Thursday Evening

A/N~ Hopefully, I'll be able to update on Wednesday. After that, I've got NaNoEdMo, which will steal my writer-y soul until April. Somehow, 50 hours seems more daunting than 50k words.

DrkDreamer: Neither has AIDS. It's implied that (at least) Jon has had an STD of some kind, because he got himself tested, and Jon ruled out Andrew being sick because he himself was "not very" [sick]. We can say that it was the clap to allude to A Farewell to Arms, though. Except that both of the characters have a personality. But I'll shut up before I rant.

Anyway, considering I'm about to start editing that novel, any tips/criticism on my writing is greatly encouraged.

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We were at the restaurant. The same dinky fast food place that I had been before. I knew that I could have resisted. I could have simply not given him the information, left him in the dark. But I was too kind. No. It was more accurate to say that I could not deny him this. Not after what it had cost him, once.

Sara angered me more than I like to admit. Talking about her made me want to punch things, or do so many push-ups that my arms felt like noodles. Though she makes me so angry, I’m here, trying to be perfect. Trying to be the hero, but he doesn’t need me to be the hero, at least, not yet. He’s too excited. He’s trying to make me happy. Trying, and failing.

I like this change in him, though. It had once been impossible to see him smile so much. It’s happening more often, but it’s a change. He seems giddy and I wish I could say that he’s like this all the time when he’s with me, but he’s not.

Every time a girl comes in, he straightens, and tenses, but just for that moment. That one moment that it takes for the girl to ignore us, and get food instead. I want her to not show. Or if she shows, I want her at her absolute worst, so I can prove I’m right, and that so he will see that she shouldn’t be in his life. Our life. I feel slightly bad, but I know why. I don’t want to vie for his affection. Not against her, at least.

My hopes are destroyed as she enters, though. She’s smiling at me, as if she was expecting me to take her up on her previous offer. I don’t know how, but at the same time, she looks disgusted at the sight of her brother.

She snarls her questions, as if her brother was some horrible thing that should not be talked to, and if he must, then, an angry tone must be used to compensate.

She asks if he has the “gay disease”. That’s how she phrases it, like we’re back in the 80s. Not 2007. He explains, calmly, rationally, though some of his enthusiasm is gone, that he’s healthy. He’d gotten into the habit of not eating much, so he could send money.

A part of me wonders if he still sent it, but that question is answered as soon as it enters my mind. She starts shouting that her parents didn’t want the “whore” money, and I’m suddenly aware that people are staring. He’s losing his composure, I can tell. But I’ve had enough, and I’ve had enough for a while. I tell her to stop yelling, and I tell him that I’ll be outside.

I’m outside for a few minutes, standing against the building, longing for a cigarette if they’re half as good at alleviating stress as the movies suggest. He comes out, looking as angry as I feel.

I don’t bother asking, and he doesn’t bother explaining.

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I was worried and excited all at the same time. I was worried that Jon spoke the truth, and that she wasn’t worth it. But I was still excited. I couldn’t imagine my little sister doing that. Being underneath some fat slob, pretending that she liked it. Being screwed like that. But until that happened to me, she probably thought that could not happen to me, either.

I didn’t know why Jon would lie, though, and that worried me, too. Though I knew that he wouldn’t do it, he wasn’t that cruel, I kept on thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was fine, and he just wanted to keep me to himself. But he wasn’t like that. If he was, he wouldn’t be here, next to me, looking annoying, and worried, and not himself. But he was here, and that was more than I could have expected from anyone else I had met in my life until I met him.

I squeeze his hand under the table. He squeezes back. He’s not mad at me; I know that.

My sister entered after what seemed like an eternity. I didn’t recognize her. It’d been a couple years, but she had changed, and none of it looked good. She almost scared me. I wondered how we could go down the same path and end up so different. It couldn’t all be Jon’s influence.

Before I know it, she’s standing in front of me, calling me a whore. Like I had had all the opportunity in the world, yet I’d chosen that. But I’d done that for her. So she could eat. I’m more hurt than I let on. I wonder if Jon can tell that I’m disappointed. That my enthusiasm’s gone.

More talking and she’s still saying that she hates me. She says that the drunks had to move because of me. Jon gets up to leave, telling us to keep it down, and that he’ll be outside when I’ve come to my senses. But I’ve come to them already.

As soon as he leaves:

“I’d fuck him. I’d suck him off. For free. Think he’d accept?” I almost vomit at her words. I couldn’t stomach the thought of her with him. I tell her that her new fantasy isn’t going to happen. I tell her that he’s mine. Suddenly, she’s the one who looks disgusted, and straightens, getting ready to tell me off. I brace myself for the renewed attack.

“I hope he breaks your heart, and that you realize that only a man and a woman belong together. And that when he comes around to the right side, that he chooses me.”

I didn’t listen after that. I realized now, that the only reason it was worth it, all those nights, all those guys, the *only* reason it was worth it was for Jon. I wouldn’t have met him otherwise. But the real reason was not worth it. The real reason had never been worth it.

I feel dirty again.

I leave, shouting that he was the best thing that ever happened to me. He’s waiting outside, looking patient. I’m staring at him in a different light, somehow. Like I realize how much he means to me.