Cid (working title) - 9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Christmas break was in full swing. Cid darted back to his hometown after leaving Billy a message that boiled down to ‘I need to clear my head. I’ll be in touch. Have a great break!’ He got a short reply of ‘Have a good one.’ Wow, that was unusual for him.

Billy wasn’t the first thing on his mind though; he was very, very ancy to see his friends again and get their spin on his ‘situation’.

As soon as he walked into the local bar and saw them again, his entire mood changed from guarded and grumpy to relieved. The place was empty at midday, for which he was grateful. This was a tiny burg, and everyone talked. Luckily, there was only two people present right now; the waitress and co-owner, Tammy and…Roxie.

A petite woman with waist-length pink hair dressed in a spaghetti-strap top and daisy dukes scurried out from behind the bar. Her ample cleavage, which was stuffed into her top, hustled along with her as she took Cid in her arms and hugged him tight.

“You rat! When did you get home?”

“Not ten minutes ago you lil pain. How are ya, Roxie?”

She swatted his arm. “I’m great, you great big asshole. So how is the best artist on campus?”

Cid sighed. “Not bad. Could be a lot better if people would leave me alone sometimes; but I hide as much as I can.”

“Chicken shit.” Roxie tsked at him and motioned for them to sit down at a nearby table. “When are you gonna move forward and find another hottie to fall head-over-heels with?”

Oy. Why did she needle at him so damn much about that? Maybe he wasn’t ready…or wouldn’t be. Ever. Not after what that jerkwad did to him. To this day he couldn’t speak the name of the man that’d ripped his heart out and squashed it like an overly-ripe pumpkin thrown against a brick wall.

“In time.” Was his weak answer.

Roxie pursed her brightly-painted lips and shot him a glare with her ice-blue eyes lined with sparkly black eyeliner.

“Bullshit. You’re stringing some poor kid along again, aren’t you?”

It was disturbing how well this woman could read him sometimes. He nodded and tried to get a look of sympathy, but instead she scowled at him and looked like she wanted to slap him.

“He’s a nice guy and all…” he tried to defend himself. “I’m just not ready!” he pressed.

She threw her hands up in the air in a grandiose Italian gesture. “Oy! You are gonna gimme a migraine every single day, boy.” Her long, pink nails poked into his chest. “You. Need. To. Move. On.”

Cid fell silent. “I don’t know if I can. You know what he did to me. I told you everything.” He remembered very much the nights where he would sit with Roxie until three in the morning just telling her all the atrocities he’d suffered in his two-year relationship from hell with…him. He could say the initials, but not the name, or maybe his inmate number was better. P. B.

“I know what he did to you, baby boy. That was three years ago and you still are as obstinate as ever.” She ran her fingers through his hair and cupped his face in her hands. “I know how awesome you can be, sweetheart. You gotta let love in and stop fighting every guy that comes your way. You can’t avoid them all.”

If only he could. “I try to.” He admitted. But in doing so, he had already hurt Billy twice and had a ‘secret admirer than he had to confess scared the living crap outta him.

“Pfft. I doubt that one. I bet you got him all worked up, dontcha?” she rolled her eyes.

Cid had to admit, she was right. Roxie was always right. She got him through high school and was there through everything with P.B. She’d warned him at the start but he didn’t listen and ended up in the hospital for six months. She was both the big sister (despite being the same age), mother, guardian, and mentor he needed. He reached for her.

“Let’s go to my place? I need to get all this off my chest.”

Roxie kissed his cheek. “You bet, honey.” She looked back at the bar. “Tammy! This shithole is yours for a while. I’ll be back for night shift.”

“Later, bosslady!” a smoky voice replied.

A small, tan hand took his large, pale one. “Come on, let’s go.”

Cid’s apartment was tiny, but there were very few rentals in town; so he considered himself lucky. Ever since foster care had ended at 18 and he was booted out of his house; he’d lived in a 700-square-foot little house with just a bed and a bath. There was a small living room with carpet from the 1960’s in a lovely hue of burnt orange. The sofa had been a gift from a friend; it was brown, overstuffed, and comfy.

The kitchen was yellow and bright, which didn’t do much to cheer him up every morning. Mornings were the unfortunate consequence of the night ending. But at least it was organized and clean. He didn’t know how to cook much, but what he did he liked to share with his friends.

As for the bedroom; a mish-mosh of blankets were tossed randomly on the queen-size mattress. The top one had a wolf howling at the moon. Cid rolled his eyes at how unoriginal it was; but it was a gift, so he didn’t mind a warm blanket.

Everywhere there was floor or wall space was covered up with canvases. Abstracts, landscapes, moonscapes, everything he could think of he painted. In the corner, right by the biggest window, was his beloved easel. It was the best gift his foster folks had ever given him and that was 15 years ago.

Tubes of oil paint were scattered everywhere, luckily the caps were on. Acrylic tubes were intermingled, as were sketching pencils. To the side was a large mason jar stuffed full of brushes. Fan, round, flat, liner, all kinds of brushes. He loved sable the most but would use anything that he could find.

“Home again.” He touted as he slung his two large duffel bags into the living room and threw himself on the sofa.

Roxie smiled and took the small side chair as her perch. “It’s so damn good to see you again!”

For once, Cid actually smiled, and widely. “I need this break so bad.”

“I bet you do! Ok, time to break out some brews and tell me all about who’s heart you broke now.”

She got up right away and came back with two beers and handed one to him.

“Time to spill your guts, walker.”

Cid opened his beer and took a long swig. He let out a deep breath and looked Roxie right in the eye.

“His name is Billy…”

“And…he’s a perfectly great guy that you threw under the bus?”

Did he? Had he gotten so cold that he was completely thoughtless? The same crimes P.B. did to him now he was doing it too?

“I dunno. I like him, honest I do! He’s a nice kid. Too nice for me.” He leaned on the edge of the sofa and soaked up how soft and comfy the fabric was.

“Go on.” She coached.

“We’ve had coffee together dozens of times, his room and mine. We’ve had lunch together too; and he talks a lot…”

She groaned. “Lemme guess. You say nothing. At least…nothing substantial.”

He sank his chin into the cushion. “I told jackass all about me and he turned around and used it on me. I can’t risk that again!” he rebutted.

“Jesus, Cid! Not every guy will do that, I swear! Love is all about risk. Putting yourself out there. Talking about your past, your likes, your life! How is he ever gonna know you if you don’t offer? Don’t you want him to?”

That was a great question. Did he? “I don’t know. I honestly don’t.”

“Yet, you say you like him and get together with him.”

“Right.”

“Has he said anything?”

Cid nodded. “Yeah. He’s a crier too; he wants to corner me and get me to claim we’re boyfriends and all that. I can’t…” he peeled at the label on his beer. “He’s too sweet for me, Roxie.”

That was the crux of it. He didn’t feel worthy of anyone like Billy. Not now, maybe not ever.

“I keep hearing can’t. Bullshit. You won’t, and you know that’s gospel truth right there. So what if he’s a crier? You’re making him do it I bet. You’re a jackass to him.” She looked him dead in the eye and he had to blink a few times.

“Fucking contacts.” He griped, knowing full well it had nothing to do with the contacts.

“Cut him loose completely or call him yours. You gotta do one or the other.”

Dammit, he was really hoping there was another option; but hearing her say it only made the choices more obvious.

“I told him springtime…then he could call me his…”

Roxie slammed her bottle down on the coffee table and leaned over him nose-to-nose. “Cid Walker! What the hell am I gonna do with you? You know damn well this isn’t how you treat a man! P.B. must’ve broken more than your body and heart baby, he broke your damn soul!”

His snarky side wanted to spit back with something so much better; but he couldn’t think of anything. Not with Roxie all fired up and in his face. He kept trying to look away, but she grabbed his chin hard and made him keep looking into her eyes. He had to blink even faster.

“I’m not worth it.” He whispered.

She cupped his face with both of her hands. “You listen to me, boy. You are worth it. You are an amazing artist who’s been hurt a lot, but you’ve survived and you’ve been healing. You need more of that obviously…but you are worth it. To my dying breath I’ll make you believe it. P.B. was a rare case; Billy sounds like his complete opposite…but you gotta give him a chance! Can you promise me that you’ll contact him during break?”

Could he?

Cid got a grip on his thoughts and they were inundated with the sweet, adorable Billy who was trying so hard. Too hard. He was making it worse than a chore to try and get close to him.

“I’ll call him.”

“You’ll what?” Roxie chided.

What more could he do? “Ok, ok, I’ll meet him! Is that what you want?”

She scowled. “Haven’t you learned anything? It’s not what I want, it’s what you want! Do you want to see him over break? I bet you have a lot to atone for, huh?”

Oy, did he. He didn’t meet Billy’s friend, or even talk to him before they all left for break. He couldn’t face him. But he knew he had to. He owed his sweet friend a grandiose apology and would be happy to meet his friend.

“I’ll call him and ask him to meet. I promise.” He never broke a promise to Roxie. Not ever.