A Vice

"You always do these things to me," Kyle laughed. "You always make me think it's okay to let down my PC guard and then you hone in on the hate."

He was talking about my character. He was talking about my fake personality. I would never insult Kyle – I thought he was beautiful and brilliant and perfect, but Fake Andie, my other self, disagreed. She always did.

"I only do it so you can see where your prejudices lie." My mouth moved and my voice said the words but it was not me. She had total control of me around him.

"My prejudices?" he laughed again, taking another shot of tequila.

"Maybe vices would be a better word," I said. "Or maybe it wouldn't. I just think you should be aware of whatever it is." Inside I screamed for my outer self to shut up and let me out. Kyle was so close to me, close enough that I could smell the very essence of his skin, but she kept us apart.

"Well, thank you for bringing it to my attention," he said, his good mood enduring. "But if we're in a sharing mood, I want to ask you something."

"What's that?"

"Why are you alone?"

I reeled. So did my other self.

"I'm alone because I want to be. I don't need to be in a pair."

"But don't you?" Kyle asked. "Shit, Andie, if you weren't like a sister to me I'd say we were practically that pair." My heart broke at his words but Fake Andie mocked me and kept talking.

"I don't need anyone, Kyle, least of all you." Kyle turned to look at me seriously. The alcohol had clouded his turquoise eyes but he was clear in his purpose.

"You're a damned liar, Andrea."

"No, I'm not," Fake Me said. She forced me to stand, to put on the façade of anger while I screamed inside. I railed like an inmate in prison – I swore I'd be free.

"Yes, you are," he fired back. He stood to match me and grabbed my shoulders, giving me a firm shake. "You need me, Andie, like I need you."

"No, no, no," Fake Me said, but she grew weaker with each shake and my own resolve grew stronger.

"Yes, Goddamnit!" Kyle yelled. "You need me and I need you!"

"But you don't love me," I said.

Then the shaking stopped.

Kyle let go of my arms and slowly sank back to the floor, letting untold minutes of silence stretch between us.

"No," he finally said, a faraway look in his eye, "I don't love you, but I need you all the same."

Vicodin Dreams

From the table to my mouth and back again. Shake shake shake. Tap them in.

I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. I thought of everything and nothing as I drifted through my high, but mostly I thought of Kyle.

Kyle was the boy I'd loved since I was five. He was beautiful and perfect and my best friend. I could never have him but that didn't stop the love. If you know love you know it keeps on coming whether it's wanted or not.

Kyle was the reason I was in this bed, staring at the ceiling, but he'd never know that. I'd never told anyone and never would tell – I'd be silent about Kyle Lansky forever.

As I drifted on a plane of sea foam green and puffy white clouds, I became aware of an opening door. The open door held Kyle, and Kyle held fear. It was such an unimaginable fear that it frightened me as much as it did him.

“Andie, what are you doing?” he whispered, and as he rushed at me, my acid dreams rushed away, like smoke banished by a gust of air. He sat next to me on the bed and lifted my prone body; my breasts brushed against his chest and for a moment I experienced such ecstatic delight that I thought I might be able to overcome the monster I’d put inside myself.

"Kyle," I whispered back, smiling weakly. My eyes couldn't open very far, but they opened just enough to see his beautiful face. "Kyle, Kyle, Kyle." I said his name over and over again, mumbling it even as he tried to speak to me.

I remember at one point he said, "We have to call an ambulance," and for some reason I made no protest. I kept murmuring his name and the more I murmured, the more I drifted back into my world of sea foam green and puffy white.

Then my room was stark around me. My vision cleared in an instant and I leaned over the bed just in time to vomit. Half dissolved white things were scattered in my puke and Kyle looked at it for a long time before shaking me.

"What did you take?" he screamed in my face. "What did you take?"

"Kyle, Kyle, Kyle," was all I said. Kyle never let me go but he searched the bedside table and found his answer on the side of my prescription bottle.

"Andie, oh God, Andie," he kept saying as he held my hair and gripped me as close as he could. I was on fire for him. I was on fire for the Reaper too.

Then I wasn't. I felt the coldness creep over me and I knew it was coming. I was too weak to touch his face, too weak to lift my arms or even to open my eyes, but I smiled at my love as the dreams took me away.

Schmidt the Schmuck

"I'm going to kill Wolfgang Hansberger." My girlfriend cast me a sidelong glance before rolling her eyes, but my expression remained stoic. "That's right, Pen. You heard me. I am going to murder him."

"Oh quit it, Aaron," Penelope scoffed as she scribbled away in her math notebook. "You always say crap like this. Firstly, it never amounts to anything and secondly, it just irritates me, so quit. Do your English homework. You'll never get into college if you don't."

"Oh, screw my English homework. Listen to me for a minute, will you?" I turned sideways in my chair, my paper on Frankenstein forgotten, and I kicked Penelope's foot to get her to look at me. She sighed angrily before tossing her pencil onto her notebook.

"What don't you understand about homework?" she asked, just as irritated as I was. She turned her body in the direction of her eyes and looked me squarely in the face. "We have to get this work done for tomorrow. You bitch about Wolf every day. Can't you take a break for once? I mean fuck, why can't you two just dump some testosterone and grow up?"

"Because he's evil," I said under my breath. This only caused Penelope to huff again, but I protested. "No, seriously, Pen! You've seen how that dick treats me! He shoves me into the wall for no reason! He and his buddies beat the shit out of me a year and a half ago and taped it for laugh! They're all bullies and I'm going to kill the ringleader."

"Oh please," she sneered, turning away from me again. "Wolf didn't shove you into the wall – he asked you to move and you said you didn't have to do anything for him just because he was rich. You brought that on yourself."

"And the beating?"

"That was not a beating."

"Oh yeah? What was it, then?"

"Holy shit!" she practically screamed, turning to face me again. "Richard Price and Jeff Goldbloom lifted up your shirt and gave you a purple nurple while Wolf watched! That's all! You screamed like a little girl and then you cried, Aaron!"

"Well it fucking hurt!" I snapped back. "Have you ever had anyone do that to you?"

"You don't give purple nurples to girls," she replied, turning back to her work. "It turns into breast cancer."

"Oh whatever, Pen," I snarled, turning back to my work as well. "You always liked Hansberger better than me anyway. We've been dating for almost a year but whenever I need to vent about that asshole you always take his side. What the hell." There was a moment of silence before Penelope whispered something under her breath that was barely audible.

"I take his side because he acts like a man and you act like little bitch."

My head flew up from what I was writing, my eyes wide, and I turned to look at her. She was already staring at me.

"What?" I stammered.

"You heard me. You're such a pussy, Aaron. You're practically frail! When I first got together with you, you were smart and funny and had a different take on things. Now all you do is whine about how mean Wolf Hansberger is to you. It's pathetic. For Christ's sake, man up."

I stared at her in stony silence. I didn't know what to say. My own girlfriend thought I was a wimp, kowtowing to Hansberger's manliness because I couldn't possibly compete.
For a long time neither of us said anything. It felt like ten years stretched between us, the tension increasing slowly until I felt I would snap in two if someone were to touch me. Finally, I got up the nerve to say what I'd been thinking since I started our conversation.

"Fuck you, Penelope."

That's all I said.

We stared at each other for a while longer before she reacted. She grabbed her stuff, shoved it furiously into her bag, and said four parting words to me that I'll never forget:

"Fuck you too, Aaron."