This was strange to me; it was unlike him to stay in his bedroom all day. The only time Brandon did leave the room was during bathroom breaks and food-runs. Other than that he was completely secluded but there was no reason that I could think of, of why he would stay in his bedroom all day, not speaking to anyone or even, at least inviting somebody in.

It took me sometime to gain the confidence to place my hand on the door knob. It wasn’t fear that kept me from going in; it was solely because I was afraid that, if there was truly something the matter with Brandon, I could not help him. Though my heart was in my throat by the time my hand grasped the knob I still turned it. Breathe. Breathe.

Brandon was outside on the small balcony on the other side of his room. If it were possible Brandon had gotten tanner sitting outside on the lounge chair shirtless with his favorite red flamed guitar on his lap. His muscles seemed to have strangled the guitar as it sat underneath his arm. He played softly often glancing up to see the sun singing along with him. It had been shining as a spotlight for him throughout the day and now the sun had to sing its last song before the moon took its place for the night.

The light breeze carried his tune into the backyard, glistened into the ears of the birds who were whistling along the tall trees that waved side to side. The green grass below grew a solemn green darkened by the lack of sunlight but it danced with the melody of Brandon’s guitar nevertheless. Brandon shut his bright blue eyes and as his long dark eyelashes rose again he seemed to have been dazed to see me standing in front of him, taking away his last moments with his golden musician partner.

“Have you been playing your guitar all day?” I asked.

“Just about,” he answered. “Brianna, I think you were worried about me.”

“Me, worry about you,” I made a half smile, shook my head and said, “Never. That’s your job, remember?”

Brandon sat his guitar down softly on the concrete balcony. He stared at it as though putting it down was almost too painful to bear. I sighed and he looked back up at me again. His eyes were tired but content; they glistened with the last little bit of sunlight left. Before we knew the crickets replaced the birds and the quarter moon took over Mother Nature’s kingdom. We sat in the dark before Brandon spoke.

“So what’s up?”

“What’s up with you? You stayed all day in your room, on the balcony with your guitar and never invited me to play with you. What’s up with that?” I questioned.

Brandon smiled. “I’ve been thinking a little.” I urged him to go on. “Life sure has its ways of surprising people. At one point you think you have it all figured out and then the next thing you know, BAM!” He clapped his hands loudly as he said the word. “You get bitten right in the ass.”

I looked at the darkened yard for a moment, taking in what Brandon just explained to me. I thought for a moment of what had happened that made him think so diligently of it all. And for a moment I could not think of anything but I had to say something…

“It’s true but the crazy thing about it is you can either decide to let the venom spread or help and let it heal.” I told him. “For me, I know I would definitely let that bite heal; there is so much life to live and I want to live it whole. I want to be proud of the life I live.”

“Sometimes, though, I feel like I’m walking blindly, like there is a thick cloud in my face. Next thing I know I’m hit, with no warning at all.”

Brandon got up and walked towards the center of his bedroom. I followed shutting the balcony door. I looked around Brandon’s now messy room. There were plates and silverware on his desk and food wrappers on his floor as well as unopened snacks lying on his bed.

“I rather walk through that cloud than walk with a map directing me exactly where to go.” I told him. “If I had that map would life really be all that worth it? I don’t think so. I would have all the answers open up to me and then life wouldn’t be an adventure anymore.”

“Live a life that’s worth taking,” Brandon mumbled.

“Exactly,” I replied.