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As soon as I hear the door close, I groan into my hands.
It feels like the only appropriate response in this moment in time. What else am I going to do? Drink? Throw things through the windows? Toss myself into the ocean?
I’ve lost people before, but I can’t believe how unescapable this pain is. I can’t run from it in any meaningful way. I’m nearly crawling out of my skin from the unrelenting anguish writhing in my stomach.
I’m hit even harder when I realize how selfish I was to get angry at my brother for not returning my call.
I can’t believe I was holding such a petty grudge against him all this time, even after he was dead. I knew better than to blame him or be angry with him, but I selfishly chose to take it personally.
The only thing I can be grateful for right now is the fact that he didn’t know I was angry at him.
The last time I saw my brother, I visited him at his house on a Thursday night when one of his favorite musicians released a new album. We drank whiskey together and listened to the whole record. It was the most serene, tranquil experience I’d had in years, and now it’s the last memory I’ll ever have of Misha.
I feel like I’m searching for a corner of the house that I can escape to that will transport me back in time. Knowing that I’m locked in to living the rest of my life without my brother feels like a punishment for all my wrongdoing.
Yan comes back into the house after a few minutes, glancing over at me to assess my mood. I’m still visibly shaken from the news, and I see another flash of helplessness cross his gaze. He wants to help however he can, just like he always has, but he’s powerless to change the course of my suffering.
“Do you need me to stick around? Maybe just for an hour or so?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”
He gives me a thin smile, doing the best he can to power through the uncomfortable heaviness in the air.
“Please, don’t hesitate to give me a call if you need anything. You know I mean it.”
“Yeah, for sure. I’ll be sure to reach out at some point. I really don’t know what I’m going to do,” I reply, disheartened and exhausted.
As he leaves, a twinge of anxiety at the thought of being here by myself. I could never ask him to stay behind and coddle me, no matter how willing or understanding he is.
The only other person I can think to call is Vera, but I don’t have her number and I’m positive that she never wants to see me again.
It looks like I’m on my own.
15
Vera
Preparing for a date feels so inappropriate after everything I’ve been through in the past twenty-four hours. In a way, I feel guilty for even considering going out for dinner after witnessing a shooting. The way that I survived the shooting doesn’t inspire confidence, either.
Eric picks me up at my dorm at around six PM, and I’m more apprehensive about this date than I thought I’d be by now.
I really tried to convince myself that I was just nervous about being asked out. I wanted to believe that the feelings would rush back to me when I got the chance to scroll through my favorite photos on his social media. The whole situation used to be an unattainable dream for me, and now that it’s here, I feel nothing for him.
“Hey, is it cool if we run to the gas station real quick?” he says as soon as I climb into his car.
Nothello,notyou look beautiful.
“Uh, sure. Are we just stopping for drinks?” I ask, feeling annoyed that he hadn’t thought to stop before he came to get me.
I really should have anticipated this given how much of a lazy procrastinator he is.
“Nah, I need to pick up some blunt wrappers. What flavor do you like the most? I’ll be sure to grab them,” he replies, speeding out of my sleepy neighborhood and revving the engine.
“Oh, I actually don’t smoke weed,” I say, clenching my fist in my coat pocket. Eric is notorious for peer pressure, and I’ve always struggled to say no when someone presses me.
Eric laughs, glancing over to me with an impish sparkle in his eyes. “Come on, I’ve seen you smoke before. Don’t pretend. You’re not in the Bible belt anymore. Besides, even if we get caught with it, my dad knows the chief of police. We’d get off with a slap on the wrist.”
I adjust my skirt awkwardly as I try to diffuse some of my nerves. I’m hating how this feels so far. I’d rather be at home eating cereal and watching TV.
