King looked back as the train began moving. He watched as she became smaller and smaller until he could see her no more then he turned around and looked ahead. He adjusted his bag to his other shoulder when he noticed it was inconveniencing the old woman sitted next to him and then he leaned back into his seat immersing himself in thoughts of her; his best friend, Joan Michaels. She was always on his mind. He had teased her about thinking of him always but he was also guilty of that. She was not exactly the first thing he thought of when he woke and the last thing he thought before he slept but she was constantly on his mind. Even when he had other stuffs on his mind; she was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pop up at the slightest invitation.
It was like he was becoming more aware of her than ever before. He was noticing things about her that he had never given much thought to before, he was becoming more self conscious in her presence.
That morning before going to school, he had spent 30 minutes searching for the right hoodie to wear and then he had spent an eternity brushing his hair and making sure the front edges of his hair were neatly curled, in front of the mirror because she liked it. She wouldn’t appreciate it if she heard, mirrors weren’t her thing. And then he had dumped his everyday black converse for a white one, all that because he was coming over to her house later that day.
He had felt deflated when she had been too angry to notice the effort he made. But she had noticed when they finally left the bed to make dinner and she complimented him. It had practically made his day including the quick admiring looks she stole at him when she thought he wasn’t looking till he entered the train. His effort had been worth it.
He chuckled inwardly. As much as he liked the new feelings and behaviours, he feared it. He knew what they meant. It wasn’t unusual, it happened a lot in bestfriend relationships. He was falling for her, he was falling for his best friend.
He opened the door to the house he shared with his older brother, Jamal. It was dark as expected and silent. His heart thudded in his chest as he entered and shut the door. He really hoped Jamal was not home. He had put off coming home for as long as he could but he couldn’t escape it any longer. He was home and he had to face whatever was in store for him. He tiptoed his way in the dark to his room at the back of the bungalow. He opened his bedroom door and entered, it was also dark. Immediately he shut the door and locked it, an arm went tight around his neck.
“Hello brother, long time no see.”
That voice sent chills down his spine. He gagged as the pressure around his neck increased, it was choking him. His bag dropped to the floor as he struggled to rid his neck of the pressure.
“Where were you? Where did you go to?” Jamal asked. Jamal’s arm came off and he fell to the floor on his knees, coughing heavily. A kick to his back sent him sprawling on the floor. The sudden kick and his coughing made him wretch, vomit spilling out of his mouth to the floor.
“I said where were you!?” Jamal shouted furiously. Another kick.
“You dare leave my house for a whole night and dissapear!?”
Another kick. More vomit.
“I heard you were in school. So where did you spend the night? At some whore's house!?”
More kicks. More vomit. His body trembled violently.
“Answer me!” Jamal roared, kicking more violently.
King did not respond, he knew better. Responding would only make things worse, would only bring blows and whips. Jamal would soon tire out and leave. He just had to endure; so he curled up into himself and endured.
“So you now spend nights with prostitutes!? Huh!? Is that how I trained you!?”
More kicks.
The truth was that he hadn’t left Joan’s house the previous night. He had stayed under her bed till early morning when he had sneaked out through her back door then came home and then sneaked into his house and showered and grabbed clothes before leaving. All that he had done before it clocked 5:30am with the help of the bicycle he had brought along with him to Joan’s house. 5:30am because Jamal was practically dead during the hours before that time.
He didn’t have anywhere else to go. He had friends at school but he made sure to keep them at arm’s length to prevent anyone from coming under Jamal’s anger. Joan was different, she lived far and he made sure to be subtle about his frequent visits to her house plus his address and location, he kept a secret from her. And anytime she accompanied him to the train station, he entered a false train, a train to the direct opposite of his destination like ha had done today. He hoped she would never find out about that lie by herself, he wanted to be the one to tell her but that was when things had settled down.
The kicks reduced in ferosity and then in numbers until finally Jamal left.
He lay there in the floor, unmoving; his vomit right next to his face, his eyes closed. Despite all the pain, all he could think of was Joan. She had become his saviour in moments like this. Now unlike before, when the kicks came and the blows and the hits and the whips, it didn’t bother him as much as before. He didn’t feel the pain so much because he called on her and she answered. She invited him to her room and would make him watch her draw pictures of him and tell him the latest in her life and when it was over, she would pet him and clean his wounds and then send him back with a kiss; so that everytime, no matter the injuries he sustained on his body, his soul wasn’t broken. He still felt happy, like a normal eighteen year old adult living a normal life with the best friend he loved.