Page 135 of The Blessing

chapter 46

wish you were here

The quietness of the night is disconcerting as it clashes with the rage still brewing inside of me. The only sounds I hear are the unforgiving January winds and the faint rattling of cars as they pass the streets outside of Travis’s neighborhood. I inhale the cold air and fizzle out slightly as it burns my lungs. I haven’t smoked in months, but the harsh chill fucking stings as if I just lit up a few moments ago.

I’m relieved to find Travis’s car parked in his driveway. For some reason, I was fearing he would skip town and avoid facing me. Giving me some sort of closure is the very least this fucker can do. After all that has happened, after all the shit he’s done, he owes me that much. I want an explanation. I want to know what the hell he was thinking when he drove away and left my brother for dead. I want to know what happened to the man I thought he fucking was. I don’t know if that man was a figment of my imagination, a romanticized version of him, or someone who died a long fucking time ago.

Taking a deep breath, I roll up my window and hop out of my truck, crossing the street and walking up the sidewalk to get to Travis’s home. I parked by an oak tree down the street, hoping he wouldn’t see my truck and decide to lock himself inside his house, hiding like a fucking coward. An older woman, who I assume is his neighbor, gives me a horrified look as I approach his house.

“Mind your own fucking business,” I mumble beneath my breath as I pass her by.

I know I look fucking horrendous; I don’t need a fucking mirror to know that. My face is bruised from where I hit myself. I’ve been crying like a little bitch for the past few hours, and my bloody, injured hand is wrapped up with a dirty cloth. Add to that the ugly scar over my left eye and the numerous tattoos I have, and I don’t look like someone you want venturing into your neighborhood at night. The older woman saunters off, looking horrified. I hope she doesn’t call the cops on me. That’s the last thing I need. I need to settle things with Travis, then go home to my family and sort my shit out. I don’t need to be locked up for the night.

I approach Travis’s house, preparing to bang on the front door and yell until he opens up, but I’m surprised to find it slightly ajar. I pause for a moment, wondering if he really did skip town in a hurry because this shit isn’t like him. Well, this shit isn’t like the Travis I thought I knew; I don’t know who the hell he is anymore. He used to be so fucking anal about everything. Not the type to leave his front door open for anyone to walk the fuck in. I cautiously push the door all the way open and enter, almost expecting him to be standing in the foyer waiting for me. He’s not.

“Travis!” I call out as I slam the front door behind me to announce my arrival.

There’s no answer. He must be fucking hiding from me like the coward is. Not wanting to own up to the shit he was too afraid to tell me before. Just thinking about him locking himself up in his bedroom and avoiding me makes me livid. He was too much of a fucking pussy to save my brother, and he’s too much of a pussy now to own up to it. He’s a far cry from the man I once thought he was. Hell, he’s not even similar to the man I used to know.

“Are you seriously going to fucking hide from me, Travis? After everything we’ve fucking been through together… everything you’ve done… You’re going to fucking hide from me!?” I call out, becoming more and more enraged with every step I take.

I make my way down the hallway toward his bedroom. It’s the only room with light shining out from under the door. A mirthless laugh escapes my lips. He’s really going to hide in his bedroom like the rat bastard he is? How disgusting. I want him to tell me the truth while he looks me in the face. I want him to look me straight in the eye and confess his guilty actions. I don’t want excuses. I don’t want any tears. I just want to hear him utter the words he’s avoided for so long.

“Travis!?” I call out again as I reach for the doorknob to open the door. It’s fucking locked and my anger skyrockets. I continue to turn the doorknob anyway, hoping the rattling will shake him up enough to man the fuck up and open the door for me. It doesn’t take long for me to realize that isn’t going to happen. So, I let go of the knob and begin kicking the door, smiling as it dents under the heel of my boot. The damage I dish out on the door feels fucking incredible. Releasing some of the pent-up rage that’s been bottled up inside of me is blissful, so I kick until the dent in the door transforms into a gaping hole.

I feel like Jack fucking Torrance as I quickly duck down to get a look inside his bedroom. Travis has his back to me, sitting on the edge of his bed and just staring out the window. He hasn’t seemed to even notice my presence at all. I apparently don’t scare him quite like I’m scaring myself right now. His body is perfectly still and his mind seems somewhere else completely. I reach through the hole in the door to unlock it before pulling my hand back out and opening it. As I walk inside his bedroom he doesn’t so much as flinch. If he weren’t sitting up straight I’d think he was fucking dead.

“Travis?” The anger in my voice fades into confusion as I look at him. There’s something fucking eerie about seeing him sitting like that. I walk around the bed so I can get a better look at him. His face is void of any emotion and his bloodshot eyes are just as dead. Regardless of how much I fucking hate him right now, I can see the face of the man who was once my friend. The face of the boy I grew up with: a boy who was like a second brother to me. The memories of the past few hours come rushing back and any fondness I’m feeling for him quickly dissipates. I wish I could think of him as a fucking stranger because then this wouldn’t hurt so fucking badly.

I say his name once more and watch as he still sits completely unresponsive before me. My rage turns into fear as my gaze trails down to his hands, which are wrapped in a vice-grip around the pistol in his lap. Everything in my world comes to a resounding halt. I look back to his blank face in disbelief. So many thoughts course through my mind at once, causing them all to sound like one angry jumbled mess. I’m too far gone to make any sense of them. The tension in the air is palpable. When, I reach out to grab ahold of the gun, Travis shakes out of his catatonic state. He holds it tightly in his right hand like it’s all that he has left in this world.

“Travis… what is this?”

“Please,” he begs, his voice gruff and resigned. “Just leave me alone, Trevor. Just get the fuck out of here and leave me be.”

“No. What the hell are you doing, Travis?”

I’m not going to let him fucking do this. I can’t tell if he’s acting out of cowardice or if he’s been suffering for a very long time. Regardless, I’m not going to allow him to kill himself because of his fucking guilt. He’s shaking before me. He’s no longer the monster I made him out to be just hours before. He looks like a very small, remorseful man who made a really fucked-up mistake. He looks pathetic, like he’s practically dead already. This piece of shit who’s now contemplating his own demise took so much from me. He destroyed me—left me to pick up the pieces of my fucked-up life while he watched from a distance. I hate him. I hate him for so many things, but as tears prick my eyes I realize that I don’t really fucking hate him at all. And that’s the hardest pill to swallow. I want to murder him myself, but I also want to wrap my arms around him and tell him that everything’s going to be all right.

Despite the dark feelings coursing through me as I look at him, I still love Travis like a brother. What happened was a horrible fucking accident, completely devastating, but as I look at the pusillanimous man he’s become, I slowly begin to find forgiveness in my heart. Whatever it takes, I’m not going to let him die tonight. I couldn’t save Dean… I couldn’t save Cat… but I’m going to save Travis. I won’t him slip through my fingers like everyone else. He’ll survive even if he doesn’t want to. He can beg for death, but I’ll show him another way. Instead of reaching for the gun I sit down on the floor beside him, my posture completely non-threatening.

I don’t know what to fucking do, but I know I can’t give up on him. “Talk to me, man.” I try to sound strong, but my voice fucking cracks.

With the gun held tightly in his right hand he shakes his head, tears well up in his eyes before they trail down his cheeks. He’s fucking shaking like he’s a ticking time bomb getting ready to explode before my eyes.

“Please, Travis. Fuck, just say something,” I practically beg.

He’s silent for a long time.

“It was an accident, Trevor,” he finally says with a sob.

“I know that,” I assure him, wrapping my arms around my knees so I’m sitting in a fucking ball on the floor at his feet. “I know it was an accident.”

Travis looks at me for a long time. His eyes are so red they look fucking cashed, and his posture’s so tense he’s vibrating on the bed. I stare back, unwilling to look away for even a second, fearing he’ll do something drastic. Another sob escapes his mouth as he buries his face in his left hand, still clenching the gun to his chest with his right hand.

“Do you know what you’re going to do now that you guys are almost finished?” I ask before taking another swig of my beer.

Travis smiles and shrugs before taking a drink of his IPA. “I got accepted to CU Boulder with Dean.”