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“Paige! What are you doing?”
With my cheeks full of pills, I stare at her. For a second, she covers her mouth and stares back. Time slows, and it’s just the two of us in a standoff, waiting for the other to make a move. Her chest rises and falls, rises and falls, eyes unblinking. The next beat, she lunges forward, clawing at me, trying to force me to spit out the rainbow of pills.
I fake swallow.
She screams my name, which is painful in the tiny space, and then fumbles for her phone. Before she can dial for help, I grab her phone and open the passenger door. I spit the pills into the dirt, using the whiskey to rinse my mouth. Then I spit that into the dirt. My tongue is heavy with a sickening, burning, smoked barrel and bitter pill taste. I want to puke. Instead, I lick my forearm, hoping that will clean my tongue and relieve the taste.
Amber is too shocked to move. She stares at me with eyes like an owl, mouth agape as silent tears fall down her cheeks. She yanks me into a hug. I hug her back. We both cry.
I’m crying because my mouth is filled with an awful taste that makes my stomach churn, and my ears hurt from her yelling, and I’ve got spit on my arm that makes my arm hairs stiff and gross, and now it’s drying and I can feel all the hairs sticking to my skin like tiny bugs. And everything is a swirling mess inside my head. Amber was out here alone with pills she said she didn’t have, in the dark, doing what? Not telling me she’s hurting and trying to slip away when she’s my friend, my best friend, and who else will stand up for me like she does? Or treat me like a person? And be my friend, my best friend, who I can talk to about anything, even if she doesn’t trust me enough to tell me why she’s hurting so much?
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I was thinking I could take the pills and drive off a cliff. Get it over with. But then I thought about you, and I can’t leave you. I promised I would help, and I don’t want to break my promise. I don’t want you to be trapped with your mom and stepdad. Then I felt worse because what horrible person even thinks about driving off a cliff when they promised to be there for their friend who is in a much worse situation? So I wanted to drive off the cliff more. I want to, but I can’t bring myself to do it, but I should because I’m—”
I stroke her hair and hum and that quiets her.
“I’m a bad person,” she says once her voice is stable.
I pull back to use my phone.
Air huffs from her mouth in a slight laugh as she wipes her eyes.
My words bring her tears back. Her shoulders shake. “You don’t…want me…as a friend. I’m the…worst…person.”
I want to comfort her. I want to listen and talk, but I’m too affected by what’s happened and I need room to release energy. The bitter taste and my spit skin, and knowing that if I hadn’t gone outside Amber might not be here, is making a squirmy pressure build under my skin.
She nods and we exit the car. Before I follow her inside, I find a rock and smash the pills on the ground to dust. Just in case.
When we’re inside, I switch on a lamp and pace around the kitchen. In my frantic state, I bump a kitchen chair and it squeaks loudly across the tile. The sound makes me more agitated. Not at Amber. Sensations. The world. Emotions. But I fight it so I can be here for Amber.
She sits on the couch, hugging herself. “I ruin lives. What if I ruin yours, too? I wasn’t here when you needed me and you got hurt.” She gestures weakly at the hallway. “I ruined Brody’s life. Like he wants to be taking care of his little sister? He’s bailed me out so many times when he shouldn’t have. I was supposed to go to college and move out of state and have my own successful life. But I’m a failure, and I dragged him down with me.”
“He shouldn’t. Not after what I’ve done.”
My own words make me stop pacing. Did I abandon my mom?
“Yeah, well, Brody—”
“I left last year. I know,” he says. He’s standing at the end of the hallway, squinting in the light and suppressing a yawn. His hair is messy from sleep.
“That’s not what I was going to say,” Amber responds quietly. “You should start your own family and forget about me.”
Brody glances at me when she says ‘family’, then his gaze returns to Amber as he moves to stand between me in the kitchen and her on the couch. He grabs a chair and sits, arms crossed. “Let’s start from the beginning. Tell me what’s been going on while I was asleep.”
Now that he’s here and I know Amber is safe, I hurry to the hallway, telling them, Then I’m in my room with the door closed. I fall on the bed, covering my head with sheets to block out the world, and let myself cry. No sound. No sight. I grab a stick of gum from the nightstand and chew. No more disgusting taste. I wipe my arm. I’m clean. I’m cocooned. The emotions and pressure bubble and fade until I’m at ease and collected enough to support Amber.
I’m gone longer than ten minutes. When I return, Brody is sitting next to her on the couch and they’re speaking in hushed tones. “You need to tell her,” he says before they both notice me and fall silent.
He studies my face. “Are you okay?”
I nod.
