questioning.

Right. That's how we are.

I heard rattling from the front door. The knob jiggled, then turned, and Marissa walked in carrying probably eight bags of groceries.

She walked in to me sitting in Miles' lap, with his arms around my waist and mine around his shoulders. I watched as her left eyebrow dropped and her right eyebrow slowly rose.