Page 4 of Loverboy

I drifted into the kitchenette, peering into the sink with morbid curiosity. It was still coated in chunks of red-tinged bile. For a moment, I imagined what it would be like if I’d actually managed to kill myself and someone else discovered the mess. Would they be horrified? Filled with grief? Or would it just be an inconvenience, another mess I’d left behind for someone else to take care of?

I gagged, covering my mouth and turning away. The burn in my throat made my eyes water, forcing me to blink rapidly. The phantom concoction of acetaminophen and bile lingered on my tongue, a bitter reminder of my failure.

Jasper hovered over me, looking past my shoulder and sighing at the mess. If I hadn’t survived and he’d found me, would his stomach have turned the way mine did now? Would he have cried, knowing he couldn’t save me? I couldn’t seem to stop fantasizing about all the different ways it could have gone.

He reached around to turn on the tap, his chest brushing against mine. My breath stuttered at the contact, threatening to burst the dam holding my emotions back. I inhaled the thick scent of menthol and vanilla clinging to his sweater, grounding myself in the familiarity of a cologne that never changed.

He never changed.

“God, you didn’t even have the decency to clean up before they took you away?” he teased. I chewed the inside of my cheek to keep from breaking.

That dark humour was my lifeline. The only thing that kept me from drowning. I knew with absolute certainty that I didn’t deserve someone like him. Someone who could watch me crash again and again, never tiring of pulling me back to my feet. Even now, I was waiting for the moment he’d finally give up on me. The only person whose darkness reflected my own.

I elbowed him gently in the ribs and then squeezed past him toward the fridge. Even though I knew it would be empty, I opened it up and stared at what was probably half a carton of expired milk. I hadn’t had the energy to feed myself all week, and the act of starvation felt like an alternative, slower route to my well-deserved death.

“I need a smoke.” I groaned, closing the fridge and digging through my sweater. My fingers found the mangled pack of cigarettes and lighter, and as I brought them to my lips, I inhaled deeply through the cardboard, chasing the scent of tobacco. My head buzzed, nicotine addiction begging to be sated.

“You sure that’s a good idea with how messed up your stomach is?” Jasper shot me a patronizing glance as he rinsed the sink and turned the tap off.

“I wasn’t allowed outside at the hospital,” I complained, heading for the balcony. “Let me have this. If I puke, I puke. Someone’ll be getting a show.”

The sliding door unlocked with a click. I pushed it open, stepping onto the balcony and crushing dried autumn leaves beneath my feet. Canadian winter was on its way, the chill stiffening my joints as I lit up.

Smoky wisps curled around my face with the first drag, and every exhale carried a little tension away. I teetered forward, glancing over the railing—only the third floor, I noted with detachment.

I couldn’t help flirting with death. It felt against my will, imagining every way I could kill myself when I entered a room. I’d drive my car and fantasize about veering into traffic, my body on autopilot, still heading to the next destination. It was just a thought.

Until sometimes, it wasn’t.

I felt Jasper’s presence well before I saw him. When I glanced back, it was only the second time I’d found the nerve to meet his eyes since he’d picked me up. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how. Neither did I. No words were going to fix what was wrong with me.

“Clearly, I can’t leave you alone.” He gestured vaguely between us.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m a perfectly functional adult and have never been a danger to myself,” I said, spreading my arms. The dizziness surged, and nausea followed. I took another drag anyway.

“Uh-huh. Seriously, what’s the plan? Someone should be here with you.” He draped an arm over my shoulders and pulled me close.

It was criminal that he was the taller one, for someone two years younger. I wanted to push him away, but the ache in my chest won out. I reached up and gripped the arm hanging off my shoulder, squeezing it instead. It was a tiny, silent surrender.

“You won’t get rid of me until I know you’re gonna be okay,” he stated firmly.

“I already messaged Oliver. He’s gonna come spend a few days with me, so I’m not alone.” The last word fell from my lips bitterly.

“That’s good,” he said slowly, tightening his hold. “Anything you need. Please. Call me.”

“Okay,” I whispered. The thought of him leaving made my insides twist up in knots. He was the closest thing I had to home, but asking him to stay felt like too much. Mom needed him more than I did.

With a final puff, I peeled away from him. I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray and fled inside, desperate to escape the tension. We hadn’t talked about the why yet. He didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell. He knew about the breakup and how I coped—or rather, how I didn’t cope with loss.

When we were younger, there were more nights than I cared to remember that Jasper was forced to listen to all of my lovers’ spats through the floorboards that separated our rooms. He never brought it up or forced me to talk about it, and I was sure he’d been too afraid to intervene.

I didn’t blame him.

We were only kids.

My feet dragged along the carpet toward the bedroom, the door slightly ajar. I reached out to hold the walls on either side of me, starting to tremble, my limbs growing weaker and weaker the closer I got. I wasn’t sure I could face the emptiness that waited for me inside.

The door creaked ominously as I nudged it open fully, and I was at last forced to face the evidence of my world collapsing. I tried to tell myself not to look, but I’d already stolen a glance, catching sight of the dirty clothes strewn across the floor, the unmade bed, and band posters clinging to the walls with little more than hopes and dreams. I’d overreacted and started destroying things, and I just hadn’t gotten around to undoing the damage before deciding to send myself over the edge.