Orientation Chapter 9

"Have a day," he said. And I asked him what that meant. Have a good day, a bad day, have a day. It didn't make sense to me. He didn't clarify, he just smiled, nodded his head and repeated, "Have a day." She walked around the hood with a shoebox in her hand. I looked at her face and she smiled. What was going on? I've always hated surprises on the surface, but secretly loved them. Have a day. Have a great day. I hope it's something good. Don't really need new shoes, but any gift is a good gift. I went to put my arm around her and she ducked under it, putting her hand on my hip to restrain me from trying again. I laughed and she smiled and didn't say a word. I kept my eyes on the shoebox and her jeans. They fit her nice, but her brother was right behind us so I couldn't stare too hard. I looked back at him and he looked at me. Nodded and sucked the hair that grew beneath his bottom lip. Have a day.

I was living in the garage. I got fed up with the house and devoted the summer to cleaning out the garage and making it habitable. Under layers of urine soaked cardboard boxes, rat droppings and cobwebs lay the foundation. I hung drywall and painted it matte green. I stacked my mattress on top of cinderblocks and covered it with a blue sleeping bag unzipped. The flannel on the underside was perfect for the winter and the cool nylon kept me sane in the endless summer school nights. The concrete floor was cracked and jutted up in places. I covered it with a gray rug. It was important you knew where to step, especially if barefooted. It felt good to be out here. There wasn't a bathroom, and I'd often piss in the bushes outside my door, but the separation from the family was good. No other way to describe it.

Have a day. It excited me. We stepped into my garage-room and I was ready to have a day. I shut the blinds and expected to hear her brother's truck rumble off but it didn't. She was sitting on the couch. It was odd. She usually sat on the bed straight away. The couch smelled like cat piss and carpet soap. She held the shoebox on her lap. I sat down adjacent to her. Our knees barely touched. She moved hers. "Here," she said. And she handed me the shoebox. "Don't open it yet. I don't want you to open it while I'm here." And she smiled. Have a day. Confusing. "This is really hard, because I love you so much, but I know you don't love me." She smiled again. How did she know I didn't love her? "You're just really mean to me. Everything you say or do to me is just so negative. You aren't like that with other people. You aren't condescending and passive aggressive you're a genuinely nice person, except when you're with me." I had no idea it was so obvious. I started to figure out where this was leading. The shoebox felt heavy in my arms. Have a day. "I know you don't trust me and you probably wont believe this, but I never cheated on you." Cheated on me? I never though you cheated on me. Fuck, she cheated on me. I started to burn. "I don't think you're ready to be in a relationship." You don't know what I'm ready for. "I still want us to be friends. I mean it." I started to open the shoebox and she walked out of the room.

I followed her down the driveway, her brother's eyes locked onto my every step. She hurried towards the car but I wanted answers. How did she know I hated her? I thought I hid it so well. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She was the bad one, not me. I wanted to vomit. This wasn't fair. It had nothing to do with heartbreak. Rejection. What is this feeling? Why do I want to scream? Have a day. Her brother was still sucking on his lip as she got in the car. He touched his eyebrow as if he was tipping his hat to me, but he wasn't wearing one. I saw her in the passenger seat, she wasn't sad. The dummy wasn't sad. She was probably on her way to Collin's house. Fucking jock. Fucking dumb jock. Have a day.

The truck drove away and I stood in the street to watch it. The sun-baked blacktop stung my sand calloused toes and I blamed it on her. I couldn't take it anymore. I was stuck out there. In too much pain to run for the grass. I trotted in place and in a move fueled by desperation threw down the shoebox and stood on top of it. It crumbled and folded in on itself, providing relief from the scolding ground but it wasn't soothing. Underneath my toes lay pictures of her and me. But when I looked at myself, it wasn’t like looking in a mirror. I was different around her and it made me happy that this was captured in a picture. She scribbled little notes onto the backs. Why would she give these to me? I should give them back. That's what I'll do. I'll give them back, and apologize, and tell her that I love her and to have a day. I stood on the pictures a minute longer before running to the grass. I sat there and watched a few get blown away and a few get run over by passing cars, but for the most part they just laid dead in the crumbled box. I scooped them up when the sun dipped behind the mountains and the valley sat in the shade. I put them in a new shoebox and tied a ribbon around it. I wrote a note and ignored her two phone calls. Tomorrow I'd have a day.