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“Melodramatic, but points for style,” I call after him as he stalks away toward the nearest intersection. And just like that, he’s gone, leaving behind a pile of clothes like he was fucking raptured.
I pick up the vodka that he left behind and sit on the curb, picking at the nasty-ass leaves stuck in the gutter drain. With my other hand, I pull out my phone and dial Gray.
Ethan
Even the permanent smell of Irish Spring soap in my house feels comforting as I sneak in the front door well after midnight. I’d smell it for the rest of my life if it meant never seeing Victor again. Mom’s in bed, calming down from her panic attack, but Ana gives my sparse attire a weird look as I see her off.
I pull on some sweats and go for a piss. When I’m done, I catch myself just standing in front of the toilet, dick out, staring at my bathroom cupboard. My stomach aches and my head is pounding and my mouth tastes bad, even though I didn’t drink. Most of all, I feel like I did years ago, before Mom and I got our lives in order: hanging on the edge of sanity and wired, like I’m going to be awake for days.
Slowly, I open the cabinet and dig through the half-empty dandruff shampoos and expired cold medicine for a small, orange bottle. I set it on the counter and stare at my name on the label. The one time I got desperate enough to see a psychiatrist for anxiety, he wrote me a Xanax prescription, which was the exact reason I didn’t want to go in the first place. Like I needed an addiction on top of everything else. I threw it in the cupboard and never looked back.
Twenty-thousand dollars sounded like so much, but it’s going to disappear in a second and we will always, always need more. You have no skills and no way out. You’ll go on like this until Mom dies without even knowing your name, and then you’ll be too broken to start over. You should have just let go, in that lake with Danny. Followed him to the bottom.
Digging out an old straight razor, I shave a flake off one of the thick, white pills. I’m scared; I don’t like being drunk or high, even laughing gas at the dentist. I need to stay in control. But tonight, I need the fear to stop more. Wetting the tip of my finger, I put the flake on my tongue, rinsing it down with tap water.
Then I pad down the hall to Mom’s room. She’s lying in bed, curled in a ball, eyes open as she half-listens to the audiobook Ana put on. I can see dried tears on her cheeks.
As soon as I fill the doorway, she sits up and holds out her arms, tearing up again. Ana said that she panicked when she couldn’t find me. I switch off the audiobook and turn out the lights, lifting the covers and sliding in next to her. She nestles against my side and rests her head on my chest. “You smell strange,” she whispers. “Is it you?”
“It’s me.” I put my wrist to my nose in the dark, catching another whiff of Victor’s cologne. I can’t wait to wash it off and smell like sweat and dollar store hand soap again. “I’m here.”
“I can’t sleep.”
Cradling her head, I roll onto my side and wrap her in my arms. “Close your eyes, ok?” When she obeys, I rest my face against her hair. There’s an ache behind my eyes and in my chest, a tangled nest of fear and sadness, anger and self-loathing.
You did what you had to do. Now you never have to see those people again.
I wrap my cold hand around her warm one and squeeze, releasing all the tight muscles in my body. “We’re going to go on a trip around the world, as soon as I save up,” I whisper, reciting familiar words like a bedtime story that’s new to her every time.
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. Where do you want to go?”
Her breathing steadies against my chest. “Where’s that jungle temple on the mountain?”
“Machu Picchu? That’s in the Andes. You think we should get a llama to carry our stuff up there?”
There’s a smile in her sleepy voice. “I like llamas.”
“After Peru, I think we should go to Costa Rica. Get a tan. Your turn.”
“I want to see Baker Street.” We used to watch stuff likeSherlocktogether, and Mom was always the first to guess the culprit.
“London it is.”
She stirs. “Didn’t you say Danny’s in London?”
“Shhh.” I smooth her forehead. “Keep your eyes shut. Let’s take a train to France from London.”
We’re walking across the sands of Egypt, looking for the Sphynx, when she drifts off. Usually I sneak out, but tonight I just want to stay. I keep whispering, guiding her dreams from the desert to the snows of Russia, then the Great Wall of China.
“And if the steps are too steep, I’ll carry you.”
Listening to our heartbeats sync, I start to feel a slow, creeping kind of peace. I wish, as I disappear into the darkness, that I didn’t live in a world where the only way not to hurt was to shut everything out and live among your dreams.
