Page 22 of Best Friend Burden

“Early bedtime and waking up for work,” Melody said. “What happened to us?”

“It's called growing up,” I said.

“Come on, what would 18 year old Kiefer think of you?”

He'd think I was a loser. And he'd be right, but for the wrong reasons.

“I try not to do things based on what other people think.”

“He's not other people,” Melody told me. “He's you. No matter how much you try to run from him, he's still there inside of you.”

That's what she thought. Whatever was left of him I killed with pills and alcohol. Every once in a while, I listened to some old recordings I'd made of myself and was always amazed by the creative inventiveness I once had. In terms of technical skill, I was about as good as I ever was, at least in some respects, but in terms of fearlessness and heart, I was no match for the Kiefer of my youth. And that Kiefer was long gone.

“Hey,” she said, “this may be a bad time to ask, but can I borrow your car tomorrow?”

She was already staying in my apartment, and now she was asking me for my car?

“It's just I have an important meeting and I'm bringing food, so I need to make sure there's plenty of trunk space for everything.”

I was hearing the words, but felt distracted.

“I'll pay for your Uber for you to get to work,” she said, “and I promise not to make this a habit. I was going to rent a car, but—”

“It's fine,” I said. “Take the car.”

“Thanks,” she said.

But that left an awkward silence. I could tell it was doubly awkward for her, judging by the way she was tapping her hand against her knee. She was clearly trying to make light conversation by asking me for the car. It was nice to see her trying to break through my walls, even though I was being a dick. Eventually, the silence must have gotten to be too much, and she broke it.

“Tell you what,” Melody said, “let's play Truth or Dare.”

I rolled my eyes.

“For old time's sake.”

I didn't respond to her.

“Truth or dare, Kiefer.”

I continued to stay silent, hoping she'd drop it, but she just repeated it louder.

“Truth or Dare.”

I could feel her eyes on me, staring at me, as if to say she could wait as long as I could. But I knew that was a lie. Like all awkward people, Melody had absolutely zero tolerance for discomfort.

“You know what I think?” she said. “I think you're scared. I think you're scared of what I might dare you to do.”

She paused.

“Oh, no, that's not what you're afraid of. You're more afraid of what happens if you pick Truth. A guy like you who gets off on being mysterious and dark? That's why you always picked Dare when we were kids.”

“Fine,” I said. “Truth.”

“Why are you so uptight now?”

“I'm not.”

She laughed. “The game is called 'Truth or Dare,' not 'Obvious Lie or Dare.'”

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