The Secret Life Of Billy Chase 9 - 42. Chapter 42

Thursday

- Well...I can honestly say that today didn't go the way I had planned it to. Sometimes, I think Brandon and I are actually cursed when it comes to spending any time together at all. I mean, it's not like we made any definite plans or anything for tonight, but...awww, shit. All I wanted was to spend some much needed selfish time with my boyfriend tonight! Is that too much to ask for? Everybody else in my life gets to just dial me up whenever they feel like it and expect immediate 'service' from me. And then they just vanish until they decide they need me again. I can't say that I didn't set myself up for that kind of problem when it comes to me wanting to help everybody all the time. But...sometimes it just makes me feel used. You know?

It's like..."Oh? I guess I'm important now. Suddenly you can't live without me?"

The whole dilemma falls somewhere between Jimmy LaPlane's "Other people matter" philosophy, and Ian's "Love me NOW, because when I'm famous, it'll be too late" ideology. I just wish other people swooped down to save the day for me when I was hurting the way I'd gladly do for them. Maybe that's a bratty request on my part. But today? I really didn't care. I wanted to be with Brandon. He deserved my undivided attention, and I was fully prepared to ignore the rest of the whole world for a while so I'd have the energy to give it to him.

I wish I had it in me to not feel bad about ignoring the people I care about. Or 'claim' to care about, at least. But it grinds on my nerves, and even when I try my hardest to blow them off so I can enjoy a life of my own for once...I end up getting no joy out of it at all in the long run. So what's the point?

I can either feel like a total douchebag for not being a slave to other people's needs...or I can actually become a slave to other people's needs. There's no way for me to win. There's got to be a way out of this. There's just GOT to be.

Ugh!

Listen to me, complaining. I shouldn't be. Not in this case.

I guess it was for a good cause. But I know plenty of people with a lesser conscience who would have chosen their boyfriend over...'this'.

I barely know what I'm saying right now. I'm just...tired, I guess.

I was doing my best to insulate myself from outside interference tonight. Jimmy sent me a message, which I didn't even bother to read, because I was sure that it was going to put me in a bad mood. And if that's all Jimmy's gonna be good for from here on out, then I'm just not interested in talking to him at all anymore. Not out of hatred or resentment, mind you. It's just not worth the frustration. I was honest about how I felt about him, I'm sticking to that, and that's all there is to it. So what's his deal? I wasn't in the mood to be abused by his childish tantrums today. i, honestly, don't even care anymore.

Ian sent me a message too. It seemed innocent enough. Just something to say hi...with a little smiley face following it. I like Ian a lot. He's one of the sweetest guys that I know and I consider him a dear friend. But I also know what he's dealing with right now, concerning the whole Bobby Jinette situation. And if I send him a message now...it's only going to be a few minutes before he starts pouring that mess out at my feet, and the next hour will be spent trying to make him feel better and giving him hope about a problem that may, in fact, be hopeless. Bobby may just be a lost case when it comes to him being comfortable enough to finding happiness on his own. As much as I LOVE Ian...sighhhh...I just wanted to smile today, k? I wanted to talk to my Brandon and maybe go over there to cuddle and kiss and feel good about life. No offense to Ian, of course. But how can I be any good to him at all if I don't recharge my battery every now and then with some good fortune of my own? It's hard playing the role of the 'sin eater' every day of my life. I need a break sometimes.

Why can't people ever understand that?

Even Sam sent me a quick message today. And Sam is the best friend I've ever had, and ever WILL have! There's no disputing that. And yet...I hesitated to write him back. Why? I can't explain it. I just...I wanted ONE day for 'me'. Just one. Not worrying about Jimmy, or Bobby and Ian, or Sam, or Taylor and Garrett and Robin and AJ at work, and not thinking about my mom and Mr. Franks...goddammitt, I just want 24 hours of fucking PEACE!!! Can't people put their problems on hold for a few hours? Or, God forbid, find a way to deal with them on their own for a while so I can actually enjoy my existence outside of helping them through their bullshit?

Shit. I'm sorry. I don't mean that.

No, seriously...I don't. I'm just angry at what happened tonight. Maybe I need a vacation much more than I thought I did. I'm quickly burning out on the 'Superman' routine. I just want to be a loving boyfriend for a while. The Summer is almost over and I feel like I wasted half of it on...well...other people. What have I done for me? I try to do the right thing, but I have to wonder sometimes...does it even matter?

People are addicted to misery. If I 'save' them today, there will just be another problem tomorrow. They can't live without the drama. The obsession isn't in getting help for their issues...their obsession is in the NEED to get help for their issues. Fix one problem? Well, how will they find a way to ask for more help? They need to create another dramatic issue for you to fix. It's what fuels their sense of importance, I think. Sometimes...I think I do that too. Maybe I should stop that.

Alright...so here's the scoop on what happened...

I was texting back and forth with Brandon, and we were both giggling and having fun just getting time to chit chat for a while. It was relaxed. Effortless. A few giggles, a few moments of deep chit chat...a few moments of boyish naughtiness thrown in for good measure. There's something so soothing about being so open with someone that I love so much. Being able to share my soul with someone beautiful. There's nothing else like it in the world. I wish I could have called him up to talk on the phone, but my mom can be a bit of an eavesdropper when she wants to be. Something about having to restrain myself for the sake of keeping her from flipping out on me just...it ruined the freedom of us just being able to let our conversation flow naturally. Especially with the way that Brandon feels about his dad finding out. It would be best for us to not poke that hornet's nest with a stick until he was ready to forward with his coming out. I'm not pressuring him. I like us just the way we are right now. It's kinda sweet.

Then...my phone rings, and Trace's number shows up. I wasn't really sure that he was talking to me or not these days. It can be difficult to tell with him sometimes. I was curious, but...I didn't answer him. I sent it to voicemail. It's not like I was trying to be rude, it's just...like I said...I wanted a life of my own. If I don't force myself to take some time for myself every now and then, other people will drain every last minute and spark of energy that I have until I'm too empty to do much of anything other than go to sleep and wake up early enough to start all over again tomorrow. I didn't sign up to be anybody's superhero. Brandon and I have a chance at building something beautiful here. Something that I had almost thrown away. Stupid. So, I was totally expecting to just call Trace back tomorrow and find out what kind of spontaneously wacky adventure he had planned to get me involved in tonight.

Then my phone rang again.

Trace.

I told Brandon, "Hold on a sec, babe. K? My phone's ringing." We were in the middle of saying 'I miss you' to one another, and I was pretty sure that we were getting ready to come up with some kind of plan to get together tonight. Maybe not for hot buttery boy sex or anything, hehehe...but being able to look into his bright eyes and maybe sneak a kiss or two would have been to fill my heart to the point of bursting.

But when I switched over to find out what Trace wanted...all I heard was sniffles on the other end of the line.

Little sniffles. Tiny, high pitched whimpers. Even after I said hello.

Then I'm like, "Mikey?" He seemed somewhat relieved to hear my voice, but not by much. "Hey...shhh...what's wrong, buddy?"

He tried to stop sobbing long enough to say, "I saw your number in Tracey's phone, so I clicked the button thingy. I'm sorry."

I said, "No need to be sorry. it's ok. I'm here. What's the matter?"

Mikey sniffled again, and he said, "Tracey was in the room over there, and he made one of daddy's bottles go empty...and now he won't wake up. I told him, 'Wake up! Wake up', but he just keeps sleeping and won't wake up..." Mikey began to cry again, and my heart broke for the poor kid immediately.

Trying to calm him down, I said, "Ok...so is your dad at home with you right now?"

He whimpered, "No. Just me and Tracey. But Tracey won't wake up. Why won't he wake up? I'm all by myself, and I'm scared..."

Shit. Nothing about this is acceptable. Not by any means. Goddammit, Trace. I told him, "I want you to listen to me carefully, Mikey, ok? I'm gonna come over and keep you guys company. So I want you to just sit tight and watch to see if Trace wakes up. I'll be there as soon as I can."

But Mikey wailed, "Daddy says I can't open the door for anybody. He says 'don't you ever'..."

I'm like, "You don't have to open the door. Just leave it unlocked, and I'll ring the bell to let you know I'm there. Ok?" Probably not a good thing to teach him, but I was going to have to get in somehow.

I could tell that he was working it out in his head, and finally he softly submitted, "M'kay..."

i said, "Alright. I'm on my way. You want to stay on the phone with me? So you can keep me company too?"

Again, he said, "M'kay..."

I let Brandon know that I had to go. As much as I was looking forward to talking to him some more and possibly getting together for a bit...this was an emergency. It looks like the curse continues. Fate was just going to keep trying to get my attention until I gave it away. Sighhh...maybe next time, sweetheart. I love you.

After telling my mom that I was headed to Sam's for a little bit, hoping she wouldn't ask any questions about where I was really headed, I hopped on my bike and got out to Trace's house as fast as I could. Mikey stayed on the phone, and I could practically hear his tears drying up a little bit, his voice...while still shaky...not as weak and helpless as it was when he first called. I dropped my bike off on the side of the house and told him, "I'm walking up to the door now, Mikey, ok? Here's the doorbell. You hear it?"

He said, "Uh huh!"

I'm like, "Ok. I'm coming in your house now. I'll be right there." I walked up the stairs to Trace's room, and saw little Mikey looking smaller than ever, his knees tucked up to his shoulders as he sat on the floor next to the passed out body of his big brother. Jesus...he reeked of booze, a great deal of it was spilled all over his shirt, he was missing a sock...what the hell happened? Mikey looked so sad, and he began to cry again as he got up and ran into my arms. I picked him up and hugged him as he sobbed on my shoulder. I'm like, "It's ok, bud. Trace is gonna be fine. I promise." He didn't want to let go of the constricting grip he had around my neck, but even for a little boy, he was a bit too heavy for me to carry for any extended length of time. So I put him down and wiped some of the tears from his eyes. I said, "I want you to do me a favor. I want you to go to your room and turn the TV on. Do you have something fun that you can watch?"

He said, "I have my magic donkey movie in the disc player..."

Ok...whatever that is. I'm like, "Ok. You know how to set it up, right? Go watch your...'magic donkey' movie, and I'm gonna see if I can get Trace to wake up and maybe we'll watch it with you." He nodded somberly and thanked me before leaving me in the room with what might as well have been a lifeless corpse.

I can't say that I have any experience with these things, whatsoever...but despite Mikey's understandable panic, Trace was still breathing. Even snoring a little bit. So that's a good sign, right? I sat on his bed and began looking through Youtube searches to see if I could find something on alcohol abuse. I wasn't sure where to start, and everything seemed to be centered on people who have spent an entire lifetime drinking and not dealing with any emergencies. Then...my searches took a very dark turn. Terms like 'alcohol poisoning' began to pop up...and I started to get chills. Did you know that you could actually DIE from guzzling too much alcohol at one time??? I didn't even know that was a thing. Getting sick, sure. Passing out, definitely. But DEATH??? Jesus Christ!

After about ten minutes, I was finding myself conflicted over whether or not I should actually call an ambulance just to make sure Trace wasn't a lot worse off than I thought he was. It might mean BIG trouble for me, and even BIGGER trouble for him...but at least he'd be alive. However, I noticed Trace's arm move a little bit, and he reached a hand up to rub his nose a few times before snoring a bit louder than before.

What the...???

I took the opportunity to scoot down to the floor and shake Trace by his shoulders. Gently at first, but when I heard him moan weakly for me to stop, I began to shake harder. Son of a bitch, you wake up! I refused to leave him alone, and he finally got frustrated enough to open his eyes and angrily slap my hand away. He was like, "What? What are you doing? Leave me lone..." Then his eyes began to focus on my face, and he wrinkled his forehead. Like, "Billy? Dude...what are you doing here? Where am I?"

Feeling the anger building inside, I said, "You're at home. Passed out on the floor like a fucking loser." I was so frustrated with him at that moment. Upset that this trip over here was even necessary. I'm like, "Your baby brother had to find your phone, and hit the 'button thingy' with my name on it...just so he could tell me that you might be DEAD in here!"

Now rubbing his eyes, Trace suddenly had a touch of hysteria shoot through him...but when he tried to quickly sit up, he was so dizzy and disoriented that he almost fell right back down to his bedroom floor again. He asked me, "Mikey? Where is Mikey? Is he ok?"

I'm like, "He's in the other room. Somewhere safe where he doesn't have to see you like this. He honestly thought you were never going to wake up again. He was crying his eyes out."

Trace could barely stay conscious, but he fought off his drunken stupor to try to get up again. He said, "Don't be so dramatic. Where is he? What time is it? I wanna see him. I'll...I'll tell him ok. I'll let him know that I just...I'm..."

He was so off balance that I just leaned him up against the side of his bed and sat next to him. The only thing that kept me from wanting to beat the living shit out of him at that moment was the fact that I was so relieved that he hadn't died right there on the floor in front of me. With a heavy sigh, I told him, "You're an asshole. You know that?"

He groaned to himself, running his hands through his hair. He's like, "Give me a break, Billy. I overdid it with the drinking tonight. I get it. Terrible me...blah blah blah..."

Insulted by his attitude, I growled, "No! NOT 'blah bah blah'! Do you have any idea what you're doing to yourself? Do you have any idea how terrified Mikey was tonight? What is the fucking POINT of all of this? You're drinking yourself to death, you're hiding out from the rest of the world, you're smoking weed...what is this all about?"

He's like, "I'm just having fun. Don't you remember what it was like, dude? When you and I used to have fun?"

i said, "This isn't hanging out in an aquarium after it closes or visiting our local bowling alley, Trace! This is serious! You've got a major problem, and I'm sick of having to sit here and watch you self destruct over and over again."

"THEN DON'T WATCH!!!" He snapped back. He's like, "I didn't ask you to come over here. I don't need your help. Captain Billy...back to save another luckless degenerate like me. Well, I'm awake now, so you can go back to feeling good about yourself. Congratulations." I didn't even know how to respond to that. He was like, "What? Do you need me to shower you with more praise and worship? Is that it? 'Oh thank you, Billy Chase! You're so awesome! Everybody loves you because you're so sweet and cute and funny and helpful...I wish I could be more like you someday!' Well, guess what? I'm not. I never will be. My life was fucked up long before you became a part of it, believe me."

I'm like, "Don't you dare project your issues onto me and try to make any of this my fault. I'm here to HELP you. If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't pretend to. But you're too lost in your own bullshit to see that." I said, but as Trace closed his eyes and leaned his head back, I gave him a light smack to make sure he was still awake. I told him, "Maybe you've got problems. I get it. I've got problems. My mom and dad have problems. The WORLD has problems, Trace. But this isn't how you deal with them. You're only making things worse. The difference is...you've got people who are standing right here in front of you who are willing to help you when you need it. Who can pick you up when you fall. People like Mikey who are counting on you to set a good example. What happens the day you come home and find himpassed out on the floor with an empty bottle beside him? Huh?"

He gave me a harsh look and said, "That would never happen."

I said, "Funny...I used to think the same thing about you." And it was true. Trace could be restless and impulsive to a fault sometimes...but I never thought I'd end up sitting on his bedroom floor, wondering if he was going to make it through the night without kicking the bucket on me. I told him, "Look...I may not be able to bring my entire life to a screeching halt and magically appear every time you feel the need to lean on a good friend...but that doesn't mean I'm not a good friend. I CARE about you, Trace. I don't like seeing you like this. In a way...it hurts me too."

Trace put his hands up to his face, as if trying to rub the intoxication out of his eyes. And he groaned, "I didn't mean to drink that much, ok? Seriously. I just...I was feeling really down, and I was trying to numb myself from the pain of having to 'think' so much. Whenever the bad thoughts came back, I poured myself another glass. And I just wanted my peace of mind to last for longer than a few minutes at a time. So my 'pours' got a little heavy...and before I knew it, I was waking up to your ugly mug." He smirked a bit, but for the first time...his adorable grin wasn't contagious.

I was like, "You can just...talk to me, ya know? When you feel like that."

But he says, "I told you, Billy...I'm done relying on other people for my problems. SO done. That's only going to lead to me being left out to dry while the people I trust the most let me down. I'm just...I'm so tired of being let down, Billy." He said, his eyes getting misty. He sadly added, "I'm better off being alone. At least that way, when things turn to shit...I don't have anybody to blame but myself. I can live with that. More than I can live with being made out to be a sucker again."

With a sigh, I put an arm around Trace's shoulders and pulled him closer. I was like, "You're not a 'sucker', Trace. Sometimes we just get involved with people that we...don't necessarily understand. That's all."

Trace was like, "Is it a bad thing that I, legit, hate my dad? And my mom? I mean...genetically speaking, I can either turn out to be a deadbeat alcoholic or a neurotic psychopath. And I don't want that life, Billy. Not for me. Certainly not for Mikey." Then he was like, "I feel like...I'm gonna spend the rest of my life wondering what kind of person I'd be...if I had your dad instead of mine. You know? He made me feel like...I could be something special. He made me feel like I was worth saving. I didn't know how much I needed that until I heard him say it."

I was like, "You know...I love my dad, and he's a good guy..." Ugh! I could NOT believe what I was about to say out loud, and yet, I said it anyway. "...But he's no saint, you know?"

Trace looked confused at first, and then almost offended that I would say such a thing. He's like, "You're dad's perfect, Billy. Admit it."

But I sat up straight, and I said, "No...he's not. He has faults just like anybody else. And I love him with all my heart, but the truth is...he bailed on us. On me and my mom. He took the easy route and decided to hit the reset button on his whole life...not caring about the fact that it was hitting the reset button on our lives too. He just...he turned tail and he left us behind to go be happy somewhere else." I looked down at my feet as this strange feeling washed over me. I couldn't explain it, but it felt like the truth. I was like, "My dad wanted to be happy, and I'm glad he found what he thinks he was looking for. But it doesn't change the fact that he basically abandoned us. And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't for selfish reasons. I don't hate him...but he's no superhero, Trace. None of us are. None of us should be expected to be."

This really harsh pinch of guilt began to jab me in the side. And I started thinking about what I said to my mom. What she said to me. And this lousy stalemate that we've been locked into for this whole week. Maybe I wasn't being fair to her after all. Maybe...maybe I just don't know what to feel anymore.

Ideas of right and wrong were so much easier to figure out when I was little.

Complex emotions suck.

Trace leaned his head on my shoulder, and tears began to roll down his cheeks as we sat there in silence. Then he said, "We are so irreversibly fucked up, you and me."

And I responded with, "Life wouldn't be this interesting if we weren't."

Suddenly, Mikey peeked his head around the door and saw his big brother sitting in an upright position. He came charging in, screaming his name so loud that his voice squeaked as he jumped on Trace and wrapped his arms around him. Trace nearly fell over from the assault, but both of them were crying softly as they bonded in a way that I imagine only two brothers can.

It wasn't long after that I figured Trace was going to be ok, and alert enough to keep Mikey safe until he went to bed. So I got up, gave him a long, meaningful, hug, and decided to take off before it got to be too late.

I feel like I did a really good thing tonight. Maybe I had to sacrifice time with my boyfriend, and I'm a little drained from the experience...but helping other people is what we're supposed to do when we can, right? Giving them hope? And comfort? Supporting them when they need it, and not just when it's 'convenient' for me to do so?

People may think that I have a superhero complex...but I don't take that as an insult. Better that than always looking for help and never giving anything back in return. Better that than ignoring people in need. If I had to choose...I'd rather be a failed superhero than a successful bystander. Any day of the week.

My mom was asleep when I got home, but...I'm thinking that it might be time that we talked about this Mr. Phillips situation some more. I'm NOT saying that I like this any more than I did before! But...if my dad can walk out on us for his own selfish reasons...and if I can ignore texts and phone calls for MY own selfish reasons concerning Brandon...

Well...maybe my mom is entitled to go for broke every once in a while too. It's only fair, after all.

Whatever. I'm exhausted. Tonight took a lot out of me, and now I don't have time for anything else at all. I'm just going to wrap this up and get some sleep. Whatever I had to do tonight...i guess it can wait.

I'll write more later.

- Billy