Brick

I wrote this to the tune of "Brick" by Ben Folds Five. It's a short story that was intended for a fan fiction community to read and enjoy. But it's sort of ambiguous and can be taken for a regular short story.

 

            If Taylor had gotten any sleep at all, then he would be waking up to the sound of his alarm. Even though he’d been awake all night, he was glad that he hadn’t been inflicted with the sound of that terrible contraption. He’d never understood the appeal of the alarm clock. They were all the same; the sound tinny and obnoxious. How anyone could have a good day after being woken up by that noise, Taylor did not understand. He hated his alarm clock.

 

            It was a cold morning, one of the coldest that he could remember. Winter had never been his favorite season. He hated the snow. He hated the cold. If he could hibernate, he would. It didn’t help that he lived in his parents garage. It had been converted into an apartment just a few years before, just after he’d graduated from high school. But it had poor insulation and the carpet was thin. Four months out of the year, he felt as if he were living in a damn igloo.

 

            It was still dark outside when he stepped aside to start his car. It took him a couple of tries, turning the key in the ignition, before the engine purred. He kept the gear in park and let it idle. He turned the heat on, full blast, and stepped outside to have a smoke. He zipped up his coat and pulled it tight around his torso as he shoved his hand inside of the pocket for his cigarettes. He pulled one away from the others and brought it to his lips, anchoring it there as he retrieved his lighter.

 

            His parents house towered in front of him in the dark, casting luminous shadows over his car. The spoils of Christmas lay inside, another holiday lost. His brothers and sisters were all sleeping now, dreaming of the presents that they’d received and the food that would keep them fed for the next three weeks. His parents had had a good year. All of this presents were piled in the backseat of his car, packed away and ready to be carried to his campus apartment where he was sure that he would only open a fraction of them.

 

            He’d lost touch with his family, all of them. He’d left for college five years ago and since then everything had changed. Maybe it was because he wasn’t doing what his parents had always wanted him to do. His older brother Isaac had given up college altogether and had ran away with a girl when he was nineteen years old. He’d left nothing behind but a bill for an interrupted college tuition and a box full of dusty comic books. I guess he didn’t need them where he was going.

 

            Ever since then, it had been Taylor’s job to correct his brother’s mistakes. He enrolled at a state school, pre-med. It was what his parents wanted from him, to become a successful doctor with a beautiful wife and a collection of halo haired children. But he’d always hated calculus and he’d never been very interested in anatomy so he changed his major to undeclared and spent the next four years trying to figure out what he wanted to do. As the years passed, he started enrolling for less and less classes and became somewhat of an errant soul. His parents had never forgiven him.

 

If they knew what he was up to this morning, they would turn their backs on him completely and Christmas with his family would be nothing more than a memory from his past. He’d made a lot of mistakes in his life time. He’d done a lot of stupid things. This was one of his worst. Somewhere in time, his life had gone terribly wrong and today was one of the days where he realized just how bad it had become.

 

            Sighing heavily, he finished his cigarette and tossed it into the snow. Turning back to his car, he opened the door and slipped inside. The seat was freezing and he could feel the cutting, cold leather through the fabric of his jeans. Shivering, he shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. Driving away, he looked back at his parent’s house in his rearview mirror. Once upon a time, he’d been happy there.

 

            By the time he reached her apartment, the sun had begun to rise and had tinted the skies a soft shade of orange. It would have been comforting if his heart didn’t hang so heavy. He walked the stairs to the third floor with weighted steps. He knocked her door but found no answer. It was unlocked and so he opened the door and stepped inside. It was cold inside, debilitating and dark. She was hear somewhere. He could sense her. He’d always been able to.

 

            Eight months ago, he’d felt her presence and had turned his head to find her sitting there beside him, waiting at the bar for a drink. It had been her twenty first birthday and she was away from home, missing her family and her friends. She bought him a drink and he took her home. She was beautiful then, the most beautiful girl that he’d ever seen. He’d loved her from the minute that she’d smiled at him and asked him what poison he preferred. He’d never had a girlfriend as beautiful as her. He had a reason to come home now, a reason to give up everything and spend his weekends away from school and research papers and professors.

 

Falling in love with her had been easy. She lived in a lavish, down town apartment paid for by her parents. She came from a wealthy, well-to-do family. Her parents wouldn’t approve of him, she’d always said but that was why she liked him so much. He was dangerous. He didn’t mind being her risk. The weekends were long and full of adventure. Most of their time, they spent it between the sheets of her bed, discovering each other. She was so perfect. He’d always thought so.

 

            “Lena?” he called, stepping into the present. Her apartment was so cold. He wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled in a heavy breath. He would have preferred to be outside. He hoped that her heater hadn’t broken. She was too beautiful for this angry temperature. She didn’t answer him. She had promised him that she would be here. They had made this decision together. She was here. She had to be.

 

            He saw her then, curled up on the couch in the living room, her eyes closed. She had a blanket draped over her but it wasn’t much. He could see her shivering in the cold. Her arms were wrapped across her body. He could hear her teeth, chattering. He was the reason why she was here, looking so sad and alone. He sighed heavily.

 

            “You ready?” he asked, for lack of anything better to ask. He could have sat beside her and given her a hug, offered her the warmth of his body. But he didn’t. He’d already messed up. There wasn’t any coming back. She opened her eyes slowly and found him with her eyes, finally acknowledging his presence.

 

            “No,” she said, but she stood up anyway. Her movements were slow. She looked tired, as if she hadn’t slept in days. He didn’t doubt that she hadn’t. He hadn’t slept since he’d come home for Thanksgiving. Ever since she’d told him; ever since they’d decided about what needed to be done to cover up the mistake that they had made.

 

            “Are your parents here?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. She shook her head.

 

            “They left for Charlotte last night,” she said. “To see my grandparents.”

 

            “That’s good,” he said, as he stepped back towards the door.

 

            “They have no idea,” she said. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

 

            He didn’t answer her. He just walked her to the door and opened it for her, watching her step into the hallway outside. She seems thinner. She hasn’t been eating and I can see it on her body.

 

            “I can’t have a baby,” she had told him. One month ago, two days after Thanksgiving with my parents, they found themselves sitting at a stoplight in the middle of the night, Taylor’s car idling quietly, his foot stationary on the brake.

 

            “Yeah. I don’t think that I can either,” he said, but he wasn’t so sure. It wouldn’t be the worst thing. He loved her. He could love a baby too.

 

            “You have to know, Taylor,” she said. “It’s not something that can be undone. I want you to be sure.” He looked at her then. He could see it in her eyes that she was adamant. She didn’t want a baby. Not just with him; she didn’t want a baby with anyone. At least not right now. She was close to graduation. She was going to be a journalist. She’d been working hard. She knew what she wanted to do with her life. She always had.

 

            “I’m sure,” he said. He would do anything for her. He just wanted her to be happy. He loved her. That he was sure of.

 

            They’d picked a clinic more than an hour outside of town. She’d set up an appointment weeks ago. She’d done it all on her own. Taylor had to be at school. He had finals to prepare for. The drive was quiet, save the gentle melodies of Ben Harper that played softly from Taylor’s stereo. When they arrived at the clinic, Taylor chose a parking space in the middle of the lot and put the car in park. He looked at Lena. She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the clinic. She’d never been there before. Taylor had driven by a few times and had felt its hold on him. This was the place that would take her away from him.

 

            Inside, the walls were painted a light blue, maybe to appease the minds of everyone who entered. The nurse at the desk was rigid and wiry. She watched them enter with a look on her face that said nothing more than utter disgust. She shouldn’t work in a place like this, Taylor thought. She made him feel worse as he sat down beside Lena on the cool, plastic chairs in the waiting room.

 

            “I don’t need you to go in with me,” she said. He looked at her but once again, she wasn’t facing him. He swallowed thickly. He wanted her to need to him. He wanted to help her through this but she was pushing him away.

 

            “Are you sure?” he asked.

 

            “I’m sure,” she said, with as much conviction as he’d given her when he’d answered the same question just a few weeks before. He didn’t believe her and she sensed that because she turned to him.

 

            “If you love me, let me go in alone,” she said, before he could question her. He looked at her and nodded but he didn’t understand. He loved her but he didn’t feel that this entailed leaving her alone.

 

            “Lena?” the woman at the desk called, her voice matching her sharp, pointed face. She held a door open to Lena and Taylor watched as she stood up.

 

            “Lena?” he called out to her. She reached the door but turned around to look at him, her dark eyes sad and tired.

 

            “What?” she asked.

 

            “I love you,” he told her.

 

            “I know,” she said, before she turned away and the door shut, closing her away from him. He sighed heavily and ran his hands over his face. He hated that he was here, that their relationship had digressed from a state of perfection to a conflagration of hate and blame. It wasn’t that he hated her for her decision. He was upset, but he didn’t hate her. He loved her and he wanted what was best for her. If that didn’t include him, he had to accept that. But he wouldn’t have minded having a child with her. He didn’t know what else he wanted to do with this life. Maybe this baby was his answer. But she didn’t think so. She called him selfish when he told her and she stopped calling him. That was when he realized that he loved her more than she loved him; that she needed him less than he needed her.

           

            “It’s going to more than a half an hour’s wait,” the nurse said, her sharp voicing breaking Taylor from his thoughts. He looked up. She was looking at him with narrowed eyes. She must think so lowly of him. Lena was the victim here and Taylor was the perpetrator. He had done her wrong and he was the reason why she was here in the first place.

 

            “I told you that we should have used a condom that night, Taylor,” Lena had said, just before he’d dropped her off at her apartment. Thanksgiving had been spoiled. Taylor wasn’t grateful for anything.

 

            “I was out,” was all that he could say. He didn’t have an answer for her.

 

            “Well, now our lives will never be the same, Taylor,” she said. “You should have bought more.”

 

            And so it was all his fault. She had wanted to have sex that night, just as much as he had. She had fucked him, long and hard. She had told him that she’d loved him, that she’d never been happier than when she was f*****g him. But she didn’t want to admit that this was half of her doing. She didn’t like to be wrong.

 

            “I don’t mind waiting,” he told the woman. But then she looked down at him, past her nose and he decided that he’d rather not spend the next half an hour in her company. He cleared his throat and excused himself, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket as he left. He lit one and pulled it to his lips, taking a long and heavy drag. The nicotine burned but it felt glorious to his twisting nerves.

 

            Snow had begun to fall and it was thick and wet. It clung to his eyelashes and his hair. His footprints left a trail to his car and he slipped into the front seat. He turned on the engine and played the stereo but he changed the CD. He wasn’t in the mood for Ben Harper. Sighing heavily, he caught a glimpse of the presents, piled into the backseat. His parents had bought him shiny, material things in hopes of bribing him to be a better son. They’d bought him a stereo, a DVD player, new clothes - nothing that he wanted, nothing that he needed.

 

            Like an answer to an unspoken prayer, a light flicked on across the street. Larry’s Pawn and Trade. Taylor put the car into reverse and then navigated his way out of the parking lot. He parked in front of the shop and turned the car off. He carried his gifts inside and set them on the counter.

 

            “How much?” he asked. The man that Taylor could only assume was Larry flicked his eyes over the expensive stereo and DVD player. Taylor could practically see the drool, pooling in the corners of his mouth.

 

            “For this,” he said, pulling the unopened up boxes closer to him. “Two fifty.”

 

            “They’re brand new,” Taylor said, shaking his head. “They’re never been opened, untouched.”

 

            “All right. Six hundred,” the man said. “I’ll give you six hundred.”

 

            “Fair enough,” Taylor said. The main wrote him a receipt of forfeit and then counted out six hundred dollars in bills. Taylor pocketed them.

 

            “Thanks,” he said.

 

            “Thank you,” the man answered.

 

            Taylor left the pawn shop. It took him another twenty minutes to find a consignment store and he pocketed another hundred dollars. With seven hundred dollars in his pocket, he should feel powerful but he felt exactly the opposite. He wouldn’t have it for much longer.          

 

            He returned to the clinic but he parked in the front this time. He walked inside with red cheeks, smelling of tobacco and cold. Lena was sitting on a plastic chair, waiting for him. She stood up when he came in.

 

            “Where did you go?” she asked.

 

            “I had to do some things,” he said. He stepped up to the counter. The nurse was already writing them a bill.

 

            “How much?” he asked.

 

            “Taylor, I’m going to send them a check,” Lena said, coming up behind him.

 

            “No,” he said, keeping his eyes on the nurse. “How much?”

 

            “Five hundred and thirty seven dollars,” the woman said. Taylor took the wad of bills from his pocket and handed the woman the appropriate amount. She counted it and then picked up the bill and dropped it into the trash can.

 

            “Let me get you your receipt,” she said, stepping away from the desk. When she was gone, Lena looked up at Taylor.

 

            “Where did you get all of that money?” she asked.

 

            “I sold my presents,” he said. “Merry Christmas from my parents.” She looked up at him and swallowed thickly.

 

            “I was going to write a check,” she said.

 

            “Lena, checks are traceable and besides, you don’t have the money,” he said.

 

            “I do,” she responded.

 

            “Why won’t you let me help?” he asked. “It’s my responsibility too.”

 

            She didn’t answer him. The nurse returned and handed them a receipt.

 

            “Thank you,” she said. “Happy holidays.”

 

            It was a joke, Taylor thought as he walked Lena out of the clinic. How can anyone expect to have a happy holiday when they’ve just left an abortion clinic? He let Lena into the car and crossed to the passenger side.

 

            “Thanks,” she said. “For doing that.”

 

            “Sure,” he said, even though he felt terrible. He’d just paid to have his child killed. His parents had raised him to believe that abortion was murder, that it was a sin. He had sinned. He had paid to murder his child. He would never know the potential that his baby could have been. For years, that child’s smile would haunt his dreams but he would never see it. Because he loved Lena and he would do anything for her.

 

            On the drive home, Taylor had never felt more alone. Lena was only in the passenger seat beside him but she might as well have been a million miles way. She wouldn’t talk to him. She just stared listlessly out the window, watching the world as it passed her by. Things would never be the same now. They would never have what they once shared. She would never sit next to him at a bar and smile as she found out his secrets. He would never get to run his fingers through her hair while she lay sleeping, her head in his lap, the credits rolling on their favorite movie. A chasm separated them, a chasm of responsibility and choice. They had let each other down. He still loved her but love wasn’t enough to hold onto her. She had already let go.

 

            It was half an hour after ten when he pulled up to her apartment. He put the car in park and idled at the curb. She opened the door.

 

            “Thanks,” she said, turning to look at him before she stepped outside.

 

            “I’m sorry, Lena,” he said. “For all of this.”

 

            “People make mistakes, Taylor,” she said. “We all make mistakes.”

 

            “But you were never one of them,” he said. “I’ve loved you the whole time. I still do and I will… if you’ll let me.”

 

            She looked at him sadly then and sighed.

 

            “It’s better if we let go, Taylor,” she said. “We’re going under.”

 

            He didn’t want to concede but she was forcing him to. He let out a heavy sigh and nodded gently.

 

            “Then I guess this is goodbye?” he asked. She nodded.

 

            “I’ve been doing that a lot today,” she said. “Saying goodbye…”

 

            “You don’t have to,” Taylor said. “I can stay…”

 

            She interrupted him. “No,” she said. “Just go, Taylor. It’s done.” Slowly, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Her touch was cold, full of sadness and pain. Taylor watched her as she climbed out of the car.

 

            “Bye Lena,” he called. She turned around and waved gently as she walked away. He stayed there, idling in the parking lot until she was gone, until she’d disappeared inside of the apartment building, swallowed whole by the cold morning.

 

            Taylor’s mother called a few weeks later.

 

            “Lena’s in the hospital,” she told him. “She tried to kill herself.”

 

            He drove home without hesitation, knowing full well that he was responsible for her pain. He didn’t know what had been told to their parents. Did they know that what their children had done? The hospital was suffocating, full of blame and misery. Lena’s room was on the fifth floor. He found her parents waiting there, both of them tired with worry and fear.

 

            “She’s been a mess for weeks but we weren’t expecting this,” her father said.

 

            “We thought that she was stressed,” her mother said. “With school.”

 

            “And she hasn’t been seeing you. Did you break up?” her father asked. Taylor could only nod. He didn’t tell them why. They didn’t need to know unless they asked.

 

            “She’s never handled break-ups very well,” her mother said.

 

            “But she’s never been in love like she was with you,” her father told him. Taylor’s heart broke a little more with those words. He swallowed thickly.

 

            “Can I see her?” he asked.

 

            They led him to a tiny room, just a few doors down from the waiting room. Lena was lying awake in bed, her head turned towards the window, her eyes watching the world. She had bandages around her wrists, each one dotted with red.

 

            “Lena,” he said. She turned to face him, tears in her eyes.

 

            “I couldn’t lie to them anymore,” she said. “but I couldn’t let them down.”

 

            “They need to know,” he said. “They can help.”

 

            “They won’t want to,” she said.

 

            “They love you, Lena,” he said. “They will.”

 

            “That’s not strong enough,” she said.

 

            “It was for me,” he answered. She looked at him then and she cried, convulsions so strong that her body pitched forward. Taylor was at her side, quickly, holding her. He let her cry. She hadn’t cried since it had happened. He’d cried himself to sleep, countless nights but maybe that was why he wasn’t in the hospital bed, on suicide watch. He was alone but he’d had himself. Lena couldn’t even find solace in her own heart. She was more alone than she’d ever been.

 

            They confessed their transgressions, holding onto the strength that they brought each other. If everything fell around them, Taylor promised Lena that he would be strong for her, that they would survive. Lena’s parents, they understood. They took their daughter in their arms and they kissed her forehead, told her that they loved her and that they were glad that she was still with them. She had her whole life ahead of her. She’d made the right choice.

 

            Taylor wasn’t so lucky. He didn’t go home for Christmas the following year. His parents didn’t buy him another stereo or a DVD player. He didn’t get a card in the mail. He called but no one returned his phone call. He’d made a mistake and he was paying for it. When he checked the mail, he found nothing more than an anonymous card. His address was typed but inside, the handwriting was familiar.

 

Merry Christmas. I hope you’re not alone this year. I miss you.

Love, Lena.

 

            He wanted to write and tell her that yes, he was alone and that he’d never felt more broken or detached. But she was happy now. She was doing better. That was all that mattered. He was drowning but he didn’t want to pull her down with him. She’d already been through enough.

           

Reviews

[FicWriter]

It's odd to give a good rating to a bad story, but I have to this time. It's a very depressing story, but you wrote it well. You ended it rather abruptly, though. Are you planning to continue this story? It sounds to me like this idea would be a good one to turn into a novel, at the end of which Taylor might end up becoming happy again. I think you should keep working with it, it might turn into something really good.