Page 6 of Hate It with You

I’m typing out a reply when a loud thud interrupts me. The sound comes from the living room. When I hear it again, I recognize it as someone knocking on my front door. Given the sun isn’t up yet, I jump at the sound. Checking the time again, I see that it’s now 4:45 a.m., and my heart pounds as adrenaline floods my veins.

Who the hell…

My eyes dart to the note on my nightstand, and my stomach drops. It couldn’t possibly be him. Could it?

No, he’s in jail. Remember?

I hop out of bed, throwing on my pajama shorts and a hoodie from one of my favorite bands with an upside-down house on it. Slipping my feet into my slides, I push past a few boxes to grab the steel metal bat I’ve set up next to my nightstand.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Another knock on the door, this time louder. I curse myself when my right hand shakes as I grip the bat harder.

Walking out of the bedroom, I enter the living room. Empty bookshelves line the wall to my left between the door to my bedroom and the door to the bathroom. The only item across from it is my reading chair, as I haven’t been bothered to order a new couch yet. Sienna got our old one in our roommate divorce.

Walking toward the dining room, I round a square pillar that inconveniently lives in the middle of my apartment. As I’m making my way to the front door, I stub my toe on the pillar, still not quite used to navigating the layout in the dark.

“Fuck,” I say louder than intended, unintentionally alerting the stranger at the door to my presence.

I hold my toe as I hop over to the small kitchen island that sits across from the living room and attempt to gather my composure before checking who is at the door. I’m still holding on to a sliver of hope that he didn’t hear me.

“Ellie?” the voice says through the door. It sounds familiar, but I can’t place it through the deep breaths I’m taking in an effort to dissolve the pain of my injury.

“Ellie, open up,” the authoritative voice booms. Shock overcomes me at the use of my childhood nickname. Only one person ever calls me that, and I should’ve recognized him sooner. Though the military has a way of changing people.

Dropping the bat on a pile of boxes that sit unpacked next to my reading chair, I all but sprint toward the front door that splits the difference between the living room and kitchen.

Placing my hand on the doorknob, I’m surprised the old, creaky door doesn’t fly off its hinges with the sheer amount of force with which I pull it open.

“Benny,” I squeal into the hallway at my unexpected visitor.

“Hey, Ellie,” Benny beams, presenting that familiar warm smile to me that reminds me of all the rare, good times of my childhood. My younger brother stands before me, backpack strap slung over one shoulder, his military overnight bag hanging from his hand.

His short brown hair looks mussed as he slept on the plane he presumably took to get here from California. Despite being younger than me, he stands a full foot taller, surpassing six feet, causing me to strain my neck as I look at him. It makes it difficult when I throw my arms around his shoulders and bring him into a bear hug, though I do it anyway.

“Okay, I need air to live.” His voice comes out pinched, and I let go of him apologetically.

Once inside, Ben drops his bags at the front door. After ensuring it’s locked, he takes up a seat at the small kitchen island on one of the rickety barstools I’ve placed there. I work to fill the tea kettle with water and place it on the stove before turning to him.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but how are you here? I thought you couldn't get your leave approved,” I say. I’m pleasantly surprised by his arrival, but I’m worried he can’t afford the trip. Both financially and professionally.

My brother Bennet, known to most by Ben, and to me as Benny, is only three years younger than me. He joined the Marine Corps right after high school and has been stationed in California. I’ve barely seen him since, and most of his leave requests have been denied, so I’m confused as to why this one was approved.

“It got approved last minute. Took the first flight I could out of there to come see you. Figured I’d help out with the grand opening,” He shrugs as he slides a box of day-old donuts his way, taking a maple bar out and biting into it.

“You didn’t have to come visit me. I told you I have this under control. I don’t like you spending money unnecessarily for something like this.” I grab my phone out of my hoodie pocket. “How much was the plane ticket? I’ll pay you back for it.” Ben puts his hand over my phone before he answers.

“Don’t worry about it. The flight was cheap since it was overnight anyway,” he says before taking another bite of his donut.

“Well, that explains why you’re here so early. You almost gave me a heart attack.” He winces at my reply.

“Sorry about that,” he says, his mouth still full of maple donut.

When the tea kettle whistle sounds through the air, I grab two novelty mugs out of an open box sitting next to the kitchen island. Rinsing them out in the sink, I set them on the counter along with two tea packets for Ben and me. Once I’ve dropped the bags in both mugs, I hand him his piping-hot mug before blowing on mine and taking a small sip. The tea works instantly to calm my senses after the restless night I’ve had.

“Well, I appreciate you being here. It’s nice to see you,” I say, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

He scoffs as he looks around the room. “From the looks of it, you could use the help.”