Beyond The Ideal (Chapter 3)

The next two days were the worst days I'd ever had up to that point in my life. Anthony kept catching me alone, and whenever I tried to avoid him for a while my cellphone would start ringing. I knew better than to ignore him, because the one time I had, he hit me again and told me that next time he'd tell my brother all about what a 'sick little slut' I was. I really had no idea what to do, because every solution I could think of wouldn't really work to my satisfaction. I could tell someone what he was doing, but it was just as likely that they wouldn't believe me, especially since I didn't really have any noticeable marks on me from where he'd hit me, and even if they did, he could just tell everyone anyways as revenge. Things just seemed hopeless.

A couple of times Eric tried to get me alone to talk to me, but I always managed to get away before he asked me what was wrong with me. I didn't want to lie to him, but I definitely wasn't going to risk telling my best friend about the whole terrible situation. The sad part was, it wasn't even because I thought he'd react badly to my liking guys or something; it was because I was ashamed of myself. The whole situation had taken away my dignity, and I didn't know what to do with myself. Still, he'd managed to make me promise to go to his party, and I was looking forward to it, especially since I could avoid Tony and he probably wouldn't say much since it would be suspicious if I didn't go to my best friend's party.

Saturday came, and it was terrible. Anthony just didn't leave me alone. Ironically, he seemed to be enjoying the whole affair even more now. He got more pointlessly cruel every time I saw him, making little cracks at how dirty I was, and saying how he'd really like to tell people about me, just to watch me get worried. It's amazing just how fast you can go from loving somebody to hating them. It's also amazing how fast you can become accustomed to a routine, even if you don't like it.

I was really starting to sink into a depression, as if that wasn't obvious. Two things really helped me though: First, all of my anger at Anthony gave me something to focus on aside from my own faults. I kept having recurring fantasies about terrible things happening to him, like a car losing control and hitting him, or a thousand other very creative scenarios in which he was horribly injured. It actually helped me get through it, because I wasn't guiltily enjoying anything about the arrangement; The fun went out of it when I started hating him. The other thing helping me was the promise that Eric's party would be a welcome reprieve. I still had no clue what I was going to do after that, but it didn't register because I was living each day for the Sunday coming, and I had no thoughts for the future right then. The idea that Monday would be as bad as the week I'd just endured was too much to even consider.

Finally, Sunday came, and I actually felt animated and happy. I took my shower, took the time to choose clothes that would look good on me, and I was out the door and knocking on Eric's. Some friend of his from school answered, and I saw that he already had people there helping him set up. I felt a little bad about not volunteering to do that myself, but the week hadn't given me much free time where I felt like doing anything at all. I helped put a few things away so they wouldn't get broken, then just sat around playing Playstation2 for a while until the party actually got started. Eric walked in (he'd left his brother in charge, but I hadn't seen him so far) with a bunch of people and a lot of beer in tow. It was pretty close to 8pm (I woke up late, what can I say?) and by that time a pretty large number of people had showed up, so Eric started passing out the drinks and rolling joints. I watched everyone around me for a while, enjoying the chance to relax until Eric pushed his way over to me with the bottle of Goldschlaugher we'd bought the week before. Without a word, he poured us each a shot and we downed them at the same time. The stuff really did taste like cinnamon hearts, and I really dug that, so I poured another one. Eric smiled wide, took another one for himself, and left me alone with the bottle. Some random people I barely knew from school sat down with me at different times and carried on polite conversations, which got more interesting as they got more drunk. I was having fun, especially when I realized how happy and carefree the booze was making me. Just then, the party died.

I felt a vibration from my sweater, and realized my cellphone was ringing. I knew who it would be, so I walked outside to answer. It kept ringing, kind of ominously, so finally I answered it.

"Hello?" I yelled into the receiver, trying to hear over the noise blaring from the house.

"I want you here, now," came my answer, not only confirming that it was Anthony, but serving to infuriate me too. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the way he'd treated me all week, but something inside of me snapped.

"Yeah? And I want you dead, looks like neither of us gets what we want huh? Seriously, I'm through with you, and I don't care what you say you're gonna do to me, fuck you asshole." The words came pouring out of me, and my voice got louder until I was yelling really loud. I felt drained, and when I turned around Alex was standing at the door, looking at me a little stunned as if he didn't know what to do. I said hello in a very subdued voice and hurried into the house past him, back to the party.

I felt like shit, and I was really scared of what Anthony would do to me despite what I'd said to him, so I did the only thing I could think of doing that would make me feel better: I partied. I took another 2 shots of the goldschlaugher, and a shot of someone else's vodka, which wasn't as good, and then I found a bunch of people in the other room sitting around some scary kind of bong that was bigger than a coffee table. I had no idea how someone managed to get that to Eric's house, but I wasn't asking questions, especially after seeing Eric signal me over next to him to try it out. After a minute or two of Eric droning on about how to take hits off it properly, I tried it, and I didn't feel anything really, so I tried again. This time, apparently I overdid it, because next thing I knew I was coughing like hell, and Eric was hitting my back, not really helping very much. After another few times trying it, I was definitely feeling pretty good, but I was having a hard time breathing with all the smoke, so I went back to the living room.

Everyone was either mellowed out or really hyper at this point, and I was talking to people I didn't know as if they were my best friends. Of course, they were talking to me the same way, and I was appreciating what alcohol could to for one's social life. I sat down and poured some shots of the goldschlaugher, which was about 3 quarters done (not mostly from me but enough). I was taking one when Alex sat down next to me.

"Buddy, don't you think maybe you should slow down a bit?" he asked, looking amused but maybe a tiny bit worried at the same time. I considered what he was saying, but the liquor and the drugs were making me feel great, and I didn't want to sober up anytime soon.

"I'm fine okay? Just having a good time," I said, nodding at him before taking yet another one. They went down so easily. He gave me another look, and walked off without a word. Right away, someone replaced him, and soon I was drinking with the guy and laughing a little too much at the funny stories he was telling me. I knew I'd probably find him annoying sober, but he was good company drunk.

I finished the last of the bottle, and got up because by then I had to piss like a champ. The floor kept moving around on me though, and I fell back on the couch. The guy sitting with me (I think his name was Corey) started laughing at me, and I felt embarassed and angry at myself, and him for being an asshole. I tried again, this time successfully, even though I felt dizzy and overwhelmed. I managed to get to the bathroom, close the door, and take my piss before I had to sit down again. I put the toilet seat down and sat there, with my head in my hands, wishing for the dizziness to go away. I think I felt sort of sick, but luckily I didn't feel the need to throw up. I felt miserable though. I don't know how long I was in there for, but eventually the door opened and Alex came in, looking surprised.

"Are you alright? Did you have too much to drink or something?" He sounded concerned, but I didn't want to talk just then, so when I felt him put his arm under my armpit and lift, I got up with him. I had a really hard time getting up the stairs, which is where he seemed intent on bringing me, but we made it, and it took me a minute to realize we weren't headed towards Eric's room.

"This isn't Eric's room," was the smartest thing I could think of saying, and I'm pretty sure I slurred it a little.

"No, it's my room, a bunch of idiots are smoking in there and you don't need that right now," he answered me firmly, sitting me on his bed. The walls were full of color, but I couldn't focus on anything, so I just looked at him as he resumed interrogating me.

"How much did you have to drink?" he asked. I tried to recall how much I'd had, but between the bottle I'd bought, and bits of other peoples' booze, I couldn't give him a decisive amount.

"Okay then, why did you drink That much goldschlaugher anyways?" I think I mumbled something about Eric suggesting it, and liking the taste. The look on his face didn't make it look like he agreed with me.

"Eric's an idiot, especially knowing you don't even drink.. for fuck's sakes, why were you even drinking like that anyways?" Alex seemed pretty angry, and I was feeling increasingly bad, while trying to get used to how the walls were still spinning around.

"I had a really bad week, I'm sorry," I blurted out, feeling a need to apologize for some reason.

"Really, how bad could the week have been? You're in high school, you live at home, what kind of problems are bad enough to make you make a fool of yourself like this?" He had this sarcastic tone to his voice that made me feel like a little kid, and it made me feel even worse than the booze. I kept blinking, trying to stop it, but the tears started pouring from my eyes and the feeling of shame was utterly complete. His face softened, and he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, I'm sorry, look I didn't mean to be an asshole to you, I'm just angry 'cause Eric's off partying while his best friend looks like he's about to die.." He was trailing off, and I was feeling more ashamed than ever because I knew I deserved anything him or anyone else had to say to me.

"No, it Is my fault, Eric's trying to have fun and I'm just ruining the party for you because I thought getting drunk would make me feel better, and it obviously didn't, and I'm really sorry.." I was trying to think of what to say next, but he spoke first.

"Is this about that phone call you had outside before?" he asked, looking like he was concentrating. I thought back to the phone call and everything started coming back to me, how I'd talked to Anthony, and what he'd do to get me back. I felt the tears coming back, and this time I didn't even try stopping them. I couldn't help myself, I felt sick, confused, guilty, ashamed, and Alex actually seemed genuinely concerned.

I told him everything, while still crying, rocking back and forth, the whole bit. When I got to how Anthony'd threatened me, his jaw tightened, and when I finished, he pulled me over and hugged me.

"So, Tony's been forcing you to do things?" he asked, in a really neutral tone.

"Yeah.. but don't call him Tony, I'll never call him Tony ever again.." I mumbled into his arm. I felt a little better until he got up, but it was only to get another pillow for me.

"You can sleep in here tonight alright? I'm not letting you go home in this condition, especially if.. Anthony's there," he told me, sitting on the bed.

"Thank you.. um.. could you stay in here for a bit?" I asked, feeling more childish than ever, but knowing that I'd feel worse again if he left.

"Yeah, don't worry about it.. I'll be here," he said, laying down behind me and putting his arm around me. I felt a lot better, and closed my eyes, letting the spinning of the room subside and lull me to sleep.

I woke up at some point in the middle of the night, worried, but he was still there, so I laid there for a while, enjoying the night, but knowing it would get worse in the morning. I found myself wondering what Alex thought of me now that he knew all about what I'd been doing. I'd never been very close with him before apart from a casual friendship, and now he knew more about me than his brother, my best friend since I could remember. Eventually I fell asleep again, and thankfully I didn't wake up again until morning this time.