What hits me harder is the realization that, for the second time in my life, I am watching a boy on a beach. A boy on a beach who is drowning on dry land. This time, I cannot give a part of myself to him because he won’t accept it.
My fear and my heartbreak are so present that it’s difficult for me to think rationally, but I know that I cannot look away from Sabin, not even for a moment.
For an hour, I sit, unmoving, my sight glued on my best friend. His back is to me while he sits on the beach and faces the water. Later, he curls up in the sand, finally asleep after this evening of agony.
But I’m still going to stay.
After too much time, I break from my own deluge of hurt. My friend’s destruction so far outweighs mine, but it’s still a force of will to shake myself to function, and it takes great effort for me to hit the right buttons on my phone.
He picks up as soon as the phone rings. “Blythe.”
“Chris.” It’s difficult to speak. “Chris…”
“Tell me what’s wrong.” He knows immediately that there is trouble far greater than what I found in his wallet, and the urgency in his tone is unmistakable. “Is it you or Sabin?”
“Both,” the tremble as I speak is out of my control. “I need you.Heneeds you.”
“Are either of you hurt?”
I’m not sure how to answer this, so I just say, “I’m at the house. Sabin is on the beach.”
“Are you both safe?” This is a question only asked when it’s clear the situation is extremely serious. Chris quickly understands that we’re in a crisis. He wants to know about potential danger.
“Yes, yes. He’s asleep now. But we need you. We really need you. Sabin…” I start to cry so hard that it becomes difficult to breathe. “Oh God, he’s spiraling. He thinks he didn’t do enough when you were kids. That you didn’t let him help you the way he could have. He’s a wreck because you stopped him and didn’t allow him…you didn’t allow him to be an equal victim, an equal target. He is angry and feels guilty, and he’s totally losing it. He burned himself. Chris, heburnedhimself to be like you.” My breathing and crying are out of hand. I’m nearing a place that borders on out of control. “The painting. He told me about the painting. He saw more than you thought.”
“Fuck.Fuck!” Chris slaps his hand against something, and his impact tears through me. The sound of his reaction is too familiar. His sense of responsibility for his family is profound, almost too much so. “I already got a car, and I’m an hour into driving home. You not taking my calls was enough to tell me things were bad. But it’s a lot worse, isn’t it? It’ll take me another four hours or so, but I’ll get to you as fast as I can.”
“There’s…more…I have more to tell you.” I don’t know how I’m talking because my head is spinning so out of control. “Sabin and I…we’re all screwed up. I am so alone right now, and I don’t want to be. I am going back to that dark place I fought to get out of. Don’t let me go there. Please don’t let me go there again.”
Sabin’s disintegration is becoming my own. I’m together enough to identify it but not together enough to stop it myself.
“You’ll tell me everything when I’m there. Right now, you’re going to breathe for me. Just breathe for me. Let me hear you.”
He’s right. I’m hyperventilating. Heightened states take over my body and my breathing. I feel as though history keeps repeating itself because Chris has had to convince me to breathe normally before. This thought makes my panic escalate.
Maybe Sabin is right, and we’ll just keep cycling through pain forever. There is no escape.
I let out another sob.
“Blythe!” Chris is aggressive enough in his tone to make me listen. “Breathe in for four, exhale for eight. Do it now.”
So, I inhale slowly and listen to him count to four. Then, he counts to eight as I exhale. We do this for the next few minutes until I’ve come back down.
“A little better?” he asks.
“Yes.” My head and body are together enough for me to tell him, “I’m sorry I wouldn’t talk to you before. I’m so sorry. It was stupid. Especially now.”
“It doesn’t matter. I love you, and I’m coming home.”
“Okay. I love you. God, I love you so much.” I’m crying harder. “Please come home. Please come home.”
“Baby, I’ll be there soon.”
I hang up with the knowledge that help is headed toward us. Chris knows how to stay calm right now because he’s been through much worse storms than this. Despiteandbecause of everything he has survived, he has become someone with a shockingly strong foundation, and it’s one that I’m depending on right now. It seems appalling that I should lean on him when this situation is so strongly tied to him, but the truth is that Chris has a skill set and fortitude that can withstand my breakdown. And Sabin’s.
It’s part of why I’m so in love with Chris. He is competent and capable in ways that are striking and beautiful. He has insight and compassion that, even with his measured control, shine through and heal.
Even in my chaos, I finally become aware of how dependent I am on him. Not in a crazy, pathological way, but I see how much he brings to what I don’t have, and my reliance on him is sharply in my consciousness tonight.
