Whiskey Tears, page 14
Guess it depends on the outcome.
Trekking down to the laundry room in the basement of our building, an eerie sense fills me, one of dread and foreshadowing, somehow knowing Macy’s not going to make it. It makes me pause before getting out of the elevator, catching my breath, even though it’s not been confirmed.
I load up the comforter into the washing machine and set it to start. There’s a lot of trust in our building when it comes to laundry, so I don’t bother to wait while it washes. Besides, if someone really wants to steal my extra-long twin comforter I bought solely for college, have at it. Not like I’m attached to it.
On the way back upstairs, I stop off in the lounge. It’s empty aside from two guys in the corner of the room. I plop down into a chair, exhaling deeply, needing a breather away from what awaits me in my room. Even if she does make it, I have a feeling I’ll never look at my room the same. My mind drifts to Macy, the first time we met, taking an almost immediate dislike to her. Sure, things have been better the past few weeks, but I still wouldn’t consider us friends. I didn’t even tell her much about Ethan, but in hindsight, I’m really glad I didn’t.
Ethan.
Now that I’ve had time to process everything, anger fills me. I wonder how long he’s known I was Macy’s roommate, how long he’s been hiding it.
If you knew certain things about me, you might not still be around. His words echo in my mind. A warning.
He knew!
I had no reason to suspect anything about him having a relationship with Macy. Heck, I barely knew he had parents, let alone a sibling. And as for Macy, even when I found out about her brother, it’s not like I ever would have made the connection. They don’t have the same last name, and they look nothing alike.
I want to berate myself for being so stupid, but I can’t find fault with myself. All I did was begin to fall in love with the guy who showed me only the sides of him he wanted me to see, but boy, are those sides great. I couldn’t get enough of him, despite the red flags and warning signs my brain tried to send me.
But really, does it matter? That’s my heart. So what if he left out about being siblings with your roommate? It doesn’t change who he is.
My brain argues, but if he’s capable of lying about that, what else might he be hiding?
At war with myself, I dart outside, needing a breath of fresh air. It’s cold and of course my jacket’s in my room, but I need the break.
Taking a seat on the bench, I take in large gulps of the cold air, filling my entire body. Instead of warming up from the inside out, I’m icing up, heading to the point where it gets so cold, I can hardly breathe, my lungs seizing with the chill.
The ringing of my phone ceases my focus on how cold it is for a moment.
Pulling out the phone from the pocket of my hoodie—Ethan’s hoodie I commandeered on our trip to Providence—Ethan’s name flashes across the screen. I answer with, “How long?” I’ve lost all my tact, it seems.
“Huh? What?”
“How long did you know I was your sister’s roommate?” A part of me feels bad for the accusatory tone of my voice, for putting him on the spot at a time like this to answer my damn question in the first place.
His heavy sigh fills my ears. “Can we talk about this later? Please?”
His voice is pained. A tear drips down my cheek, my eyes slamming closed. I push aside my anger, my selfishness at needing to know about something so insignificant to him when he’s dealing with his sister’s suicide attempt.
“I’m sorry,” I say sincerely, hoping my voice conveys how truly apologetic I am. “How’s Macy?”
“Gone.”
One word, the finality of it causing my stomach to revolt. This time, I make it to the bushes before unloading it all.
When I’m finished, I can’t bother to get back to the bench, and I settle on the ground. All I can hear over the line is Ethan’s breathing. “I’m sorry.” And it’s for so much more than “I’m sorry your sister is dead.” But I can’t say anything else. What is there to say? “Are you okay?” I hear my voice asking.
Oh, right. That.
He’s silent for a while, so long I check to make sure the line hasn’t been disconnected.
“Is it selfish of me to say I need you?”
His voice has my heart squeezing in my chest, more tears leaking down my cheeks, both at what he says and how he says it.
“No,” I whisper, closing my eyes tightly and shaking my head. “No, not at all. What can I do?”
“Look up.”
Tearing my eyes open, I find him there. It’s him, but it’s not. He’s broken, beat down, distraught. I push to standing, stepping closer to him. My fingers reach out to touch his cheeks, tracks of tears evident. I shove my phone back in my pocket, not needing it since he’s here.
“Oh, Ethan.”
He surprises the hell out of me when he grips my cheeks in his fingers. He looks directly at me as he speaks. “Please don’t be mad at me. I need you tonight. Your touch, your comfort, whatever you’ll give me. She’s gone. My baby sister’s never returning.”
I shake my head, too afraid to speak, to say the wrong thing, to turn him away. As much as I know I’ll do as he asks—I’ll give him whatever he needs—I don’t trust my voice not to betray me, to be selfish and make it about me.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur when I’m forced to say something after a long pause. “Let’s go upstairs.”
He nods once, a strangled “Thank you,” in return, the most he can speak.
Forgetting about my laundry in the basement, Ethan and I make our way back up to my bedroom, our hands never letting go. His hands seem rougher today, the calluses more pronounced, matching his deep and fractured feelings.
Once in my room, his eyes cast toward Macy’s side, a strangled sigh and gasp tumbling out of his mouth. I’m at a loss for how to help him, how to help him process the thoughts swirling through his mind. Hopefully just being here for him will be enough. I think that’s what I would want—someone who I trusted to just be there, to sympathize with me, not to be able to make it better, per se, but to help me through it.
On that note, I query, “What can I do?” This time, “look up” won’t likely be enough.
Without turning around, he laments, “Honestly, I don’t know. Just, um, be here. Help me process it all, the fact she’s never coming back. She was a pain in my ass, but she was my pain in the ass, you know?”
I want to say, “Yeah, I get it,” but I hold my tongue. I don’t understand, not completely. I’ve never lost someone so close to me nor do I have a younger sister. Instead, I step behind him, wrap my arms around his waist, press my face into his back. I feel the minute he relaxes to my touch, the minute the tension starts to depart his body. His hand grabs hold of my wrist, and he squeezes gently. His head dips down, and a surge of welled up emotions comes crashing out, his body heaving with the sobs pouring out of him. I do the best I can to clutch onto him—hold him up—while he mourns Macy.
I feel the back of his shirt wetting with the tears I didn’t realize I was crying. Whether it’s to grieve Macy or support Ethan, I’m not sure.
I can’t tell you how long we stay huddled in the middle of the room, my limbs starting to go weak. Eventually, I get us to my bed. I remember the comforter in the washing machine in the basement. It takes me all of two seconds to ignore the thought, leaving the task of moving it to the dryer until later. Heck, I’ll buy a new comforter if necessary.
When I thought about inviting Ethan to stay in my room while Macy was gone, the size of my bed was a concern. However, Ethan’s curled up next to the wall, and I can’t help but scooch up next to him, plastering my body against his. If he pushes me away, I’ll deal with it, but right now, it feels right to be this near. For both of our sakes. His arm draws me closer; I go willingly, fitting myself beside him, practically on top of him.
“We’ll talk tomorrow about everything, k?” His sleepy voice is barely audible, but I manage to decode it all.
“Okay. Night, Ethan.”
The uneven sounds of his breath are the only response I get.
It takes me a while to fall asleep. Even being in such close proximity to Ethan, my body doesn’t relax like it normally does being next to him, and my mind won’t shut off. My thoughts vary from wondering where we go from here to relishing sleeping next to Ethan to hating myself for being so selfish at getting this uninterrupted time with him.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, exhaustion settles in, and I finally doze off to sleep, only to be awoken in what feels like a few minutes when Ethan climbs over me and races out the door. His actions should startle me, but my eyes close, my body succumbing back to sleep. Until he’s back.
I feel the bed move as he sits down, but my eyes stay shut.
“So, um, do you get along with your RA or is she a real stickler for the rules?”
“She’s a bitch.”
Groaning, he lies down behind me, pulling me into his body. There’s a certain comfort I get in his arms, a different feeling than when I was the big spoon all night long.
“She’ll come knocking on your door at some point today. But can you blame me for using the bathroom on this floor rather than going up or down to the guys’ floor? Did she want me to leave a trail of piss?”
A chuckle bursts out unashamedly. “You aren’t the first guy to use our bathroom. And if she says that, she’s lying. My friend caught her and her boyfriend doing it in the shower a few weeks ago. I wouldn’t stress over it.”
He’s quiet for a few minutes, not offering any kind of reply at my attempt to assuage his worry.
When he finally speaks, his comment surprises me. “That’s fucked up. The guys’ shower? Sure, all the time. But the women’s? Dude, have some respect.”
Turning over, I’m met with a mixed expression on his handsome features, a combination of sadness, confusion, anger, with a side of humor thrown in for good measure.
Running my finger along his jaw, his day-old stubble already making an appearance, I ask, “How are you?” Because the joviality has to be an act, a cover-up to how he’s truly feeling this morning. If he’s had a chance to process it all. Sure, he seemed like he did last night, an understanding settling in about Macy’s death, but now that he’s had a chance to sleep on it, I need to know where his head’s at.
“Honestly?” I nod for him to continue, to unleash whatever he needs on me. “I feel like I don’t deserve your kindness. As much as I needed you last night—still need you right now—I’m pressing my luck by being here.” There’s so much sincerity in his words, a level of raw honesty I hardly ever get from Ethan. And it’s refreshing. Despite what we still need to discuss, if there’s one thing I know for certain is I’m here for him.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Too bad he couldn’t take me at my word.
Fifteen
Ethan
A heaviness hangs in the air around Adley and me, the tension of everything trying to engulf me in its clutches. I’m still a bit numb after finding Macy, knowing she didn’t make it. It will probably take a while to truly sink in she’s really gone and never coming back.
I knew I should have checked in on her more, but between work and spending time with Adley lately, I didn’t get to see her as much as I would have liked, as much as I should have. And it wasn’t like I could ask Adley how she was doing. Not only because she didn’t know our connection, but also because Macy clearly hid her addiction well from her.
Her last message yesterday—the one of goodbye—wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, which is why I didn’t react immediately. She was booked on a flight home later today, but it didn’t quite register why she’d be telling me goodbye yesterday.
Like the last two times, I missed the signs. Because I was too caught up in my own stuff to keep watch on her. She must have been skipping out on treatment, the whole reason she was here in Rhode Island to begin with. Well, that and so she’d be closer to someone in our family, which is why I stayed in Rhode Island after graduation. That was Mom and Dad’s “brilliant” plan. Clearly it backfired, like all the other times.
The guilt of “should have done more” eats away at me.
Instead of her going home to California, they’re coming here. I barely got the message out when my mom started barking orders at Dad to make arrangements to get to Rhode Island. For all I know, they’re at the hospital already. All time’s been lost since the doctor mentioned she was truly gone.
It’s a bit surreal to be in Adley’s room with Adley rather than Macy. To be in her bed. To be welcomed into her space instead of checking it out on the sly when I stopped by on the rare occasion to visit my sister. She brings a sense of peace to my otherwise complicated world, a sense of calm I need to get me through the next chapter in my life, to help me navigate a world without my sister. As long as she’s not too mad at me.
I owe her a conversation, a chance to answer any and all questions she may have. She deserved it, way before she found me frantically trying to get into her dorm. And not to see her. But I couldn’t risk losing her. And now, as much as she says she’s not going anywhere, I may lose her anyway. Along with my sister. I honestly don’t know which one will affect me more.
“Are you hungry?” Adley asks, pulling me out of my head and back into the room with her. She’s snuggled into me, hardly any space between our two bodies.
Taking stock of how I feel, I answer her honestly, “I’m not sure.”
“Hmm, okay. I kinda am. Want me to run to the dining hall, grab us some food to eat here?”
Selfishly, I don’t want her to leave. I’m too comfortable with her in my arms, too content to want to break the trance she has me under. If I let her, I bet she could make me forget everything happening, at least for a short while…
In response to my non-answer, she starts to shimmy out of my arms. Reflexively, I try to hold her back, grabbing her tighter.
“Have to pee. Do you want to be cleaning up my trail of piss?” The combination of her words and the paired chuckle force a smile to my face, the first one in a while, though it’s somewhat emotionless. “I should probably go rewash my comforter soon too.”
“I wondered what happened to it.” Not that we needed it last night; we had each other to keep us warm.
I allow her to wiggle out, feeling an immense sense of loss immediately. My eyes follow her movements, defying me when they wander over to Macy’s side of the room. Untouched, as if she had left for vacation instead of never returning.
She’s never coming back.
The thought hits me hard, my body jolting as if I were physically slapped. Not really taking in what they see, my eyes stay trained on Macy’s side, the unmade bed she’ll never sleep in, the desk she’ll never sit at, the calendar that won’t ever flip to the next month.
A sense of dread so huge fills me, a heavy weight settling into my chest, constricting my ability to breathe. As I struggle to fill my lungs, move oxygen in and through my body, a far-off voice filters in my ears, a hand clamps on my thigh. Shaking my head, continuing the battle to breathe, a snapping of fingers appears in my vision.
“Ethan. Hey, Ethan. What’s happening right now?”
I have no words to answer her, no way to make my intentions known. Can she sense I can’t breathe? Her face seems a little worried, concerned.
“Breathe,” she instructs as she places her hand tenderly over my chest. “Relax, take a breath. It’s going to be okay.”
Doing as she says, I try to take a breath, willing my body to obey, to get the air it needs. “Don’t go,” I manage to strangle out. “Stay.”
A few seconds pass, an attempt to get me focused on her. And somehow it works. My body begins to calm, my breathing leveling out, the vacuum of noises clearing. Until she adds, “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
“No, please.” My voice isn’t my own. It’s cracked, raspy, choked.
Crouching down in front of me, she takes my hands in hers, not bothered in the slightest at how they must feel—sweaty and clammy. “I have to pee. I’ll be just down the hall. Then I’ll come back and do whatever you need.” As I nod, she gives me a sad smile then kisses my forehead. “It’s going to be okay,” she reiterates once more.
I don’t know how she knows this, how she’s so calm. Macy’s death has to be affecting her too. She lived with the girl the past three months, and yet, she doesn’t seem bothered. This idea consumes my thoughts the entire time she’s gone, so when she returns, I blurt out, “Do you not care at all she’s gone?”
My question stops her in her tracks, a bewildered look dotting her face. “W-what?” she stutters, clearly confused.
“Macy. She’s not coming back.”
“Where is this coming from?” she shoots back.
“I don’t fucking know,” I shout back, the honesty pouring out of me. Because I don’t know why my brain is so dysfunctional right now. I’ve never felt this frenzied, my thoughts jumping all over the place, not being able to settle and stick with one notion before hurtling to the next.
Adley’s arms wrap around me, her touch instantly calming, chasing away the doubts, the insecurities, the wayward ideas. As she nuzzles her head onto my chest, I feel the first tear fall. As if it was a precursor of what’s to come, the floodgates open, and soon, I’m gasping for breath for a different reason. Sobbing uncontrollably, blubbering like an idiot even though I’m not saying any actual words. Through it all, Adley doesn’t let go, holds me, squeezing me tighter the harder I weep.
In the midst of a crying spell, three words tumble out of my mouth without permission. And as soon as I let them out, my body succumbs to the exhaustion of the situation, and I promptly fall asleep to escape the immensity of it all. Except right before I drift off, I swear Adley whispers, “Ethan, I love you too.”
I wake up in a panic, tears leaking out of my eyes, the result of emotion overload and a vivid dream about Macy. Yelling, screaming, fighting me she didn’t want to live, her life was worthless, she didn’t have anything to live for, and she was saying goodbye. It’s all so real—too real—but I’m glad I woke up from the nightmare.
