The sound of crashing dishes drew my attention to the small kitchen. Ayden threw another dirty plate into the sink, adding to the growing pile of filth from days' worth of neglect. It was his turn to sort out the mess, but I had a feeling he didn't give a shit.
"I have a shoot today," he said, not even sparing me a glance as he opened the fridge. Weak fluorescent light from inside enhanced his sharp features and cold gray eyes. He stepped back and chugged juice directly from the carton, knowing full well that it would provoke me.
I gripped the armrest of the dark leather sofa to calm down. I didn't know why he purposely kept annoying me, and I no longer wanted to know. Our friendship was falling apart, plunging into the depths with nothing to slow the decline along the way. If it didn't stop soon, we would hit rock bottom.
Slowly letting go of tension, I tried to sound unaffected. "Cool, see you later then."
It didn't work.
"You know, if you hate living with me so much, why don't you move out, Cal?" The challenge lingered in the air, crackling with tension.
It required effort to keep silent, but it wasn't a question I wanted to answer. No matter what I replied, it would only make the situation worse. I rose from the sofa, turned my back, and fled into my small bedroom. The door closed behind me with a soft click. It was an unsatisfactory sound considering how angry I was, but I had no intention of lashing out and ruining whatever we had left. Move out. Apparently, 17 years as best friends didn't amount to much, after all.
I wasn't sure why our friendship was disintegrating, or if there was any particular event that had started our descent—it just happened. Perhaps it was normal. Perhaps we had been through too much together. At one point, people are destined to abandon you. I just hadn't thought it would happen like this.
To make matters more complicated, we lived together in an apartment a couple of blocks away from college. Consisting of two tiny bedrooms and a living room with just enough space for a sofa, it didn't feel much larger than a shoe box, which meant we saw too much of each other.
Gripping the chilly windowsill with numb fingers, I stared out over the cityscape. No matter how tiny the apartment was, it was hard to complain with a view like this. The city seemed to go on forever, a jungle of concrete, steel and glass. A haven for those who didn't know what else to look for. I'd never lived close to nature, and I couldn't imagine ever pining for trees and endless plains. No, the apartment was perfect. It even had a kitchen I didn't have to share with five others. Despite being cramped in a corner, the kitchen was still my favorite spot—at least when it was clean.
Ayden owned the place, and I was practically freeloading, which meant that he had every right to question why I remained. I was pretty sure he was waiting for me to pack my bags even if he'd never said anything to my face before. Glancing over my shoulder, I made a quick survey of my stuff. How much would I want to bring with me if I left?
The bookshelf wasn't much to look at. It held a few photos I would bring—captured moments with my mom and dad before they separated. I had a chair that usually held a good portion of my clothes that I couldn't bother place in the closet or the hamper, but it had seen enough wear and tear over the last few years and might as well stay behind. Who knew how much stuff I'd be able to bring anyway.
If my relationship with Jessica had been better, I might have moved in with her, but we weren't ready for that kind of commitment. More and more, it felt like something was missing, some crucial part that I couldn't put my finger on. I'd wanted to break it off between us, but it seemed unfair to cut ties before I could explain what was wrong.
Allowing my shoulders to fall, I watched pedestrians below go about their business as if the world was doing just fine. They seemed perfectly content with their lives, but perhaps they carried burdens as well. It was hard to tell when all they said was 'I'm fine, thanks', never telling the truth because they feared they would be judged. I'm fine. I wondered how many times I'd said that to Ayden, and how many times he'd said the exact same thing back.
I focused on my reflection in the glass. It was faint, but I could still see my unruly dark hair against the light background. I didn't bother running my hand through the tangles since it wouldn't make much of a difference. When we were kids, Ayden used to ruffle his own hair into a mess if someone said anything about mine. Uncomplicated days, even though my childhood had been far from shiny and bright. One part of me longed to go back just to have that Ayden by my side.
I sat on the bed and leaned against the cold concrete wall. Heavy gray clouds hovered low in the sky, seemingly ready to open up and soak everything below. It was a day to stay inside and wallow in this awful mood. Not that it would make anything better.
A few minutes later, I started as Ayden slammed the front door with more than enough anger for both of us. Closing my eyes, I tried to block the freight train of frustration. I didn't know how to repair this, or even where to start. Something was wrong, but I wasn't sure if it went beyond our failing friendship. Ayden seemed distant, but more or less fine. He was doing his shoots—whatever that meant—and he partied, studied and went to his classes just like any other guy in college. He wouldn't want me to worry and would snap if I told him that I did.
My phone blinked with a welcomed distraction. I snatched it from the windowsill and read the message from Jessica.
Hi baby, I'm bored! Can I come over? xx
I felt nothing beyond my frustration. Seeing her in this mood wouldn't end well.
Jessica and I had met nine months ago, embarking on a relationship that had no destination, and the journey together wasn't even pretty anymore. It didn't help that Ayden hated her guts, or that she hated him just as much.
I wrote back.
Sorry J, busy today.
The reply was instant.
You always say that :(
There was always guilt. It never truly left.
I said I was sorry.
I knew there would be another reply, but I dropped the phone, lay down on the comforter and stared at the ceiling. The white paint was cracking, forming little flakes that I had to pick up from the floor now and then. It wasn't perfect, but nothing in my life ever was.
I'd just closed my eyes when my phone rang. I began to swipe to cut the call but stopped when I didn't recognize the number. I thought it would be Jessica, but it clearly wasn't. Bored as I was, I decided to answer.
"Yeah," I said.
"Cal, I forgot my phone at the apartment. Could you?" He almost sounded apologetic. Almost.
"Is it really that important, Ayden? I'm having a date with my bed."
"I wouldn't have called otherwise."
I closed my eyes and held back a sigh. We were supposed to be friends, after all, and I didn't need to fuck it up more than we already had.
"Where?"
"The corner of Westbridge and Field Street. It's a large black door. They'll let you in if you say my name."
"I'm on my way," I replied and closed the call. He could say 'Thank you' later.
