Nick picks me up and takes me to his room. He places me gently on the bed and pulls the covers around me. He slides in next to me. Nothing will happen because we have been like this before. Like I said, it would be too weird for us to hook up. I don’t realize it until the next morning but he had held me all night and watched over me. This means more to me than anything he could have ever said to comfort me. Now I know why he is my best friend and why I love him almost more than I love myself.
I wake around noon to find Nick staring blankly, sleepily, into space. He didn’t get any sleep through the night. The other guys are awake and downstairs making some slight noise. We finally join them. They see my tear-stained cheeks and almost ask why. Nick softly shakes his head and I look at Howie. He only nods in supportive sympathy. I know I’ll tell him the story, the whole story, sooner or later. I could easily see myself with this man. He looks so gentle, so kind, so understanding. And there wouldn’t be any of those "weird" feelings either. Just what I like in a man.
...
I take my shower, dry myself off, dress, and wander into the kitchen for something to eat. There’s one slight problem: the guys finished off the food. I make myself halfway presentable and grab the magnetic grocery list off of the refrigerator. "Nicky, I need money for your groceries!" I call through the house. My voice booms through the halls as I rummage through the cabinets. A moment after I call, all five guys stand in the doorway to the kitchen, just looking at me. I turn around and jump at the sight of the ten eyes staring at me. "I, uhm, just needed Nicky, guys, but thanks for coming," I smile at them.
They nod and leave, but Nick remains. He hands over nearly $150 for the groceries. "The guys want to go over to that Countryside Mall near Largo. They say they’re bored. Wanna come?"
"Nah, I think I’m just gunna settle in today. I have to unpack the car and get some groceries. I wouldn’t want to hold up your plans." He nods, grabs the last slice of pizza off of the table, and leaves me standing alone in the kitchen with $150 in my hand and a rumbling tummy. Nicky the WonderButt just stole my breakfast. I’m not alone for long.
"Did I hear you’re staying here today?" Howie asks as he steps in. "I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but..."
"Don’t worry about it," I smile at him. "I have to clean all my junk out of my car, get groceries, and settle in. I should probably give the car a good scrubbing today, too..."
"Want some company? I’m not in a mall mood."
"Sure, doll face, the more the merrier."
...
The rest of the guys leave for the mall around two in the afternoon. Nick leaves first with promises to return with food for me. I roll my eyes because most of it will be gone by the time he returns. Twenty minutes later, he comes back with a half empty bag from McDonald's. He saved me a bag of fries.
I wait to make sure they’re gone before I sit Howie down and tell him the whole story. "I have no idea why I’m compelled to tell you so much about me that I told my best friend only last night, but here goes..." I start. Soon I’m through why I lived with my grandmother just down the street, why I left my grandmother’s house, and what had happened up until we met the night before and he broke into the window of my life.
He looks at me in astonishment. "And you’re still standing?" I arch my eyebrow. "I don’t know how you go on. You’re absolutely amazing."
"And I never get tired of hearing that," I smile and dry the rest of the tears that had fallen. I don't know why I cry when I tell this story. I'm not sorry for myself, at least I don't think I am. It's just painful, I think. "Let’s get my car cleaned out so we can head to the store." He nods and we both stand. I head towards the door but turn around suddenly. I remember something I want to tell him. I crash right into Howie, literally. His arms are immediately around me to try to prevent a fall. This doesn’t work. He gets off balance, tips backwards, and lands on his behind. Of course, I’m right on top of him, knocking him down fully, each of my hands landing to either side of his face. I look down at him and he gazes back up at me. Our noses are centimeters apart. I could stay like this forever! In the process of the fall, I don’t notice the, ahem, suggestive position we landed in. As luck would have it, I am straddling this gorgeous man and he is nowhere near protesting. I finally clear the "un-pure" thoughts from my mind. "Well, I wanted to tell you something," I whisper, "but now you had to go and make me forget it." I smile a million-dollar smile at him.
"I’m sure you’ll remember soon enough if it was important." I nod in agreement. I try to sit up but can’t... His arms are still around my waist and they’re refusing to let go. Finally, he moves one arm to brush a stray hair out of my face.
"Thank you," I whisper. Suddenly, I feel an uncontrollable urge to just lean down and kiss him, so sweetly yet passionately, but he moves his arms.
"We should get to the store before the other guys come home. They’ll be mad if there’s no food," he explains. I push myself up from on top of him and help him up. We leave the house to go to my car. Luckily, there’s not too much in it. We gather up the blankets, the pillows, the clothes, the lamp, the box of letters, and my prized possession, my "Bahamas Lucky Cat" (a gift from Nick a few years back), carry them all into the house and up to Nick’s room.
We drop everything from my car onto Nick’s bed. "He told me I can basically move in, but I’ll probably just live out of my bags until y’all are gone so I don’t put Nicky out of house and home and bed," I smile.
He nods and glances around the room. "I’ve never really been in this room. Not too bad," he nods in approval. Suddenly, something on the dresser catches his eye. He moves over to it, picks it up, and examines it. He finally turns around, looks at me, and then back at what he’s holding. "Is this you?"
I walk over to him. He’s holding an old framed photo of me, sitting on a stage with a guitar in my lap. It was taken about six years ago. "Yeah, it is."
"You used to play?"
"Used to," I sigh. He looks into my eyes for an explanation. "I guess there’s one part of my story that I left out, huh?" He nods again. I take the photo from him, walk back over to the bed, and sit down. I sigh as he sits down next to me. "I was forced to stop playing when the money ran out. I had to sell my guitar. It was either keep playing and be homeless and starve, or sell the guitar, put a couple of dollars away for the house, and use the rest on as much food as I could buy."
"You looked really happy," he says, gesturing to the photograph.
"I was. It was the night Nick came home from recording the album. I was playing at a bar and restaurant over in Saint Pete when he came in. He told me the news and someone took this picture right after that. I was so proud of him," I explain with a tinge of sadness in my voice. He picks up on it.
"What happened after that? I mean, I remember Nick disappearing for a while, and when he came back he was... different."
"Let me tell ya, sweetheart, money changes everything. He had it and I didn’t. He was fourteen and was going to be a big pop star. His ego got huge and I called him on that. It took him almost a year to get off of his high horse and give me a call. Granted, I was still living with my grandmother, but I was eighteen and had just finished school. I wanted to go to college. We couldn’t even afford the community college across town." I stand, return the photo to its proper place, and turn back around to face him. "But no more dwelling on the past. Time to get food."
We leave the room. Walking down the stairs, he asks, "What was in that one box I brought up? The light one that was in the trunk?"
"Letters from my Nicky," I smile proudly. "I'll show them to you someday."
...
At the store, I remember what it was that I forgot to tell him. I smile. "Oh yeah, we might be here for a while," I giggle while looking for a parking space.
"And why is that?"
"I’m never out of the grocery store in under two hours. I like to wander."
"And that’s why you didn’t mind me coming along?"
I pull into a space, park the car, and put my hands into the air in mock guilt. "You caught me," I smile. This gets a laugh out of him. I swear, this man is beautiful inside and out.
...
True to my word, Howie and I are spending a whole lot of time in the supermarket. We’ve already been here for two hours and we’re nowhere near being finished. I guess he likes to wander as much as I do. We pick up a few things from the list and have about another page left. What can I say; Nicky likes to eat. We wander into the dried foods aisle. You know where I’m talking about; it’s that aisle with the bag-it-yourself foods like dried apples and there’s, like, chocolate covered peanuts and stuff like that there. Almost every supermarket has them, I’m sure of it. Maybe it’s just my imagination. Anyways, when we are sure no one is looking, we "sample" from the bins that look tempting. Although he claims he swore off of them, he puts a bag a gummy bears in the cart. I fill a bag of sunflower seeds for myself. For this, he calls me "Birdbrain." This will be my nickname for the rest of the day or until he wants to stop calling me it.
...
Finally, we’re finished with our shopping. This is a new record for me; I have successfully spent three and a half hours wandering the supermarket. Howie keeps good company. We load up my car, trunk and backseat, and I start the engine. I pull out of the spot and make my way down the aisle. I stop at the stop sign and a cold chill washes over me. Howie asks what the problem is. My face has fallen pale and my hands are trembling. "What’s wrong, Lore?" he asks.
I close my eyes. I pull in my breath sharply. Momentary flashback. "Three of my friends died in an accident right here." I don’t know why I chose to exit this way and now I wish I hadn’t. I usually take another way out. I haven’t been here since they died two years ago. In fact, there’s still some blood on the pavement, a stain that never faded. I never turn to look at him. He takes my shaking hand.
"Honey doll," he whispers and reaches his free hand towards my face. He makes me look him in the eye. "They’re in a better place now and you know that."
I’m on the verge of tears. I know this whole ordeal may seem hard to believe to you, my reader, but it is very traumatizing for me. It’s like... Alright, I don’t know of any way better to explain it than the way it happened: I was in the car right behind them. I was heading back to my house; they were helping me move out and were on the way back to another house for dinner. I saw the car speeding towards them before she, my friend, did. I saw the car hit their car. I pulled the girl in the back seat-my best friend-out through the window. I haven’t been to this spot since that day and I swear I can feel them here. I guess it’s something about closure or something like that; I’m not sure. More than likely, you'll hear more of this story in parts to come, my faithful reader.
...
Back at the house, Howie helps with the unloading of the groceries and them collapses into one of the kitchen chairs. He motions for me to sit with him. I do and before I get a chance to ask him what’s up, he speaks. "Wanna tell me about your friends?" I open my mouth to tell him the story, but the rest of the guys return home and I decide to keep my mouth shut. Nick really is good for some things. Each is carrying two large shopping bags, with the exception of AJ. He has to outdo them all. He’s carrying six. All the guys chat things up for a while, but I’m basically in my own world. I hear Nick mumble something to the effect of "food" and all the guys agree. It’s nearly seven in the evening and Nick is always hungry. He makes a mad dash for the refrigerator, followed closely by Brian. I hear Nick beginning to whine. He’s tired and doesn’t want to make his own food.
I sigh, stand, and make my way towards the two. "Out of my kitchen," I command. I receive blank stares. "You heard me, move out. I’m cooking tonight." The five leave the kitchen and I set about to my newest task. I am honestly not in the mood for company. I figure they’ll chat for a bit while I cook, we’ll eat (although I’m not very hungry), watch some television, and I’ll head off to bed early. I rummage through the full cabinets, refrigerator, and freezer before deciding to make the one thing that I cook that Nick absolutely loves: my Chicken Parmesan and spaghetti. This should take a good forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of solitude, provided that any of the five do not disturb me. To ensure this, I make some iced tea, pour it into glasses, and deliver the tray of drinks into the living room. "Now, no one is allowed into my kitchen until dinner is done. Any one that does not comply will promptly be shot," I grin and return. I’m only halfway joking. Tonight is one night that I wish I were alone.
I begin making dinner and do this almost mechanically. My best friend is finally in town with a group of his very good looking friends and all I want to do is be alone. I almost wish that he didn’t come back yet. If he didn’t come back, I wouldn’t be feeling the way I do now. Howie got me thinking about the accident. He got me thinking too much. If they never showed up, I wouldn’t be feeling this way because no one would have brought it up. I would just be curled up in the solitude of the back seat of my car, reading a book by flashlight. Maybe it’s for the best that I’m finally thinking about the accident. It happened nearly two years ago but I never talked about it or let the feelings out. Maybe this visit is a blessing in disguise.
