ABOUT: Once again, a story based on a song. Usually I suffer from writer's block, and it's only broken by certain songs that start my imagination. Anyway, this one's by Ben Folds Five. It's about what the song is about. Simple as that. Click here for more stories.
Brick
The alarm clock screeched in my ear for what seemed like a good five minutes before I finally rolled over and opened my eyes. Squinting, I saw the numbers 6:00 glaring at me. I sat up in bed, my eyes falling on the wrinkled calendar on the wall, the date December 26th circled in red. That’s today, the day after Christmas. I pull myself out of bed and, after a bit of stumbling around the darkness of the room, I manage to throw on some random clean clothes.
Outside, the air smells like cold and stings my nose. The windows of my car are slightly frosted, and the leather seat causes me to cringe and shiver as I slide into it. I drive through the dim streets, and see no sign of life. Everyone is home in bed. Of course they are, it’s a Sunday and the day after Christmas. Not to mention the cold. The world’s asleep, and I’m awake. Awake and numb.
I finally reach her apartment building and begin the long climb up the three flights of stairs. They stretch on forever in front of me, endless. The mildewed walls make the air of the stairway almost suffocating. One of the flights smells of old milk and new diapers. I reach the three creaky stairs in a row, signaling to me that I have reached her floor. Down the hall to the left, and around a corner, her apartment is the first on the right. I knock gently, but get no answer. So, quietly, I twist the handle and push open the door, surprised that it’s unlocked.
She’s balled up on the couch, arms wrapped around her body. She’s wearing a plain blue sweater, a pair of khakis, and some old, well-worn sneakers. Her blonde hair hangs over her eyes, hiding the features on her sleeping face. I close the door softly behind me, and step towards the couch, reaching out a hand to gently shake her from her sleep.
Her parents went to spend Christmas with some relatives in North Carolina, so they’re not home to know what’s going on. The two of us get into my car and drive. The silence hangs thick in the air, and makes me feel sickeningly alone. It’s not like I ever meant for this to happen. It was a stupid mistake. But she pulls me down with her so easily, like a brick tied to my foot.
At 7:30, her name is called. Rather than continue sitting in the stuffy waiting room, I head out to the parking lot and pace. At least if I pace, I don’t start to freeze to death. Besides, my mind is racing. Suddenly, I remembered the florist down the street. Grabbing a few things from my car first, I walk down to the modest little flower shop. After buying her a bouquet full of daisies and carnations, I head over to the pawn shop. I manage to get a decent amount of money for the gifts I bought her back when we first found out. Back before she decided she didn’t want it.
I didn’t want her to make this decision. It’s tearing her apart, but I don’t want her to think she’s doing it for me. She just feels alone, I think. But she doesn’t know how bad she drags me down. I wanted that kid so bad, and she wouldn’t let me have it. She thought she was doing me a favor, but all she was doing was drowning me the way she blamed me for it all.
Weeks went by, and it started to become obvious that she wasn’t as ok as she had said. She called me one day, sounding highly concerned, asking me to go to her parents’ house. I knew already that she had told them, or they had an idea. When I arrived, her father told me to tell the truth about what happened while they were away. She broke down, crying hysterically. I broke down as well. I was tired of lying and hiding it. I wanted everyone to know that I could have been a daddy, but she took it away from me.
After that ordeal, I drove her back to her apartment. The ride was silent; we were alone together for the first time since that morning in December. But it was then that I understood. We were alone. I was alone and she was alone. Things were never going to be the same.
I never saw her again after I dropped her off at home that afternoon. We both knew it was coming. A stupid mistake, on both of our parts, that should have pulled us closer together only succeeded in pushing us apart. I was drowning slowly because of her. She’s a brick, and I’m drowning slowly.