Coming Up for Air

by Nicole B. Tyndall

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, Hadley. For all of it. I’m so, so sorry. The things I did—” He cuts himself off. “There’s no excuse.”

  He’s here. He’s sober. He’s him again. I talk through my tears. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t realize…I should have—”

  “No. What happened was my fault, okay? Mine.” He’s so close, I can feel his ragged breath, can see every shade of brown and green in his eyes. A gentle thumb traces my jaw. “I will never let anything like that happen again, okay? Ever. I love you, Hadley. I love you so much. I’m never risking you again.”

  My answer moves from my heart up my throat and out my mouth. “I love you too.” And it’s true, but it also tugs at something uneasy from deep inside me.

  I watch him exhale, and then he’s taking my face and bringing me back into him.

  A memory of the party the other night makes me hesitate, but only for a second.

  I kiss him to show how much I’ve missed him. To show how imagining a world without him made all the lights go out. I pour my every emotion into it, a kiss that hurts as much as it soothes.

  I press a hand into his chest, and I’m shocked by the pained sound he makes.

  I stop immediately. “Are you okay?”

  He touches his chest with prudent fingers. “I’m fine. Just where the chest tube went in.” He offers half a smile through his grimace. “It hurts like hell, but not because of you.”

  It’s only a glimmer—something in the way he’s standing, the light in his eyes—but it’s the first trace of his personality that I’ve seen in weeks. And it makes me want to laugh out loud, maybe even dance a little. In response, I tease him, “Do you want me to call somebody? One of the nurses and I had a real bonding experience.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Totally. I tried to break in at three in the morning.”

  Amusement flickers in his eyes. “My girl learned a thing or two, huh?” He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. I marvel at the way our fingers still fit together so easily. The way his skin still makes mine feel electric. “And what nurse could deny you?”

  I slide my hand back and forth against his. “I don’t know her name. Thirtysomething maybe? Freckles, dark blond.”

  “Jeanette,” he says.

  “Of course you know her name.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Of the women who kept you alive? No, I’m grateful.”

  He traces my fingers with his. “Speaking of nurses, how’s Mia? I’m sorry. I should have asked right away.” He looks at my mouth. “You distracted me.”

  I bite my smile. “She’s good. Radiation is…It’s not fun. She’s really tired. She has to go every day. But the prognosis is good.”

  “She’s tough as nails.” He squeezes my hand. “Hadley?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know everything is so messed up, and maybe this is stupid. But do you want to do something normal? With everything, I’m kind of dying for normal. Want to go for a walk? Go to a movie?” He laughs. “Is that boring?”

  Relief courses through me. “A movie sounds sort of great, actually. I’m tired of thinking.”

  “Yeah, exactly! I knew you’d get it. I know we have a lot to figure out. But it can wait a couple hours, right?”

  I nod, taking pleasure in his delighted face. “Yeah. It can wait.” Because he’s here. He’s him. And just being in his presence sounds way better than sorting out our mess.

  “Okay, you choose which one. I’m going to run inside and use the bathroom.” He pauses. “Look up times? Meet you back out in a second; we can go to the soonest one?”

  I agree, and he kisses me again, sweetly on the lips, before heading inside. My heart warms watching him walk into the house.

  Retrieving my purse from my car, I dig for my phone. When I finally fish it out, I remember that it’s dead. The closest charger is inside. I open the back door. Two steps into the kitchen, I see Braden’s back to me.

  He’s digging through the cabinet.

  The truth hits me before I have a second to think: Mom’s medication.

  When he hears me, he freezes.

  And the second I see his reaction, I’m sure.

  My whole body cracks and shatters.

  I shouldn’t be surprised.

  I shouldn’t feel this shock wave of betrayal.

  I should have known better.

  For a beat, we stand in total silence.

  My eyes drill into his back.

  He turns around slowly. “I had a headache—”

  My throat is so tight I can hardly speak. “Don’t.”

  “Had—”

  “How could you—” It’s a sob more than words.

  “I didn’t. Hadley—” He moves closer, reaches for me.

  I take a step backward, reeling. “All the things you just said to me…” My voice is a whisper. “I’m so stupid.”

  “No. No. Hadley, don’t say that. Of course you’re not stupid. I meant every word I said. I just came in here and I remembered she had…You know, just in case.”

  “In case of what? Look at you, you’re not swimming anytime soon! And I told you she needs those. You knew that. Braden, think about what you’re doing!” I shake my head, replaying the last twenty minutes in a darker light—seeing his real intentions. “This was a mistake. This was all a mistake.”

  He almost fooled me. Again.

  Nothing has changed. He isn’t two different people. He’s just one person making terrible choices, again and again. And I can’t, won’t, be his collateral damage any longer.

  “We are not a mistake.” He turns and shuts the cabinet. “That was a mistake. And nothing even happened—I didn’t take anything! We love each other. We’ll talk through it, like we said. We can work through anything….”

  I take a step away from him, my mind racing. As he tries to justify his behavior, a realization dawns on me, like a punch to the gut: I don’t love him anymore. It was easy to say because I’ve said it so many times before. Because I see flashes of who he was, and I miss that person so deeply that sometimes it feels like drowning. And while I certainly feel something for the boy in front of me, something big and undeniable, it’s not love, not really. It’s rotten.

  Real love comes from safety, from trust; not this feeling rooted in desperation. It makes me want to scream and bang on his chest, demanding back who I used to know. But he’s gone, and nothing is going to bring him back. What I feel now is the shadow of love, and all it has to offer is heartache.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “What? No—”

  “Braden, I just caught you rifling through my mom’s pills. My mom, who is right at this minute having radiation therapy.” I let the brutal truth out. “You need to get help.”

  He pleads, “I didn’t take anything. It was one misstep.”

  “One?” I shake away a million thoughts before I settle on what I want to say. I take a breath and look him dead in the eye. “I can’t pretend to understand. It keeps me up at night, trying to understand.”

  He tries to interrupt, but I put a hand up in his direction.

  I continue, “I want to understand. I keep making excuses for you. Or blaming everything on the drugs. God, Brade, I wish I could blame everything on the drugs.” Emotion makes my voice waver. “But it’s also you. Your hands on that steering wheel, your hands on those orange bottles, and your hands stealing my camera.” My eyes drift to the medicine cabinet. “And this, now. You just chose those pills over me, again. It isn’t one—”

  Angry tears fall down his face. “Chose? Hadley, I didn’t choose! I don’t want to feel like this!”

  “You keep choosing not to get help—”

  His face is furious. “You know what? You’re right, Hadley. It is me. I’m the one who almost died. I’m the
one who lost everything.”

  “Stop it! Stop trying to make me feel bad for you! I already feel terrible.” I take a shaking breath. “But you knew you had a problem, Braden, and you didn’t do a damn thing to stop it before—” My voice cracks, thinking of all the things he could have prevented. I can’t bring myself to list them. “You thought you could bury it, but you can’t!” I stomp my foot in furious frustration as I gesture around us. “The secret is fucking out!”

  “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t take it! You came in before—”

  “Right. I stopped you.” I pause, taking him in. There’s still a small, urgent part of me that wants to pretend this never happened. To go along with his line of thinking. He didn’t actually steal the pills. But that voice is easier to quiet now.

  Because for the first time, I understand that Braden and I are irrevocably broken.

  “Hadley, we can fix this. I’ll get help. I’ll go now. Today.”

  I shake my head. “I hope you do. But for us, it’s too late, Braden. You made your choice before the accident, and you just made it again now.”

  “No, please, there has to be something….” I watch a thousand thoughts cross his eyes. It feels like I’m watching our whole relationship pass by, up to this moment: the final realization. He knows it too. He knows that while I could look past him hurting me, I could never forgive him for taking advantage of the worst thing that has happened to my family. I could never forgive him for hurting Mom.

  We both know it’s over.

  But still, one last time, he says, “Hadley, I didn’t—”

  “I can’t. I wanted to. But this…I just. I can’t.”

  I watch him swallow. Reluctantly, almost imperceptibly, he nods.

  And when he leaves, the loss is sharp. I feel like I took a blade to my insides, carving him out before everything else started to rot. I’m bleeding, but I know I’m healthier too.

  * * *

  I sit at the kitchen table with the sound of the closing door echoing in my head. I’m not sure how long I’m there before I unclasp Braden’s necklace and let it pool in my hand. A key to the room of a boy who won’t be there, not as I remember him, no matter how much I want him to be.

  And I know there’s one last thing I have to do. Something I owe that boy. Something I should have done the moment I first suspected.

  I pick up my phone, and it rings three times before a tense voice answers. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Roberts.”

  “Hadley?”

  “Yeah.” I pause, unsure how to tell her this. “Um, I just saw Braden.”

  “What—”

  I cut her off and force myself to speak. I tell her about what happened. That there was no mistaking his actions. That I’m certain. “He tried to take more pills. And I don’t know what he’s telling you, but he hasn’t stopped. Not since…your house.” I push away the memories of that other morning. “And I just wanted to tell you that I’m so sorry for my part in this. I was trying to help, but I made it worse. And I can’t fix it. I get that now. But I thought you might be able to help him. Maybe get him into a rehab facility or something? I don’t know. I just needed to tell you.”

  The other end of the phone is quiet for a long time. And then she sighs, long and slow. I wish I could see the expression on her face. The silence stretches, until finally, she says, “Thank you for telling me, Hadley.”

  “I really want him to get better. I never wanted anything but that.”

  “Me too,” she answers sadly before she hangs up.

  And then, long after the line goes dead, I sit alone, doubting every choice I’ve made in the last year, running my finger along the sharp edges of his key, wondering how I’ll ever live with all of it.

  “Hadley?” Remy stands at the doorframe.

  I blink, letting my room come into focus. “Remy? What are you doing home?”

  “I got a ride. I wanted to talk to you. Judd told me about Braden.” Remy and I haven’t spoken much since our fight, since she left for school, weeks ago. “Is it okay if I come in?”

  I nod.

  “Are you all right?” my sister asks, settling on the edge of my bed. “I called your name a couple times.”

  “Sorry. Distracted, I guess.” The truth is, I’m second-guessing everything. Should I be able to forgive Braden, because he’s addicted, and it’s out of his control? Am I being heartless? Is it even his fault? What if Braden’s mom doesn’t believe her son needs to go to rehab? What if, because I’m not there, something terrible happens? How would I ever live with myself?

  But at the same time, how can I stay?

  I can’t stand by and watch him ruin his life. I can’t let him steal from Mom. How could I possibly condone that?

  I can’t bear leaving or staying. So I’m stuck, twisted in the covers of my bed.

  Remy scoots closer. “Hads, I’m no stranger to heartbreak, so I get it, but you’re worrying me. I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “I don’t…” I exhale the next words. “I don’t know what to do.”

  She looks around my room, the one I’ve hardly left in days, and back at me. And I know, to her, it probably looks bad. It’s bordering on gross, but I can’t bring myself to care.

  “Do you want to talk?” she asks gently. “Maybe to get out of here?”

  “Aren’t you mad at me? Don’t you think I’m weak or stupid or something?”

  “No. And yeah. But everybody is stupid sometimes.”

  “Well, I’m mad at you.” I grip on to my pillow. “And I can’t leave.”

  She ignores the first part of what I said. “What do you mean you can’t?”

  Emotion settles in my throat, and I struggle to get the words out. I wrap my arms around my legs, buying time to find my voice. “He’s in trouble. And he helped me through Mom’s stuff, and now I’m just leaving him? But staying…I don’t know how.”

  She sighs, tilting her head. “Hads.”

  My vision goes blurry. “It doesn’t make any sense. I know.”

  Remy climbs into bed next to me, ignoring the used tissues, and pulls me into her side. She presses her cheek into my dirty hair. “It makes sense to me.”

  The kindness undoes me.

  I don’t deserve it.

  My breathing breaks, turning to gasps and sobs. “I think he needs me, Rem. He needs me and I left.” She squeezes my hand, and my most fragile thoughts spill over. “I didn’t want to leave. I love him, I love him so much, and I kept trying. But I could have tried harder. Better. Nothing I did was anything at all.”

  When I stop, my sister says, “I think you did everything you could.”

  “I gave him an ultimatum, Remy. It was for me. I was selfish.”

  “Hadley, you gave him a choice, and he made it. That’s the opposite of selfish. You were prepared to give up somebody you love to help them.”

  I shake my head. “I did it because I was mad. And scared.”

  “No you didn’t, not really. If he had been willing to stop, everything would be different.”

  I shrug.

  “Did something change? Is he going to get some help?”

  I remember Braden’s empty promises, my heart aching for them to be true. “He said he’d get help. But only after he acted like everything was okay, and then I caught him…trying to get more. And he’s been lying so much. I don’t believe him anymore. But I feel guilty. Like I’m giving up on him when he needs me most.”

  Remy sighs. “It didn’t feel like a real offer? Like too little too late?”

  I nod, trying not to let my tears fall.

  “If it helps, I wouldn’t believe him either; not if he told me that way. It doesn’t sound like he’s trying.”

  My emotions are such a mess, and now anger flashes through me. “Remy, of course he’s try
ing! It’s just…It’s like he thought that this scholarship was more important than anything else. Than his health. And then the accident, and withdrawal, and he thinks he lost everything. And who knows what the hell is going to happen to his swim career now. And it’s not his fault the doctors prescribed some shitty, unsafe meds. They’re the ones who should know better. And the pills made him, I don’t know…He wasn’t himself! And how is that fair?”

  The way she looks at me, calm and sad, it’s like she knows who I’m really angry with. “It isn’t,” she relents. “Hads, I’m not saying it’s his fault. I think it’s terrible. And…I get how it’s confusing. But it did happen.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s just that, as bad as it sucks, it happened. He has an addiction. And you can spend as much time as you want being pissed about it, at him or whoever else, but it’s still true. And the thing is, you tried to help. Even if your help wasn’t perfect. You talked to him, you did research, you bought that medication, you called nine-one-one, you may have even saved his life, and you talked to his parents about getting him into rehab.”

  I’m annoyed Becca told her all that. “No, that’s not— I did so many things wrong too. I made it worse. He said it wasn’t a problem, and I believed him. Or maybe I pretended to believe him. I don’t know, but I took the easy way out.”

  “Maybe. But it’s hard to know; there’s no right answer. And I do think you tried. Can you honestly tell me how Braden tried?”

  “What? I just did.”

  “No you didn’t.” She looks at me, brows stern. “Because Mom…She had something awful happen to her too. Something she couldn’t control, that wasn’t fair. And you know what? She fought it. She did the hard, awful things she needed to, to get better. Surgery, chemo, losing her hair, months of nausea and pain, tattooing her body for daily radiation…she did everything. And she didn’t just do it for her; she did it for us. The people she loves.” Remy’s lips are thin. “I did some research too, Hads. And if addiction is a disease, like cancer—like what Mom has—what did Braden do to fight his?”

  I want to object. I want to say that Braden fought hard. He saw so many doctors. He hated feeling that way. But I keep coming up empty-handed. Did Braden actually fight the addiction, or did he only fight to keep swimming, to keep things the same?