Hold My Hand & Jump
chapter three - slow motion when you smile - tony's pov
If he gets in my face, I’m going to hit him.
“I mean, dude… wha’ the fuck is your problem?” My drunken roommate hiccupped and laughed. He plopped down on the couch and spilled whiskey all over it and himself.
“Oh, God, you’re fucking gross,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ve told you three times, Mark. This is the fourth – we are getting evicted if we don’t pay by the 1st of August. Did you hear me or do I have to write it down?”
Mark took another gulp of liquor. “Nah, I heard you.”
“So you just don’t care. Do you know what today is?” His silence was my answer. “The 28th of July. Do you want me to do the math for you?”
“Oh, shut up, you – ” The wheels turned in his head as he searched for an insult. “You got funny looking ears.”
And you got a funny looking face, douchebag, I thought.
“I’m still wonderin’ how you got a job with them funny looking ears and them stupid tattoos,” Mark continued, slurring through his unnecessary rambling.
“I’m wondering where that degree is that you said you’d have by January,” I yelled from the kitchen, looking for washcloths; living with him felt like living with a child, always cleaning up after him and dealing with his tantrums. “Or where the job you ‘were promised’ was.” When I came back into the living room, he was lounging on the couch, his hand around the neck of the bottle and the bottle on the floor. “I don’t have time to argue with you. Some of us actually have better things to do, like finish college or work a real job.”
“You work at Guitar Center.”
“I’m the only one with a job, and if it weren’t for me, you’d be out on the fucking street!” I gave up on cleaning up his mess, throwing the washcloth on the coffee table. “If you come up with $400, I’ll come up with the other $400. I really don’t care where it comes from.” I left him with that and stormed into my bedroom, the only solace I could get from the drunk.
“That’s not fair!” He whined from the living room. “You’ve never asked me to pay rent before! It’s always been you!”
“It’s on the lease, you fucking child. That’s how it works.”
Unfortunately, he heard it. “What did you fuckin’ say to me?” I heard the change in his voice. He’s gonna get in my face.
I turned around and he was in my doorway. “I said you’re a fucking child. I’d let us get evicted if I had a place to go because that’s how little I care about what happens to you.”
“Hey, I got places to go, I don’t need you, loser,” Mark smirked. He wiped the corners of his mouth on his sleeves and headed back down the hallway.
I narrowed my eyes. “Fine, I’ll tell the landlord you’ve never paid a cent. I can’t take you off the lease but he can. We’ll see how long your filthy ass is still living here.”
I’ve never seen someone that inebriated turn around that fast. “Say it to my face, you fucking prick,” he threatened. He practically charged toward me, nostrils flaring, head down, and showed no signs of stopping.
I’m not a cocky person, so I’ll say that the reason Mark was now napping on the floor was because of his BAC, not my fist. Somehow, I had managed to move him; I got him out of my doorway and into the hallway when my phone rang. It was Jaime; I answered it immediately. “I’m late, aren’t I?”
“No, we’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day to tell you it starts at 8. You still coming, though?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Sorry I couldn’t answer any of your calls.”
“No, I figured you had class this morning. Ama also said you had some kind of meeting with your landlord. Anyway, also wanted to let you know, don’t bring anything for food, we have plenty of it.”
“Good to know,” I said, nudging Mark into his room with my feet and shutting the door. “You still want me to bring those cases of water?”
Jaime thought for a second. “Oh, yes!” He then exclaimed, like he’d suddenly remembered. “I have no idea if Vic is bringing any so might be a good idea. Mike’s bringing the hard liquor, apparently.”
“So, tonight’s gonna be interesting.”
“Very. But I made tamales so, if anything goes wrong, that should make you feel better.”
“Hey, if you made them, I’m not going anywhere near them,” I laughed.
“Ha. Ha. See you at eight.”
“Yeah, man, see you then,” I chuckled, and hung up.
By the time I was done cleaning up the alcohol, the smell had left me nauseated. I jumped in the shower, hoping to relax… but all it did was leave me with my thoughts, and with one word that, for whatever reason, I couldn’t shake.
Loser.
I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him. Even when he wasn’t drunk, his opinions weren’t of any value to me. I did, however, believe in the straw that broke the camel’s back, and I sure as hell believed in the anxiety attack creeping up on me.
I told myself it was the hot water that was making it hard to breathe, but even after getting out and getting dressed, my chest was still tightening, and my stomach was still turning. Maybe Mark was right. I wasn’t successful by any means. Having a job despite my body modifications just meant I was lucky. I didn’t feel very lucky struggling to get hours at Guitar Center, though. I wasn’t any better than him because I was closer to getting my degree than he was; I had taken a semester off, and it was a degree in music theory, anyways. I’m not sure how I lay there, breathing heavily (or trying to), contemplating whether anything I’d ever done in life was worth it, repeating one word over and over again in my head: loser.
The sound of my phone vibrating on my dresser released me from the attack. I could never get used to those. The room spun and I got a head rush when I sat up, but I managed to read the text from Jaime: “Never mind, actually, on the water unless you still wanna get rid of it. Vic brought some.”
“My roommate will need it. Thanks for letting me know, though.” I slipped on my shoes and sent, “I’ll be on my way shortly.”
My stomach turned again when I passed Mark’s room. Get your shit and get out for all I care, I thought to myself. The drive to Jaime and Ama’s should have been enough to clear my head, but it was hard to convince myself to let it go. Living with anxiety was hardly living.
The front door was open when I pulled up. Jaime poked his head out of the doorway after I shut my car door. “Better late than never, I suppose,” he called, gesturing for me to come in.
“Am I late?” I yelled back, trying to get my phone out of my pocket.
He appeared in the doorway again, laughing. “No, you’re just the last one here. I’m yanking your chain. Come on in, though, there’s plenty of people, plenty of food…”
“You lost me at people, but got me back at food,” I laughed quietly.
“Oh, poor you, you have to socialize,” Jaime whined, mocking me as he grabbed a soda from the fridge. “I’m glad you came, though. As much as I love that girl, it’s nice to see someone else’s face for a change.”
“Happy anniversary, by the way,” I said as I made myself a plate. “Four years is pretty impressive.”
Jaime hummed in agreement, in the middle of a sip of soda. “It doesn’t feel like it though, with her.” From where he stood, just outside the kitchen doors, I knew he could see everyone through the open sliding glass door sitting around the fire pit, his gaze more than likely locked on Ama. “But thanks,” he said after a while. “There’s soda and cold beer in the fridge, but I’d advise against the alcohol.”
“Yeah, I’m not that dumb,” I said. He walked out to the backyard and I followed suit. Before I got out there, he was introducing everyone to somebody, but I couldn’t figure out who.
“You’ve met Vic already,” Jaime said; when Vic turned around and waved, I saw who it was, and… she was definitely a new face. I’d remember if I’d seen her before. “Don’t need to introduce you to my brother, don’t need to introduce you to Ama’s sister.” Jaime just kept going on, and I waited to see if I might catch her name. “Mikey Whiskeyhands,” he pointed at Mike; I couldn’t tell if he was drunk already. “I mean, does Mike even know your name?” Jaime asked, gesturing to the girl on his arm. Yeah, he’s drunk. She laughed, and I winced. Yeah, she’s pretty drunk too, holy shit. “And this is Tony.”
We made eye contact, and I swear I’ve never seen that shade of green in anyone’s eyes. It was comparable to coming face to face with an angel. My chest started to feel tight again, but this time it wasn’t really a bad thing. She damn near took my breath away.
“This is Violet, everybody; this is Ama’s friend that never comes to hang out with us anymore.”
Violet. I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, as her hair was a fantastic shade of purple. If she had been standing, it might have reached the middle of her back, and it was in between curly and straight. The beanie she wore must have tamed it a little bit, but it still fell gracefully across her shoulders and framed her face elegantly.
“Glad you could join us, Tony.” Ama’s voice snapped me out of it, and she gestured for me to sit down.
I did as she asked, and I tried very hard not to make a fool out of myself. It was hard not to appreciate the art, though. Violet was just breathtaking; how I wished I could freeze time and admire her. I didn’t want to come off as creepy, though, so I had to settle for the smallest side glances. Ama said something to Violet, then got up and went back in the house. Violet followed her with her eyes, laughing at what she’d said, and then her eyes fell to me.
If I didn’t believe in angels before, I did now.
Oh. Oh, she was looking at me. I looked away while I could, before I could do something dumb. This was bad. I felt like a middle schooler with a crush. My phone vibrated and I wasn’t sure if I should have been grateful or not. I didn’t think I could focus on anything but her; I didn’t want to worry about anything else but what I was going to say to her.
Unfortunately, when I read that text, I worried.
“Are you still coming over tomorrow, son?”
My mind slipped right back into the events of earlier; I replied, “Actually, mom, do you think I could stop by tonight?”
Her reply was instantaneous. “Sure, why not?” Then, a few seconds later: “Is everything okay?”
I didn’t reply; I didn’t feel like it, not when there were much more pleasant and beautiful things to focus on. That being said, it was hard to focus when I looked up and found her gaze on me again. It was only for a split second, then she turned away, embarrassed. The fire illuminated her rapidly blushing cheeks. It was worth it, to have her attention for a second, but I needed more. I needed to figure out what to say to her.
“I mean, dude… wha’ the fuck is your problem?” My drunken roommate hiccupped and laughed. He plopped down on the couch and spilled whiskey all over it and himself.
“Oh, God, you’re fucking gross,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ve told you three times, Mark. This is the fourth – we are getting evicted if we don’t pay by the 1st of August. Did you hear me or do I have to write it down?”
Mark took another gulp of liquor. “Nah, I heard you.”
“So you just don’t care. Do you know what today is?” His silence was my answer. “The 28th of July. Do you want me to do the math for you?”
“Oh, shut up, you – ” The wheels turned in his head as he searched for an insult. “You got funny looking ears.”
And you got a funny looking face, douchebag, I thought.
“I’m still wonderin’ how you got a job with them funny looking ears and them stupid tattoos,” Mark continued, slurring through his unnecessary rambling.
“I’m wondering where that degree is that you said you’d have by January,” I yelled from the kitchen, looking for washcloths; living with him felt like living with a child, always cleaning up after him and dealing with his tantrums. “Or where the job you ‘were promised’ was.” When I came back into the living room, he was lounging on the couch, his hand around the neck of the bottle and the bottle on the floor. “I don’t have time to argue with you. Some of us actually have better things to do, like finish college or work a real job.”
“You work at Guitar Center.”
“I’m the only one with a job, and if it weren’t for me, you’d be out on the fucking street!” I gave up on cleaning up his mess, throwing the washcloth on the coffee table. “If you come up with $400, I’ll come up with the other $400. I really don’t care where it comes from.” I left him with that and stormed into my bedroom, the only solace I could get from the drunk.
“That’s not fair!” He whined from the living room. “You’ve never asked me to pay rent before! It’s always been you!”
“It’s on the lease, you fucking child. That’s how it works.”
Unfortunately, he heard it. “What did you fuckin’ say to me?” I heard the change in his voice. He’s gonna get in my face.
I turned around and he was in my doorway. “I said you’re a fucking child. I’d let us get evicted if I had a place to go because that’s how little I care about what happens to you.”
“Hey, I got places to go, I don’t need you, loser,” Mark smirked. He wiped the corners of his mouth on his sleeves and headed back down the hallway.
I narrowed my eyes. “Fine, I’ll tell the landlord you’ve never paid a cent. I can’t take you off the lease but he can. We’ll see how long your filthy ass is still living here.”
I’ve never seen someone that inebriated turn around that fast. “Say it to my face, you fucking prick,” he threatened. He practically charged toward me, nostrils flaring, head down, and showed no signs of stopping.
I’m not a cocky person, so I’ll say that the reason Mark was now napping on the floor was because of his BAC, not my fist. Somehow, I had managed to move him; I got him out of my doorway and into the hallway when my phone rang. It was Jaime; I answered it immediately. “I’m late, aren’t I?”
“No, we’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day to tell you it starts at 8. You still coming, though?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Sorry I couldn’t answer any of your calls.”
“No, I figured you had class this morning. Ama also said you had some kind of meeting with your landlord. Anyway, also wanted to let you know, don’t bring anything for food, we have plenty of it.”
“Good to know,” I said, nudging Mark into his room with my feet and shutting the door. “You still want me to bring those cases of water?”
Jaime thought for a second. “Oh, yes!” He then exclaimed, like he’d suddenly remembered. “I have no idea if Vic is bringing any so might be a good idea. Mike’s bringing the hard liquor, apparently.”
“So, tonight’s gonna be interesting.”
“Very. But I made tamales so, if anything goes wrong, that should make you feel better.”
“Hey, if you made them, I’m not going anywhere near them,” I laughed.
“Ha. Ha. See you at eight.”
“Yeah, man, see you then,” I chuckled, and hung up.
By the time I was done cleaning up the alcohol, the smell had left me nauseated. I jumped in the shower, hoping to relax… but all it did was leave me with my thoughts, and with one word that, for whatever reason, I couldn’t shake.
Loser.
I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him. Even when he wasn’t drunk, his opinions weren’t of any value to me. I did, however, believe in the straw that broke the camel’s back, and I sure as hell believed in the anxiety attack creeping up on me.
I told myself it was the hot water that was making it hard to breathe, but even after getting out and getting dressed, my chest was still tightening, and my stomach was still turning. Maybe Mark was right. I wasn’t successful by any means. Having a job despite my body modifications just meant I was lucky. I didn’t feel very lucky struggling to get hours at Guitar Center, though. I wasn’t any better than him because I was closer to getting my degree than he was; I had taken a semester off, and it was a degree in music theory, anyways. I’m not sure how I lay there, breathing heavily (or trying to), contemplating whether anything I’d ever done in life was worth it, repeating one word over and over again in my head: loser.
The sound of my phone vibrating on my dresser released me from the attack. I could never get used to those. The room spun and I got a head rush when I sat up, but I managed to read the text from Jaime: “Never mind, actually, on the water unless you still wanna get rid of it. Vic brought some.”
“My roommate will need it. Thanks for letting me know, though.” I slipped on my shoes and sent, “I’ll be on my way shortly.”
My stomach turned again when I passed Mark’s room. Get your shit and get out for all I care, I thought to myself. The drive to Jaime and Ama’s should have been enough to clear my head, but it was hard to convince myself to let it go. Living with anxiety was hardly living.
The front door was open when I pulled up. Jaime poked his head out of the doorway after I shut my car door. “Better late than never, I suppose,” he called, gesturing for me to come in.
“Am I late?” I yelled back, trying to get my phone out of my pocket.
He appeared in the doorway again, laughing. “No, you’re just the last one here. I’m yanking your chain. Come on in, though, there’s plenty of people, plenty of food…”
“You lost me at people, but got me back at food,” I laughed quietly.
“Oh, poor you, you have to socialize,” Jaime whined, mocking me as he grabbed a soda from the fridge. “I’m glad you came, though. As much as I love that girl, it’s nice to see someone else’s face for a change.”
“Happy anniversary, by the way,” I said as I made myself a plate. “Four years is pretty impressive.”
Jaime hummed in agreement, in the middle of a sip of soda. “It doesn’t feel like it though, with her.” From where he stood, just outside the kitchen doors, I knew he could see everyone through the open sliding glass door sitting around the fire pit, his gaze more than likely locked on Ama. “But thanks,” he said after a while. “There’s soda and cold beer in the fridge, but I’d advise against the alcohol.”
“Yeah, I’m not that dumb,” I said. He walked out to the backyard and I followed suit. Before I got out there, he was introducing everyone to somebody, but I couldn’t figure out who.
“You’ve met Vic already,” Jaime said; when Vic turned around and waved, I saw who it was, and… she was definitely a new face. I’d remember if I’d seen her before. “Don’t need to introduce you to my brother, don’t need to introduce you to Ama’s sister.” Jaime just kept going on, and I waited to see if I might catch her name. “Mikey Whiskeyhands,” he pointed at Mike; I couldn’t tell if he was drunk already. “I mean, does Mike even know your name?” Jaime asked, gesturing to the girl on his arm. Yeah, he’s drunk. She laughed, and I winced. Yeah, she’s pretty drunk too, holy shit. “And this is Tony.”
We made eye contact, and I swear I’ve never seen that shade of green in anyone’s eyes. It was comparable to coming face to face with an angel. My chest started to feel tight again, but this time it wasn’t really a bad thing. She damn near took my breath away.
“This is Violet, everybody; this is Ama’s friend that never comes to hang out with us anymore.”
Violet. I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, as her hair was a fantastic shade of purple. If she had been standing, it might have reached the middle of her back, and it was in between curly and straight. The beanie she wore must have tamed it a little bit, but it still fell gracefully across her shoulders and framed her face elegantly.
“Glad you could join us, Tony.” Ama’s voice snapped me out of it, and she gestured for me to sit down.
I did as she asked, and I tried very hard not to make a fool out of myself. It was hard not to appreciate the art, though. Violet was just breathtaking; how I wished I could freeze time and admire her. I didn’t want to come off as creepy, though, so I had to settle for the smallest side glances. Ama said something to Violet, then got up and went back in the house. Violet followed her with her eyes, laughing at what she’d said, and then her eyes fell to me.
If I didn’t believe in angels before, I did now.
Oh. Oh, she was looking at me. I looked away while I could, before I could do something dumb. This was bad. I felt like a middle schooler with a crush. My phone vibrated and I wasn’t sure if I should have been grateful or not. I didn’t think I could focus on anything but her; I didn’t want to worry about anything else but what I was going to say to her.
Unfortunately, when I read that text, I worried.
“Are you still coming over tomorrow, son?”
My mind slipped right back into the events of earlier; I replied, “Actually, mom, do you think I could stop by tonight?”
Her reply was instantaneous. “Sure, why not?” Then, a few seconds later: “Is everything okay?”
I didn’t reply; I didn’t feel like it, not when there were much more pleasant and beautiful things to focus on. That being said, it was hard to focus when I looked up and found her gaze on me again. It was only for a split second, then she turned away, embarrassed. The fire illuminated her rapidly blushing cheeks. It was worth it, to have her attention for a second, but I needed more. I needed to figure out what to say to her.
