Imperfectly Real (A Series of Imperfections) (16 page)

I sat back in my chair and smiled. Everyone wanted something from me in one form of another lately, but all she wanted was for me to open up. Things were shit, but no one seemed to consider how I was feeling about it. No, they just forced their thoughts and opinions on me, never really thinking how it affected me. All of this shit had gone down, yet no one really asked how I was doing. “You know, Chris. You’re the first person to ask me that in a while.”

Without really thinking of the repercussions, I poured my heart out to someone that I hadn’t even seen in years. Christy listened intently and added comments when I asked. She actually took the time to hear me out. You’re probably thinking I was a complete moron, and I probably was. But I didn’t mention names … just my situation. Little did I know that I was opening Pandora’s Box.

“Wow, Ty,” she said once my sob story had concluded. “I’m so sorry that you’re going through so much … alone.” She stopped and looked at me while she nervously chewed on her nails. “But while we’re honest here, I have something I’d like to confide in you as well.”

I got back to the condo and it was eerily quiet. I threw my keys down on the counter and called out, but there was no answer. I wondered where everyone had gone? Maybe I’d gotten lucky and scared them all off with my Hulk moment. I headed upstairs, realizing that I could use a little more alone time to process shit without added nonsense. As I reached my door I stalled. Rolling my eyes, I smiled. The ‘Hey Asshole’ notes had made their return.

We’d bought them by the dozens when we were in college, and obviously Shane and Rob had felt the need for them to make a comeback. The ‘Hey Asshole’ notes were your typical “while you were out” message pads. However, these were filled with hilarious boxes that you could check off in order to create your very own cheeky messages. I tore down the two that were taped to my door and took them into the room to read. The first one went like this:

I crumpled the paper and tossed it into my trashcan. I had to hand it to him, at least it was witty. I probably wouldn’t have been so kind if he’d been the one to slug me. I directed my attention to the next note.

HEY ASSHOLE

AKA Tyler Slutty-Slutterson

Rob had definitely added that last part.

I felt the anger rising in me. Shane’s note was blunt and to the point, but it was filled with truths and I hated it. Rob’s was way better, at least his had made me chuckle. I tossed Shane’s note into the trashcan and fell back onto my bed. I was emotionally drained with all that had transpired. So much information. So much to deal with. But, despite the stress, I was able to close my eyes and let sleep creep in.

I’m not entirely sure how much time passed, but I woke with a start when my door flew open to reveal Rob standing in the doorway, staring at me. I rubbed my eyes, encouraging them to open up, and for my brain to kick-start. Moments passed as he stared, expressionless and silent. It was all
Children of the Corn
shit—basically, it was fuckin’ creepy.

“What?” I finally asked, harshly.

“Well, did you get our notes?” he asked, seemingly annoyed—and rightfully so because his eye had already started bruise. He’d have fun explaining that to his coworkers at the firm. I’m sure they expected things like that from him, because he’d had to explain some of his actions a time or two before. They looked the other way a lot because, well, the guy was a freakin’ amazing lawyer—he could talk his way out of anything.

“Yes.” I didn’t want to discuss it any further. “Your notes have been received and I will take your suggestions into consideration.” No I wouldn’t. I was going to go after what I wanted … and what I wanted was Elizabeth.

“And …?” he urged. He wanted to know what I was going to do, but I refused to play his game. He may have been right, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with continuing to be a douche and get into my business. My shitty situation had nothing to do with him.

“And nothing.” I lay back down on the bed and rolled away from him, hoping he’d take the hint. I wasn’t ready to talk to him—or anyone else for that matter. Not yet. “Leave me alone, Rob.”

I listened to his footsteps fade away. He’d gotten it. I breathed a sigh of relief. My moment of solace was short-lived, and I jumped as I heard heavy footsteps pounding back down the hallway, toward my room. I muttered a quick, “What the fuck?” just as Shane and Rob entered my room. Before I could escape, Rob dumped water all over me and my bed.

“You dickhead!” I screamed as I stood to defend myself.

“Shane …” Rob pleaded. “Quick, before he kicks our asses!”

Before I knew what was happening I was hit with an onslaught of white powder.
Had they just floured me?
Stunned, I stopped in my tracks as Shane shook bottles of powder over my drenched body and the familiar scent filled my nose. “Baby powder,” I laughed, my anger slowly subsiding while I sat back down on the edge of my bed.

“If you want to act like a baby, then we’ll treat you like one,” Rob spat.

“Seriously, Ty,” Shane spoke as he threw the emptied bottles into my covered lap. “You can’t push us away. We care about you—”

Rob quickly interrupted with, “That bitch is using you.”

I immediately felt myself stiffen.

“Would you just shut up!” Shane commanded, nervously running his hands through his hair. “God, you always make shit a million times worse. You have no filter. Kid gloves, Rob. We talked about this.”

I laughed because Shane was right. Rob had a tendency to get a tad emotional about things and escalate situations. We’d been there before.

“Like I was saying, we’ll do our best to help you”—Shane glared at Rob—”without judgment.”

“We will?” Rob asked. Shane punched him in the arm. Rob winced and immediately began nursing his second injury of the evening. “Fine. We will.”

I sighed. My friends refused to let me self-destruct and I was thankful for that. “Sorry for slugging you,” I blurted. A smug smile immediately spread across Rob’s face and I felt the need to knock him down a peg or two. “You deserved it, but I am sorry.”

He threw his arm around me. “That’s alright. It hardly hurt at all.”

I scoffed at his lie. I knew it had to have hurt like hell. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“You better have your green on!” Emma yelled up the stairs. I immediately looked down to my clothes and sighed. Fuck. No green. “I swear, Tyler, Rob will punch you if you don’t. He’s forgoing pinching, decided to kick it up a notch this year,” she hollered again as I sauntered over to my closet.

I took my nice shirt off and replaced it with a green polo. They had a point. It was an Irish bar for God’s sakes—you couldn’t go there to celebrate the birthday of a kid born on St. Patty’s Day and
not
wear green. Yes, you read that right. We were getting ready to celebrate Felix’s birthday … at O’Malley’s. Now before you get your panties all in a bunch over us having a kids birthday party at a bar, think about it. I mean, what else did you expect us to do? At least we got the owner to shut it down for the afternoon. It would just be the four of us celebrating at the very place that has been special to us for years.

I grabbed my cell phone from my nightstand and looked at it hopefully. No new messages. No missed calls. Mason must be home, or else Elizabeth would be calling and texting. That’s how she operated—I only ever heard from her when she was lonely. I liked to think that she just couldn’t find a way to call me when he was around, but I had a feeling it was because she didn’t need me.

Feeling slightly deflated, I shoved my cell in my pocket and I made my way downstairs where everyone was waiting for me. “Some things never change,” Emma muttered, grabbing Felix’s diaper bag. “Can we go now?”

She had a point. They were always waiting on my sorry ass.

We all piled into Shane’s car. It was probably a pretty funny sight—Rob and I crammed in the back, either side of Felix’s car seat. We just didn’t see the point in walking or riding the train. It wasn’t worth the hassle when you had a kid to worry about. It was quite snug, but somehow I fit. Shane pulled up to the sidewalk outside O’Malley’s and Rob was practically humming with excitement. I reached over and slapped his chest. “We’re not here to drink, moron.”

He turned to me, flabbergasted, as if he hadn’t really thought this through. It wasn’t surprising though—Rob never thought anything through. “What do you mean, no drinking? We always drink at O’s! Emma?” He became frantic the longer he thought about it. “Please tell me we can at least have one beer?”

Emma sighed while shaking her head. It was a good thing she loved us, because we were truly a handful. Poor thing was practically raising four boys all on her own—she was a saint. “You can have a beer, Rob, but please keep Robbie-Boy at bay.” Robbie-Boy was our nickname for crazy-ass drunk Rob. He was the one who got into all the shenanigans, and therefore had the killer stories to tell. Robbie-Boy was a handful, and poor Felix did not need to be exposed to that.

“No Robbie-Boy. Deal.” He smiled smugly at me.

Once inside we found our way to our spot. Shane, Rob and myself all ordered a Guinness because … well, just because. It didn’t feel right to be in this place with out a pint of stout in front of us. And our little man turning one was truly something to celebrate. He had turned into a little person right before our eyes. His crawling had turned into walking and the babbling was turning into words. I was still waiting patiently for the day where he’d call me ‘Uncle Ty’, instead of just pointing at me. It was hard to believe that a whole year had already passed us by. I could remember the day he was born just like yesterday.

It had been interesting living with Emma while she was pregnant. She’d always been kicked back, but the hormones turned her into a neurotic woman. Her maternal genes kicked in and she’d started cooking and cleaning. To be honest, it freaked us all out at first, but eventually we got used to it. The morning she’d gone in to labor with Felix she had busied herself in the kitchen, cooking us a huge breakfast before we headed out for our annual St. Patty’s Day crawl. Shane tried to get her to stay home—he even offered to stay with her, since he hadn’t planned on drinking anyway—but Emma insisted that she still go with us, hoping that the walking might kick start her labor. She was busy cooking our bacon, when her water broke all over the tiled floor.