My sweet, sweet Arabella. I dreamnt about her last night. The curve of her waist and hips, the feel of her dainty finger tips dancing over my skin. She told me that she thinks I'm a lyrical genius. She thinks I'm worth her time. Her laugh could cure cancer its so beautiful. Her hands fit perfectly in mine, and when I hold them I never want to let go.
But that's exactly what happened when my alarm clock started blaring an old Beatles song, waking me up from the best dream I have had in months. I smacked the stupid clock and groaned, burying my head in my pillow again.
My brother Chett is forcing me to leave my house today. He's inviting me over for a grill out. If I'm being completely honest, I don't really want to go. But Chett is very stubborn, extremely stubborn and must have his way, so I have no choice but to go.
Finally I think up a plan. Tiredly, I reach over and pick up my phone off of bedside table, unplugging it and dialing my brother. Then I cough as the phone rings, trying to get my throat to sound even the slightest bit scratchy.
"Alex. What's up?" He says as he answers my call.
"Aye', erm, I don't think I can make it today." I clear my throat and cough subtly away from the speaker but loud enough for him to hear it.
"Don't bullshit me, Al. You're not sick. You haven't left your house in weeks, so you're coming to my house today and you're going to enjoy yourself." Although I can't see Chett's face, I can just tell by his tone of voice that he is rubbing his forehead and holding back a sigh.
He hangs up the phone and I'm left with a dead line. I drop the phone by my head, groaning loudly. I've only had about 5 hours of sleep, and I don't want to leave my bed. But I get up, scratching my head as I head to the shower.
Chett's house is rather nice. When our parents died, they left us a rather nice fortune so we can both afford to live in a decent neighborhood close to the city of New York. It comes in handy for Chett since he has a wife and a child.
"You look like shit, man." Chett mumbles after I walk in. It sounds mean, but I know he's saying that because he's concerned.
"Alex, how are you baby?" Josephine says as she puts an arm around me in a half hug as her other arm holds her year old daughter, Jess. The baby girl smiles at me, and even though I'm not feeling it in me, I smile back at her and poke her cheek. Josephine is Chett's wife. She's from Miami, but she was born in Mexico.
"I've been better. But don't worry about me, how are you guys?" I ask her. Chett went back outside to flip the grill probably, so I stayed in the kitchen and held Jess while Josephine prepared some sides for the meal we will have.
"Jess knows a few more words now, I got a raise at my job, and Chett hasn't been getting on my nerves like usual so yeah, things are pretty great!" She grins, and its a true grin of happiness. One that I haven't worn myself in months.
Then my brother opens the sliding glass door and shouts into the house. "Josey, where's the scraper?!"
Josephine screams back something I don't understand. "I DON'T USE THE GRILL, HOW SHOULD I KNOW?! ¡Saca la cabeza de tu culo!"
I think to myself, is this what married life is like? Is this what happens when you're in love? Jess looks up at me, and we stare at each other in confusion.
After dinner, Josephine went upstairs to put Jess to bed. Chett joined me in the living room and sat on the sofa across from my chair, holding his beer and taking a sip.
"What are you even doing, man?" He says, his Irish accent getting thicker.
I give him a confused look. "What?"
"You never leave your house. You haven't written anything in weeks. What is going on?" He's serious.
"Nothing... I have writers block." The room goes silent except for the tv playing the football game.
"You need to get out there. Go find someone, go get laid, go party. You're missing your life, man."
I sigh. He's always pulling this card on me. "I don't want to just go out and sleep with someone. I don't want to party." I stand. I'm feeling anxious and I don't want to be here anymore.
"Man, where are you going?" He says, lifting his hand.
"I gotta go." I walk out of the living room. I'm not happy with my brother right now, and I'm really tired of getting the same bullshit from him.
As I leave the house and walk to my car, I feel a headache coming on. Guess I won't be writing tonight.