TW - panic attack
Chapter 15
“Shit, man! You weren’t joking about being good at this,” I laugh, watching as Chester does an over the top bow after getting yet another strike. “It’s all in the wrist movement. Want me to show you?” He says gallantly, pulling me up from my seat and grabbing a bowling ball. “How’s this one for weight?” Chester asks, dropping it into my hands.
“Pretty light…is it better to use a heavier or lighter one?”
Chester just stares at me before shrugging. “No clue. I normally just find one I like the feel of and then have a go. I have no idea about the actual theory behind bowling,” he says with a small smile. Feeling the bowling ball in my hands, I decide to go with this one. I mean Chester gave it to me and supposed to be a pro at this, right? So I’ll trust his judgement. Even if apparently he doesn’t really know what he’s doing either.
“Yep and hold it in your dominant hand, angle your wrist like this,” Chester explains, standing behind me and gently moving my hands for me.
Now I’ve always thought that Chester is kind of small. Scrawny and short, but I guess that’s just because I’m constantly comparing him to Jeremiah and the other guys. Who are all crazy in to spots, whereas Chester really isn’t. But I suddenly realise that he isn’t the tiny dude I originally thought - sure, he’s shorter than me, but so are most people. And yeah I have a tiny bit more muscle than him due to playing sports, but still. With Chester right behind me, it begins to occur to me that he’s just a very different body type. This whole time, I’ve been kind of unconsciously comparing a boxer to a runner, when they are so clearly such different body types. Chester is just much more…I don’t know, lithe maybe?
“Avi? You good?” He asks, his hand landing to rest on my back.
Holy shit.
I need to stop thinking about Chester’s body, I mean this is a seventeen year old kid. Stop it. It doesn’t matter that I’m only like thirteen or fourteen months older than him - I’m not going to be creepy about this.
Yeah but he’s kind of really attractive…
“Zoned out,” I mumble, gripping the bowling ball hard. Chester stands up on his tiptoes, whispering in my ear “well start focusing, then.”
I will never be able to concentrate again.
Dammit, Chester.
Who gave him permission to be so- so handsome and cute and hot and cool and impressive and clever and sweet and brave and kind?
Chester places his hand over mine, guiding me until I let the bowling ball go, watching together as it rolls towards the pins. It hits down most of them - easily better than anything I’ve done this evening. I was hitting maybe two if I was lucky, but I feel really lucky to have been so close to Chester- no stop it, I remind myself, clearing my throat awkwardly and taking a step away from him. Chester just smiles innocently, like he didn’t keep touching my back or my arms or my hands for no real apparent reason.
Not like I hated the contact. God, far from it. But Chester doesn’t need to know that.
“Getting a bit handsy,” I mumble as explanation, expecting to hear Chester apologies or something but instead he just smiles teasingly. “Oh you didn’t like it? I must have completely misunderstood how you literally tried to lean back into my arms just now.”
Fuck. Did I? Probably.
“I was just um. You know. Fancying a hug?” I squeak out, wanting to throw myself down the bowling alley in hopes of escaping the awkwardness. Chester continues to smile, taking a step towards me and holding his arms out. “Go on then.”
This cheeky little bugger.
Forcing my awkwardness down, I take his invitation, wrapping my arms around Chester in a tight squeeze. And then I let go and back away quickly. “Cool. Well now that’s done it’s your turn again,” I try and sound unfazed but honestly I’m not sure it works at all.
—————
After bowling, Chester drove us back to his house for dinner, and then Sam was adamant on coming to pick me up. The car ride home was completely silent, except for when Sam asked me if I had a nice time. I did.
But the moment we step through the front door to Sam and Joyce’s house, I can feel the shitty atmosphere. I glance over at Sam, silently asking him with my eyes what’s wrong. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Joyce is upset. I suggest you just…go to your room. She might not want to see you.”
And there it is. This whole time, I’ve just been waiting for Joyce to finally snap again, and it seems like now is that time. Taking a deep breath, I nod, stepping past Sam to go towards the stairs.
“Sam? Is that you?” Joyce’s voice filters through from the kitchen, but I don’t even freeze, instead just heading straight up the stairs. Sam clears his throat, still standing at the bottom of the stairs; in front of them, specifically. A little protectively.
“Joyce! I’m back,” he says awkwardly, and I watch from the top of the stairs as Joyce walks towards her husband, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re back. Did he have a nice time?” She asks, a hint of venom in her voice.
Stepping further down the upstairs hall so as to not be seen by Joyce, I turn my hearing aids up to listen to whatever shit Joyce has to say.
“Yes, Avi had a great time. We’re going to have a nice evening just the two of us now aren’t we?” Sam asks calmly, hugging Joyce and stroking her back. Chewing on my lips, I grip my hands together tightly.
“Yes, that sounds lovely. God sometimes I wish we’d never taken him in…”
I shouldn’t flinch at that. I should know by now, but it still hurts.
“Joyce, you don’t mean that,” Sam replies, but honestly he barely sounds convinced of that himself. Joyce huffs, pulling back from the hug. “Yes, I do. He’s such a free-loader, even stealing our precious time together like this as well. I know we promised to take care of him if anything happened, but…I mean they’re dead so they won’t know if we just pass him on to someone else, right? He’s already eighteen, we could easily just get rid of him,” Joyce complains.
With every word she speaks, a rancid feeling spreads through my gut. Standing up quickly, I run the rest of the way to my room, pushing the door closed and sitting down against it, my breathing speeding up faster and faster, the sound corrosive to my ears. Pulling my hearing aids out, I throw them away from me, hiding my face in my hands as my throat closes us around a thick lump of despair, before spilling out all at once.
I’m so busy choking, once again, on my tears and vomit and all that fun stuff that I don’t notice the door being pushed open behind me until Sam’s arms are wrapped around my waist, trying to calm me down once again.
I shouldn’t have listened in. I should have just gone to my room like Sam said. I was always waiting for Joyce to snap again, but why now? What happened? What went wrong? Haven’t I been trying enough? I’ve been trying so hard to get better, I don’t- I don’t know what I did wrong.
‘You’re just so fucking pathetic. Can’t do a single thing right, so you might as well just kill yourself and get out of our way.’
I vaguely register Sam saying something, but without my hearing aids in I don’t have a clue what the words are, and besides I’m too busy listening to all the voices and memories in my head instead…
It takes me a long time to calm down.
The quiet helps at least though.
The silence once my breathing calms down, and when Sam gives up on trying to talk. With everything so muted, at least I have a little bit of…solace, amidst the cacophony of my own head.
Why is it always just as I’m beginning to do well that something has to go wrong?
Why does everything always have to be ruined?
But then again, nothing good is built to last.
Comments (38)
See all