Keegan
I wake up alone.
My fingers know it before I do. They’ve been clutching Blue’s body all night, and even before I open my eyes, my fingers grasp at the empty air and sound the alarm.
I lie there a minute, staring at the Blue-barren sheets until my brain finally starts working. Then I sit up and look around. No Blue in the bedroom.
Yanking the sheet off the bed, I wrap it around my naked body and stumble across the hall. No Blue in the bathroom.
Next, I head quietly into Blue’s room. He’s not there. I look out the window. His car is gone. A jolt of panic makes me shudder.
Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just gone for coffee.
And donuts. He knows how much I love donuts.
I go back to my room, sitting on the bed and picking up my phone from the nightstand. No word from Blue. I put the phone back on the nightstand.
Then I start walking circles, still dragging my sheet, until I sit back down on the bed and glare at the phone, willing it to ding or ring, do something. Anything.
I’m shivering.
I throw off the sheet and tug on my jeans and wriggle into a sweatshirt. True to its crazy reputation, the Oklahoma weather has once again changed overnight. It was unusually warm yesterday. Today, it’s overcast, and I can tell even without going outside that it’s much colder.
The oak tree in the front, shed of fall’s colorful leaves, looks naked and dead.
It’s been no more than ten minutes since I woke up, but I can’t stand it any longer. I grab the phone, my heart pounding.
Hey, I text, where are you? I add a smiley face, just to soften any impression of crazy, stalker-girlfriend tendencies.
Blue doesn’t respond.
Fifteen more agonizing minutes go by. I make coffee in the kitchen and let Max outside to do his business. When the coffee maker gurgles for the last time, I pour a cup and lean against the counter, taking a large sip that burns the top of my mouth and staring at the phone resting on the counter.
After a few more slow-as-molasses minutes, I punch the button to call Blue. It goes straight to voice mail.
“Fuck!” I mutter, frustrated, dropping the styrofoam coffee cup in the trash and heading back up to my room with a sigh.
Max joins me on the bed, settling down with his own heavy sigh. “Oh, Max.” I curl myself around him and try to stay calm.
I don’t know why, exactly, I have this awful feeling. But I do.
And then, at last, my phone dings: Sorry, can’t talk right now. Just needed to take care of some things.
I glare at the phone for a moment, trying to dissect my uneasiness. “What the hell, Blue?”
The three dots that signal another text pop up on the screen. I love you…
“Hmm…” You’d think those words would make me feel better. But they don’t.
When will you be back? I type.
The three dots pulse on the screen for a few moments. But nothing else appears.
Irritated, I toss the phone to the foot of the bed. Max nuzzles me, staring into my eyes with his wise gaze. I bury my face in his fur.
After a few more minutes, I get up, placing my phone on the nightstand and turning it over for good measure. I’m determined not to be pathetic, not to be waiting desperately by the phone for some guy to call or text.
Even if said guy is Blue.
I’ve got a ton of studying for finals to do and a story on the history of the land on which Ikana College sits due to Jason by 5 pm. I can easily stay busy.
I might even go to the store and pick up the ingredients for something simple I could cook for me and Blue for dinner. Cooking’s not my strong suit. I never wanted to learn when my mother tried to show me how to put together some simple meals. But it can’t be that hard.
Resolutely, I head back toward the kitchen to see what might already be in the pantry.
Kendra, seeming distracted, is slowly climbing the stairs, clutching a cup of coffee. She doesn’t give me her customary scowl. Ever since her weird interaction with Buick at the ranch, she’s been different with me.
Pretty sure I prefer the hostile, sour Kendra who had never met my brother.
We pass each other without speaking.
~~~
I don’t make it to the store. I’m just not in the mood to shop. Or cook. I figure we’ll just order something to eat when Blue gets back.
I haven’t heard any more from him.
I skipped my two morning classes and called in sick to the paper, promising to send in my story and begging off any new assignments today. That’s two days in a row I’ve missed.
But I can’t concentrate. I’m pacing my room like a caged animal. I want so much to call Blue again.
Just leave him alone. Don’t panic.
Finally, though, I can’t stand it any longer. I type a message, adding quite a few exclamation marks and emojis, and then punching the Send icon.
I’m concerned, but by now, I’m also pissed and ready to rip Blue a new one.
After a few minutes, with no response to my text, I call him. Again, it goes straight to voice mail.
What the hell is going on?
I find myself wandering into Blue’s room, with Max trailing me. I’m not sure why I’m in here. Maybe I want just to feel closer to him. Maybe it’ll help me calm down.
I stand here, looking around the room, staring at the bed where I’ve spent so many nights. I gaze at the raggedy red chair in the corner. It takes me a second to realize it’s empty. Blue must’ve taken his guitar with him.
It’s Tuesday. Blue doesn’t have any classes on Tuesday. And he didn’t say anything about having some kind of gig to play. Besides, gigs are only at night, not during the day. So why did he take his guitar?
He sure is taking a long time to do whatever he’s doing.
Sighing, I walk over to the desk and scan the papers on it, guilt prickling my nerves. I’m crossing a line here, invading Blue’s privacy. But I can’t help myself.
The papers are mostly just compositions he has been working on. He once called himself a “dinosaur” for still using paper to write music. He said it just felt better doing it old school.
I slide open a side drawer and pull out a stack of old photos held together by a rubber band: Blue in his Scout uniform, with a much younger Maria; Blue on a horse, grinning wide and showing a mouth full of braces; a surly-looking teenage Blue slumped on a bed, with long, dark hair falling into his face.
There’s also one of him in fatigues, his hair shorn, standing next to a hard-looking man in front of the house in Tulsa. That must be his father, Bill. Both of them stare stonily at the camera, both unsmiling.
What am I doing?
Now feeling more than just prickles of guilt, I wrap the rubber band around the photos and slide them back into the drawer.
Then I sit on Blue’s bed, where Max has taken his usual spot. I pile my hair on top of my head and sit there a moment, blowing out a long, frustrated breath, willing myself to relax.
Why do I have this almost paralyzing sense of dread? I should be happy. Things are going to work out. Blue and I will be together. And he will be free. Nothing else really matters.
And actually, I am happy. But it’s the uncomfortable, fragile-feeling happiness that always turns out to have been hovering on the edge of something different. Something unhappy. I don’t like the feeling.
I grab the phone, hitting the button to call Blue yet again. And yet again, it goes to voice mail.
“Hey, just trying to see how much longer you’re going to be.” I try to make my message sound casual. “Call me, Blue. Where are you? What’s going on? Just, call me, okay?”
~~
The weak winter sun is directly overhead when I shuffle out to the front porch in my slippers, a blanket over my shoulders. I’ve paced the entire house; I can’t stay inside any longer.
Kendra is on the porch swing, moving slowly back and forth.
Shit. What is she doing out here?
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
There’s an awkward silence, broken only by the creak of the swing’s chains. Kendra stares at her bare feet. She’s wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. She’s got to be cold.
She sighs and, as if she read my mind, crosses her arms and shivers. “So we haven’t really talked at all about this thing with your brother,” she says tentatively.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“I wasn’t aware there is a thing with my brother,” I snipe, scowling at her. “You’ve known each other for less than a week.”
Ignoring my pissy tone, Kendra smiles, a rare occurrence that transforms her face.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” she says with a chuckle, sounding dreamy and so not like herself. “It seems like we’ve known each other much longer though. We were just talking about that last night. It’s like we’ve known each other forever.”
Dear God, stop talking.
“I know it must seem weird to you,” she goes on. “I know it must seem like I’m robbing the cradle, but—”
I put my hand out as if I can grab the words coming out of her mouth and stuff them back in. “Kendra, you have no idea how much I don’t want to talk about this right now. Or at all. Buick’s my brother. And besides that—”
Blue’s car rounds the curve and drives slowly toward us.
The relief surging through me makes it hard to stand. I have to grab one of the wooden posts on the porch for support.
He’s back. Everything is okay. I can breathe again.
The sun hits the windshield and makes it impossible to see Blue’s face inside the car. “I’m going to kill him,” I mutter. But I don’t mean it.
The Coupe turns into the driveway, and the sun’s glare slips off the windshield, leaving the interior suddenly—brutally—visible.
The air around me seems to wobble and spin as the ignition is turned off and the driver’s door opens. I can only stare, my mouth hanging open, at the old man who gets out.
~~~
Thanks for reading Tangled Up in Blue! What do you think of Keegan and Blue’s story so far? I’d so appreciate your votes and comments. And hey, sharing it with others would be great, too! :) CH
ns 15.158.61.6da2
