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A Promise
A Promise

A Promise

NobodyImportantNobodyImportant
1 Review

I’m just tired, he promised himself. Five more minutes and I’ll get up. He rolled over, tugging the blankets tighter over his head to shut out the burning sun glaring through the chinks in the blinds. He sighed, closing his eyes as his breathing slowed. Soft inhales and exhales, mimicking the easy sounds of the tower fan as it twisted, gently moving the heavy air through the room.

Twenty minutes later, his third alarm began to blare, furious that he was still sleeping. He groaned, cracking his eyelids open even as a bone-deep weariness tried to force them closed once more. He sat up, heaving his legs over the side of the bed, grasping for his phone. He cursed as his fingertips jammed against the table, and then cursed again as he heard the familiar sound of his phone slamming into the floor. He scrubbed at his face with the palms of his hands, pushing the heels deep into his eyes. The alarm still howled its irritated song, an abrasive jangle of sharp-edged notes. He thought it was supposed to be an electronic rendition of “Walking on Sunshine”, but he wasn’t sure. Didn't much care, either. He just wished it would shut up. Just wished for silence.

He sat there for several minutes, trying to decide if it was worth the effort to try and dig beneath the nightstand for his phone, or if he should just wait until it stopped on its own. He hadn’t plugged it in last night; surely the battery was about empty. Hopefully. At last, he sighed, pushing himself slowly off the bed and falling to his knees on the carpet. The bare skin of his knees itched where they pressed against the shag, and he winced as he felt a goathead pierce deep enough to draw blood. He shifted his weight so that he could pull it out, yelping as he felt another pressing into his calf. I’ll vacuum today, he promised himself, grimacing as he stretched his arm between the wooden legs and sighing as he pushed the side button to finally find that blessed silence.

Exhaustion kept him on the carpet for several minutes before he stood, wincing as surveyed the 14 missed calls glaring at him from the screen. “Shit,” he muttered. “She's going to be so pissed.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair, hating how it came away feeling grimy and oiled. I’ll take a shower, he promised himself. “Maybe I can still make the reception.”

He stumbled to the bathroom, flipping on the shower. It took about fifteen minutes to heat up, and even then it wasn’t much more than frigid, but he knew he needed to wash away the thick musk that always came with sleeping for days at a time. Practically falling into the only chair he owned, he pulled on his headphones and tapped the call button, bracing himself for the tirade he knew was coming.

She answered before the first ring finished, but instead of anger in her voice, he heard fear and thinly veiled concern. She tried to hide it, but he had known her too long. “Hey- I- you missed the wedding,” she started awkwardly.

“I know, I’m so sorry.” His hand subconsciously picked at a scab on his wrist as he spoke. “I worked late last night," he lied, "picked up an extra shift."

“Oh.” She paused, and he could hear the thousands of questions buzzing just on the edge of her tongue. “I- is everything okay?”

He always hated the way she worried about him, but today, he couldn’t find the energy to even dredge up a shred of irritation. He sighed, long and heavy. “Yeah, of course. I’m just tired. I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “How did it go? Did anyone object?”

She laughed, a soft, breathy thing; a release of tension. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that he was just exhausted. And I am, he promised himself. Just tired. “No. But Erik’s mom looked like she was about to pull a muscle from clenching her jaw so tight.”

He laughed dryly, “Knowing that woman, if she sprains her jaw, it's not from keeping it shut.”

He heard it again, that tentative sound, more sigh than laugh. “You’re terrible. She's not that bad.

After a long moment of silence, she spoke again. Gently, as though approaching a baby bird or a child on the verge of breaking down in tears. “The reception isn’t until tomorrow… do you think you’ll make it?”

“Of course,” he promised, meaning it with every fiber of his being. “I’ll catch up on sleep and be there. I’ll be early, even.”

“Okay.” she paused, and he could feel her straining to come up with the right words. “I know it’s terrible to be tired all the time, but you’re.. You’re managing, right? You’re not… doing the thing anymore?”

He yanked his hand away from where it was still moving of its own accord, pulling up scab after scab until he could hear the blood dripping onto the floor. “No, sis. I promise.”

She let out the breath she was holding. “Okay, good. Sorry, I just- I want you to be okay.”

His heart twisted as she believed his lie. How could she not believe him, though? He was her older brother, he would never lie to her. He had raised her since their parents died eight years ago; she trusted him implicitly. Guilt bubbled in his throat like acid. I’ll never lie to her again, he promised himself, already knowing he was lying even as he swore it.

He tried to shake the fog from his mind, tried to find his own words to express the slowly stirring ball of emotion beginning to wake inside his chest: all of the things he wanted to tell her, wanted to share. “ I know,” he said at last. “I’ll be alright. And- thank you.”

He could see the small sad smile crossing her lips, could hear it in her voice and feel it in her words. “It’ll get better, I promise. I love you, Carter.”

He felt the bonds around his heart loosen a bit. “I love you too, kid.” A smile curled his lips, bittersweet and tired. “And hey, I’m happy for you; congratulations.”

He heard a smile in her voice this time, a real one: solid and bright. “Thanks. I really love him, you know?”

He smiled back, “I know.”
His smile lasted until he heard the click on the other end of the line. The one that meant she had hung up. The one that meant he was alone again. Sighing, he looked down at the blood wending its sinuous track towards the linoleum. The sight of it teased him, promised him clarity, promised him a release from the blinding fog of exhaustion shadowing everything around him. His eyes drifted towards the razor sitting on the edge of the sink, the humidity in the air beginning to condensate on the blade, building to a single drop that grew heavier as he watched, slipping off the razor edge to splash on the floor.

He swallowed hard. “I just don't want to be tired anymore,” he murmured to himself. He tried to convince himself he wasn’t going to do it, but he was already moving towards it. Just once, he promised himself. Just enough to wake me up, then I’ll take a shower.
For once, the water was boiling hot where it streamed from the showerhead, filling the bathroom with a steam so thick he couldn’t see past the straight-razor gleaming from its perch. He stepped forward, his phone forgotten on the table, driven only by a desperate need to wake up, to jolt himself from the fog of his own mind. As he disappeared into the steam, softly shutting the door behind him to send clouds billowing in quiet tornados, he promised himself again, even as the blood from nearly healed and more recent wounds mingled together where they dropped and crashed against the floor: Just once, he swore to himself. Just once.

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About The Author
NobodyImportant
NobodyImportant
About This Story
Audience
15+
Posted
16 Aug, 2021
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Words
1,353
Read Time
6 mins
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0
Recommend's
2 (View)
Rating
5.0 (1 review)
Views
1,023

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