Enemies

by Tijan

“Jesus fucking Christ! Are you serious with this shit?” He exploded. Full-out. He completely exploded. “What kind of person do you think—” He stopped short. “Wait. Don’t answer that. I started because of your mom. Okay? Yes. Me coming and telling you about your dad and Gail, that was me being a fucking decent person. I know you. Who else could tell you? After hearing what my family did to yours, that made me see red. I flew up there. I wanted answers.” “What?” “You were in a coma. Doctors wouldn’t let me anywhere near you for a full twenty-four hours. So after I left you in the hospital, I flew home, missed practice to find out what the fuck was going on. And I handled shit.” “Handled shit?” “Handled. And yeah, there’s bruises on my dad’s face and I don’t give a fuck how long they’re there for. I’d do it all over again. Him paying for your stuff, them both helping with funeral costs and everything—that was a debt massively owed to yours. I am sorry on behalf of whose blood I share. Then me helping you after that, that was because you had been my best friend until I realized what my dick was for and decided I was too good for the likes of a tomboy a grade younger than me. I am sorry on behalf of what a prick I was back then. And yes, me continuing to help you out was because of your mom. Not because I read that note. Those cookbooks didn’t get to me until a year ago. My mom had them for me, for some fucking reason, and didn’t hand them off. That’s when I read the first note...