It was a long walk back to Richie’s place, and he probably wasn’t expecting me back until much later. At the pace I was going at, it was probably going to take a bit more than an hour for me to get there. I probably could have called him for a ride, but I wasn’t sure how he was feeling. I wasn’t even sure if he was awake yet, and I didn’t really feel like bothering him just yet. Then again, I was headed to my house to dump all my stupid problems on him, which, in a sense, could be bothering him. My mind wasn’t working very well at the moment.
Wait. I take that back.
It was working just fine. As a matter of fact, everything was clearer than ever.
I was an idiot. I was a stupid, bitter, lying, cheating traitor with nowhere to go. I was a pitiful loser with no one to turn to but the one person who already enough of a burden on him. I was an undeserving, spoiled brat who threw away a life that most people could only dream of having. I was a fool walking from the warehouse to Richie’s house, letting the rain pour down on me.
Scratch that. There was no rain. It was a beautiful day without a cloud in the sky. The perfect weather was practically mocking me.
Damn my inner demons. Damn my flaws. Damn my insecurities. Damn them all.
Days like these weren’t supposed to be spent moping under the pouring rain of an imaginary raincloud. I contemplated just going back to my house and sitting alone with my dust bunnies; it was what I deserved.
But instead, I was heading over the Richie’s to ruin his mood. How great of a friend was I?
I was glad that no one could hear what was going on in my head, especially Richie. He would murder me for all this self-loathing. I didn’t deserve to know someone like Richie. I didn’t deserve him when I first met him and I definitely didn’t deserve him now. All he was going to do was listen to me rant and then make everything seem like it was okay. He was probably the sweetest boy on the planet and he was wasting his time with someone like me.
Well, it was too late for me to turn back now. My undeniable hatred for myself made the trip to Richie’s much shorter than I had expected it to be. Before I knew it, I was opening the door to his side of the house.
To my surprise, I didn’t find him sleeping on the couch. A pile of neatly folded blankets was sitting exactly where I had expected Richie to be. A second later, the door to the bathroom opened and he walked out; perfect timing as always.
Despite my mood, I couldn’t help but want to smile. Richie had just gotten out of the shower and was wearing only sweatpants. A towel was draped over his bare shoulders and his hair was flat against his head, still slightly damp.
He looked adorable.
It wasn’t as though I had any physical attraction for him or anything. I didn’t mean to look at him in that way, but it just sort of happened. He wasn’t the most muscular guy out there, but when a boy as attractive as Richie walked into a room without a shirt, any girl would notice. It was just another phenomenon of nature, I guess.
“You’re back awfully early,” Richie said, rubbing his hair with the towel and sending a shower of water droplets flying in all directions.
“It’s a long story.”
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow and placed the towel back on his shoulders. “I guess you didn’t check the news report then.”
“What news report?”
“Have a seat.”
Fearing the worst, I reluctantly sat the couch. Richie moved the pile of blankets to the ground and grabbed a sheet of paper on his counter before sitting beside me. It may have been my or malfunctioning brain but it felt like he was sitting unusually close to me today. Still dreading the news, however, I didn’t bother to mention it and waited patiently for Richie to begin.
“Well, I woke up maybe an hour and a half since you left my house, which meant that you would have been at rehearsal for only a short time because you walked there. Anyway, I decided to check out the latest news in entertainment on my computer, and came up with this. Just as I was about to take a shower, another article popped up, so I decided to check it out. After reading it, I printed it out because I assumed you would be coming here anyway. It looks like I was right.” He looked at me strangely before turning to the paper he was carrying. “It says here that you got into a fight with the band and quit. There’s even a witness statement from someone who says she knows you.”
“Who?”
“Some girl named Patrice Johnston.”
“Figures.”
“Yeah. Well anyway, this article rambles on about the fight you guys had and everything. This was released a bit more than an hour ago, so either it’s bull or news reporters are getting better ninja skills out there. Care to tell me what the real story is?”
I was surprised at how apathetic I felt to the whole thing. I had expected myself to be surprised or angry when Richie told me that a news report had already been released about me quitting, but I felt strangely numb to it all.
All the easier to tell Richie.
“The guys spied on us last night. They jumped to the wrong conclusions about us, got mad because they thought that the article released from the summer about us that was claimed to be false was actually true, and then called me a liar. Nat was hurt, everyone started yelling at me, and I started yelling back. I told them that maybe I didn’t want to be stuck in the band for the rest of my life and maybe I wanted to take some other path in the future. The guys were shouting, Nat was shouting, I was shouting, and, in the end, I just got fed up and left.”
The entire time I was talking, Richie had been glancing between the paper and me, all the while nodding along. After I finished, he glanced at his printout once more and put it down. “They’re not too far off, actually.” He then looked me straight in the eye, sitting only inches away. “Did you mean what you said about the band and the future?”
“No. Well, yes. Well, I don’t know,” I responded, still feeling strangely apathetic. “How am I supposed to know? How am I supposed to know where I want to be years from now? Maybe I want to go to college or maybe I want to stay a musician or maybe I want to do something else. I don’t have the slightest idea what I’m doing with myself.”
He sighed, staring down at the couch for a moment before looking back at me. “Tell me, Rosalina. Are you an idealist or a realist?”
“What sort of question is that?”
“Not much of one, I guess, since you don’t really have an answer.”
“What’s your point?”
“There are some people out there who are idealists. They are so sickenly optimistic and sugarcoated that just talking to them gives you cavities. Then, there are the realists. They are always down to earth but sometimes talking to them is depressing because they’ve given up their faith in dreams.”
“So what do you think I am?”
“Let me finish. I think there’s a third category. It’s one that I think you and I fit in. We are realists stuck in the dreams of our idealistic worlds. We are idealists weighed down by the bitter appeal of normalcy. The average person could only dream to have a life like ours, touring around with the rich and famous or even becoming the rich and famous. Then again, we’re normal kids, just like everyone else, trying to find a place in this world. We’re the lost realists, wandering through our teenage years looking for a purpose. You question your future because you are too afraid that they will not coincide with your dreams. Then again, you don’t even know what you’re dreams are, do you?”
I don’t know if what Richie was saying was making me feel better or worse. Nevertheless, it was making me think. “I thought I did, but I guess I was wrong.”
“But we’re all still so young. You’re right. There are so many paths that we can take, and we can probably be successful in just about all of them. We have so much time to chose, make mistakes, pick ourselves up, and start walking down another path. However, even though we don’t have to be sure what path we want to take, there is one thing that we have to be certain about.”
“What is that?”
“We have to be sure that the path we chose is actually chosen by us. Don’t let your life be run by your friends, family, teachers, paparazzi, or anyone. Never let anyone tell you can’t do something or that you only have one choice in life.”
Everything he had said was making a lot of sense to me. At first, I had only been smiling at Richie’s appearance, but now I was smiling because of he had said. His words refreshed me, and allowed me to justify myself for the time being.
“Now,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees and shifting even closer to me. “Tell me, Ms. Rosalina DiMeco. Are you the kind of girl that lets other people or prior commitments define who you will become for the rest of your life? Are you the kind of person who lets people walk all over her?”
Matching the smirk on his face, I beamed with pride. “Rosalina DiMeco belongs to no one.”
