The mystery of friendships
Is it just me, or maybe all them?
Why my new friends don't seem to want me
-- The Strokes, Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus
He didn’t tell his mother about that night. Normally, he would, but every time he had, he’d only gotten Ryan in trouble. It wasn’t fair to keep secrets from her, but the fighting had slowed down considerably, encouraging him to keep quiet.
At school, he noticed just how different his friend group was from Ryan’s. They weren’t going through any phases, or not any that he knew about; his mother would’ve told him if he was, or if any of his neighbors also were. They didn’t really know much about each other either. He could tell just how close Ryan’s friends were, especially the girl and the redhead. His own friends felt very distant in comparison.
He didn’t even know much about Daisy, who came over almost every day to study together. He knew her parents were German, that she had two sisters and was incredibly good at math, but none of those things had been learned through her. He knew of her family because they were next-door neighbors, and he knew of her grades because they were in the same math class, not because they talked much. His friends only talked about random things that barely scratched the surface of who they were.
***
The drive back home from baseball practice usually took about twenty minutes. Out the window, he saw the trees that lined the highway, sunlight peeking through the leaves. In the distance, the skyscrapers that inhabited the town drew nearer, neon signs and streetlights already on. The first building that flew past his window was an abandoned subway entrance, marked by a single pole next to a railing that disappeared into cement, no signs nearby. He’d never seen anyone there.
“Have you ever…” he heard himself say, without really thinking about the rest of that sentence.
His mother remained silent behind the steering wheel, eyes out at the road ahead.
Before starting over, he thought of a way to finish the question. “Do you have any best friends?”
“Of course I do.” Her eyebrows quirked a bit, frowning in the middle. “Petra and Dieter. Gertrude and the other moms. The neighbors.”
“I mean like friends you’ve known for years, that you met in high school.”
“Oh.” The corners of her lips twitched as if she were about to laugh. “God, no; nobody makes any meaningful friends in high school. If I crossed paths with any of them today, they wouldn’t even recognize me.”
Come to think of it, Ryan hadn’t kept any high school friends either. Theodore thought it’d been because of what had happened, but what his mother said made sense; high school friendships simply didn’t last. It must be one of those unexplainable things that everyone went through, like acne or crushes. Making friends in high school could be a sort of phase too. It’d certainly explain why he didn’t feel a connection with any of his friends; it just wasn’t supposed to be.
The thought pushed his shoulders down, feet touching under the seat. Hopefully, he’d make some cool new friends in college, real ones that shared his interests and played bass. Ryan would have long graduated by then, but they could still hang out and share friends. He’d love to learn more about the nameless people his brother knew.
***
Sunlight filtered in through the windows, softened by the half-drawn curtains. A long strip fell over Daisy’s shoulder, blonde curls shining. She pored over the homework as usual, trying to figure out the answer to a question with little communication other than what number did you get? and I’m pretty sure this is the right one. He was her sounding board, which was fine; his mother liked having her over and encouraged their friendship.
“What do you think about our friends from school?” he asked, pencil tapping on his notebook.
Daisy looked up from the homework. Her eyes glanced off with her thoughts. “The boys are stupid, but they can still be pretty funny. Nadia is very talented at crafts and knows how to French braid. She said she’d teach me sometime. Hannah takes Okichitaw—did you know that? It’s a type of martial arts. Her dad has a gym and teaches a whole lot of people.”
He stared at her. “How do you know so much about them?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know; we talk. If you talked more, you’d know stuff too, but you’re always so quiet.”
“I just don’t have a lot to say.”
“Then don’t expect them to say anything either.”
For as much as it hurt to hear it, he guessed that was fair. Those kids wouldn’t be sticking around after high school anyway; it wouldn’t matter whether he actually got to know them or not. Starting now wouldn’t make a difference. Daisy probably didn’t count, because they were neighbors and most of his mother’s friends were her neighbors.
***
Every time his parents drove past one of the abandoned subway entrances, he thought about Ryan’s friends and what they might be doing. He didn’t think they’d be in there, but the tunnels still reminded him of them. They weren’t rats just because they liked to party; it wasn’t right to stereotype people like that, especially since his brother was included in the group, but he still thought about it.
His late-night escapades into Ryan’s room soon became his only way to get any intel on those guys. On good nights, Ryan would tell him about the parties they’d been going to and all the people they’d met, never once mentioning the tunnels, which brought him great relief. On bad ones, Ryan was quick to tell him to make some friends of his own and start knocking before barging in. Theodore never did; he didn’t see the point. His own door was always open, even when Ethel ended up in the hallway. Granted she only ever stared at his parents’ door, but still.
For a while, all he could think about were the cool parties he’d go to and the new people he’d get to meet. In Ryan’s room, he never remembered to ask him what college was really like, too fascinated by the lives his friends lived, experiencing them vicariously; the pretty drinks, the flashing lights, the freedom. He’d ask his mother for some tips, but she only had a high school diploma, and anyway, it was too early to think about any of that just yet.
***
That Christmas, his mother let Ryan stay home. They always spent it up north with Henry’s side of the family, despite how vocal Ryan was about not wanting to go. This time, when the trip came up and he refused to participate, there wasn’t an argument. Carolyn simply looked at him from across the table and told him he could stay. The tone she used was so desolate that even Theodore felt bad for her. Then, she turned back to Henry and resumed their discussion; who’d be going this year and how many presents they’d have to bring.
Ryan didn’t say anything else—he barely spoke in front of their parents now—but Theodore could see how strongly he held the fork in his fist, a breath caught in his throat. He must’ve been preparing for the fight, and now that there wouldn’t be one, he didn’t have anything else to say. He passed Theodore a brief glance before resuming his dinner.
Henry’s family lived in Washington state. It wasn’t a big one; he only had two siblings, both married with one child each. Work had spread them out to different cities, all near each other; Henry was the one who lived the farthest. His parents remained in the house where he and his siblings had grown up in, four hours from Seattle.
In place of a summer home, Theodore’s grandparents had a log cabin that looked just like the ones from the movies, lost in the middle of the woods. The best part of these holiday slumber parties, in Theodore’s opinion, was that he got to sleep in the same room as his mother again, even if his father was there too. That was the only instance in which that got a pass nowadays.
For the first time, the drive north was quiet. His mother turned the radio on from time to time and his father even struck up some conversations with them, asking her if she was anxious about the roast’s reception and asking him what kind of presents he thought he’d get. Theodore could feel his heart race from the question, hands sweating despite the fact that Ryan wasn’t in the car and nothing bad would happen. Still, a voice in the back of his mind kept him painfully aware of how quickly he could botch this and end up getting spanked on the side of the road. He played it safe the whole way over, avoiding any possible confrontation. His father’s good humor was proof of his success. He missed Ryan the whole time, but part of him was still a little glad that he hadn’t come.
***
It’d stopped snowing just last week. The air was crisp enough to burn his nose, the ground was a sheet of fluffy white. His parents’ voices traveled across the sunroom, singing happy birthday as the wind outside blew and swept some snow into a dance. All the lights were off during the song; the candles on his birthday cake cast a warm glow on his parents.
“Make a wish.” His mother’s voice was soft and tender, words spoken around a nice smile. He knew this was a special moment—they hadn’t experienced this sort of peace in a very long time.
Staring at the candles, he wished his parents would be this happy forever, and blew them out. The two adults cheered, moving to flick the lights back on with grins on their faces. Carolyn sat next to him to cut the cake, and that was when it struck him that he should’ve wished for her to be happy with Ryan around too.
Ryan got home very late that night, long after their parents had gone to bed, when the world was quiet and the creatures that roamed the darkness were starting to fade away. Theodore heard him come up the stairs, only two feet shuffling on the carpet this time. What got his attention was that, instead of going straight down the hallway, Ryan came to his room.
At first, he thought it was Ethel who’d taken a sudden interest in him, but as Ryan crossed the carpeted floor, he noticed his short height and normal human features. While Ethel was tall and skinny with an impossibly long neck, Ryan was short and stout with a regular human neck. His silhouette tip-toed in the dark, unaware of Theodore’s consciousness. He lay perfectly awake, wrapped in the warmth of his sheets. Neither one of them made a single noise; Ryan placed something on his desk and left soon after.
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told his brother he was awake. He waited until the soft click of Ryan’s door before getting up to inspect his present. Inside a thin envelope were a twenty-dollar bill and a piece of paper. He brought the paper close to the window to read it, dimly illuminated by the moonlight. In Ryan’s handwriting, it read a shopping trip coupon. He promptly remembered what Ryan’s friend had told him last year, if his mother was the one who dressed him up, and how the others had laughed at it. Heat crawled up his neck. He’d never redeem the coupon.
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