by Lizzy Mason
“I really liked this,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Yeah?” I said. I tried to sound enthusiastic. “Do you still want to watch the movie?”
He paused, and I could tell that he was considering saying no. That he was still pissed. And I couldn’t blame him. But after a few seconds, he nodded.
“Yeah, sure. Sunday?” he said.
I nodded.
“Can you keep your hands to yourself?” he asked with a sly smile.
I knew he’d already started to forgive me.
“I’ll try,” I said, returning the smile as best as I could.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said.
The cool night breeze felt good against my flaming cheeks. My pulse was still racing. As we neared my front door, under my window, a memory shoved its way rudely into my mind.
“Hey,” I said, stopping on the bottom step. “How come you never showed that night a few years ago? We were supposed to sneak out, remember?”
Raf blinked. He stared sheepishly at his sneakers. “I’m sorry about that.”
“That’s not an answer,” I said. “You stood me up! Aren’t you supposed to make amends in AA?”
He sighed. “Fair enough. Remember my friend? Paul?”
I nodded.
“He liked you.”
“Really?” I tried not to smile. It was always nice to be liked, and I remembered thinking Paul was cute. It was part of the reason I’d agreed to sneak out with them in the first place. I waited for Raf to go on, and when he didn’t, I said, “So?”
“So.” His eyes met mine, full of regret. “I was jealous. I didn’t want him to hook up with you.”
Had I been that blind? Apparently, yes. I’d thought Paul was cute, sure, but Raf had been the one I was willing to follow down the dark streets of our neighborhood.
“We were hanging out in the basement,” Raf went on, “and I made him take shots until he was too drunk to go out. And then I kept drinking so I wouldn’t feel guilty about ditching you. The next day, I was too embarrassed to even apologize.”
“You were drinking that much at fourteen?” I asked. I knew I sounded judgmental. I couldn’t help it. But I was trying, anyway.
“Yeah. So . . . rehab was maybe a good idea after all.”
“Yeah, maybe it was,” I said and turned around to unlock the door. “Thanks for telling me.”
“That’s it?” he said. “You forgive me?”
I glanced back at him. “If that’s the truth, then I do. It’s sad, maybe, but understandable. You’re not the same kid you were then. So, yeah.”
Raf was almost disappointed, like he’d expected a bigger reaction. But we’d both had enough embarrassment for one night. Even as hope built like tiny champagne bubbles in my chest, I knew I couldn’t act on it. Not again. I didn’t want to go another four years without speaking to him. But then those dark eyes brightened.
“Honesty. It feels pretty good, right?”
I tried to keep a straight face. “Don’t ruin a nice, awkward moment with your therapy talk,” I said.
I opened the door and walked inside, closing it on his quiet chuckle.
I went to the diner with Cassidy the next morning. Audrey was being moved to her new rehab facility. I could have helped—Mom had asked me to come with her to get Audrey’s stuff from her hospital room—but I told her I needed to eat first and would catch up with them at the rehab center. Out of guilt, I ordered pancakes to go for Audrey. She’d appreciate that more than the pile of new nightgowns Mom was bringing.
I waited until our breakfast arrived before telling Cassidy about what had happened with Raf.
“You’re telling me he stopped you?” she said.
“Yeah, it was . . . unexpected,” I said. “But I’m glad he did.”
She looked at me for a second, weighing what she was about to say. “You know, you don’t have to be a nun just because you broke up with Mike.” Apparently, she’d decided on bluntness instead of tact.
I did know that. But I had reasons. “I’d rather have Raf as a friend than an ex-boyfriend,” I said. “And with the way I’ve been feeling lately—full of anger and bitterness—I’d just drive him away. Or he’d start drinking again. Or he’d cheat on me.”
Understanding dawned on Cassidy’s face.
“It’s just . . .” I squirmed a bit. Cassidy wasn’t going to like what I was going to say. “I’m going to see Mike in rehab tomorrow, and I’m really not handling the anxiety very well. Making out with Raf was just one way to avoid thinking about it.”
Cassidy threw her hands up. “Whoa, slow down,” she said. “You’re going to see Mike. In rehab.”
I nodded. “His mom called. She said he needed to make amends.”
“She really did that,” Cassidy grumbled. “Unbelievable.”
I reached across the table for her hand, and she reluctantly put it in mine. “Please, Cass, I need your support right now, okay? I know you hate him, I hate him, everyone hates him, but what if making amends with me is what he needs to keep from drinking?”
“You’d think almost killing your sister would do that.”
“Yeah, you would. But I need to be sure that he remembers that almost killing Audrey wasn’t the only thing that he did wrong while he was drinking. He needs to make amends for a lot more than just that. And I think maybe I need to hear him say it.”
“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “But if you’re going into the lion’s den tomorrow, the least I can do is pay for breakfast.”
I gave her hand another squeeze before she went to the cashier’s station to pay.
I knew I was putting myself in a position to be disappointed, but I wanted to believe Mike could be better. I always had. But giving him the chance to let me down again had my palms sweating.
Still, there was an upside. Raf was right. The uncertainty made me want to do something that I could control. It made me want to confront Audrey about what she and Mike had done to me. I might not get what I wanted from Mike, but I could at least finally get the satisfaction of an apology from my sister.
Her new room was a smaller space than the Neuro ICU room had been, but Mom, Dad, and I all fit. There wasn’t nearly as much room for Dad to pace, though.
Audrey was still weak and not moving much, though she could scoot herself into a wheelchair to go to the bathroom now at least. She was sitting up and alert when I walked in. Her eyes brightened when she saw me, clearly grateful for saving her from being alone with Mom and Dad. Currently, they were arguing in the corner over whether they should insist on a different room. She wouldn’t be so happy once she knew why I was separating her from them, though.
“Hey,” I said, “could I take Audy on a roll through the place?”
Mom’s first thought was no; I could see it on her face. But she managed not to say it out loud. Instead, she and Dad went to the nurses’ station to ask them if we could borrow a wheelchair. It wasn’t fair to make Audrey go through all that, but I needed privacy. And in addition to some lukewarm pancakes and fake maple syrup, I had some news that was going to upend her life.
I hung the take-out bag from one of the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Audrey out the door. Behind us, Mom and Dad stood in the empty room. They looked forlorn, like they hadn’t been picked for dodgeball.
“We’ll be fine!” I called back over my shoulder. “Back in twenty minutes, I promise.”
I wheeled Audrey to the courtyard outside. It wasn’t big, but the pathways were wide, and there was room next to a bench where I could park her and sit, which I did. I pulled out the pancakes and opened the container for her. Because Audrey didn’t always have complete control over her motor functions yet, I cut up the pancakes and speared a few bite-size pieces on a fork. Then I placed the fork between her fingers so she could dip it into the puddle of syrup and eat.
/> “This is good,” she said around her first bite. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, anything’s good when you’ve barely eaten any solid food for weeks.”
I smiled, but my stomach roiled. I’d brought her here to tell her about Mike. To tell her what she’d done. To unburden myself at last. But as I watched her struggle to eat, I realized that her life was never going to be the same. Audrey would heal, yes, but she was going to pay for her mistake every single day for the rest of her life, whether she knew why or not. Why would I want to add to that pain? Neither one of us would feel better.
Instead, I reached into the bag and pulled out a packet of butter. I peeled back the foil for her and instructed her to dip it in there first, then the syrup, before taking a bite. She needed the extra calories, and she deserved the extra flavor, but Audrey’s smile was enough of a reward.
Almost Two Years Ago
In September of our sophomore year, one of Mike’s friends had a party. Someone brought a bottle of rum from their parents’ liquor cabinet, and though I had never seen him drink before, Mike volunteered to play bartender. His concoctions turned out to just be rum and Coke, but because he was in charge of the pouring, he served himself a little more rum than he did anyone else.
At first, he was his regular self, just a little louder. He and his friends ran around making fun of each other and tried to drink more to impress the girls while we sipped our drinks slowly. Then, he got sarcastic and the jokes got pointed and a little mean.
By then, I knew what Mike was like in middle school. I knew that he was overweight (“chubby,” his mom liked to say) and that he was made fun of. I figured he was making up for lost time, but after two rum and Diet Cokes, my head was spinning and I couldn’t keep watching him alienate his friends, who were not nearly as drunk as he was.
I wanted to just lie down on the kitchen floor and take a nap, but I put my head down on the table instead. I don’t know how long I was asleep, but when I woke up, the house was empty, Mike and his friends were outside smoking, and it was almost my curfew.
I ran outside to demand that Mike drive me home when I saw how glassy his eyes were. How unsteady his steps. How braying his laugh. He saw me, and his grin widened.
“Harley Quinn!” he shouted, swinging his cigarette wildly as he lunged toward me. His friends laughed when he stumbled. “You missed it!”
“What?” I asked, trying not to let my annoyance show. “What did I miss?”
But Mike was on the ground now, and he was rolling with laughter. I didn’t really care what I had missed, but Mike’s mom was supposed to be my ride home, so I took the opportunity to grab his phone from his pocket while he was distracted. But before I could get it free, he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me down on top of him.
“I’m the drunkest,” he slurred loudly.
“You don’t say,” I hit back, deadpan.
This was how Mike always was. His friends would have a few beers; he’d have six. They’d take a shot; he’d take four. He always had to one-up everyone. But I didn’t know that yet.
“And you’re not, so you’re the lamest,” he said while I struggled to get up. I felt someone gripping my elbows and turned to see Ryan helping me up.
“Thanks,” I said to him.
Once on my feet, I looked around to find the guy whose house we were at and found an expression that mirrored my own: annoyed, with a hint of disgust.
“I’ll get him out of here,” I said.
Ryan and I grabbed Mike under each arm and hauled him to his feet, following the rest of the guys back into the house. We set Mike, who was now softly murmuring to himself with his eyes closed, on the couch.
“Do you know what happened to his mom?” I asked Ryan. “She was supposed to pick us up.”
“Once he started taking shots, he texted her and said he was sleeping here. Without asking Justin,” Ryan answered. That explained a few things.
“Can you get him home or let him sleep over at your house? Try not to let him get in trouble?”
“What about you?” Ryan asked.
“I have to go. I’m going to be late.” I was already texting Cassidy, who was one of the oldest in our grade and already had her license. “Cassidy will be here in five minutes, and she’s going to need the speed of the Flash to get me home in time.”
He sighed. “Yeah, okay, I’ll figure it out.”
“I owe you one, Ry,” I said.
I made it home at 11:35 p.m. and my parents were already in bed, asleep. I was relieved, but I almost wished they were awake and had asked me some probing questions about why Cassidy had driven me home instead of Ms. Baker, or perhaps why I smelled like cheap rum. I didn’t want to be punished, but I wanted someone to care.
When I got to my room, though, Audrey was there, waiting.
“What did you do tonight?” she asked. Her eyes were narrowed with suspicion. “Your eyes are red.”
Rather than giving an answer, I pushed her out of my room and closed the door in her face. I wanted someone to care, but I didn’t want to actually talk about it.
Mike’s mom never found out, and he didn’t drink again for a while, so I pushed that memory to the back of my mind. Until the next time it happened.
Chapter Fourteen
There was a name tag with my first name on it waiting for me at the door when I walked into the rehab center the next day. A table was set up just inside the doors where a woman with a silver bob and a turquoise blazer checked me in.
“Michael Baker,” she repeated after me when I told her who I was there to see. “You must be Harley.”
The way she said it made me wonder if he had been talking about me to her, or if she just recognized my name from some list. The thought that everyone in this place knew what happened between him and Audrey made my chest tighten. I hadn’t considered that my business was going to be on display when I said yes to being here.
I was tempted to turn and walk out, but the silver-haired woman seemed to sense that. She pointed me past the front desk and into the room just beyond where chairs were arranged in a big circle. Mike and his mom stood in its center talking to a couple other people. They hadn’t noticed me yet and the room was slowly filling up with people wearing name tags, so I stood to the side, not quite ready to put on a brave face.
I studied Mike to see if I could spot a change in him since I’d last seen him a month ago. He looked cleaner on a surface level—his hair was combed and tucked behind his ears, his oxford shirt was tucked into his khaki shorts, and the dark circles under his eyes were now just a light shadow. It was an improvement, that’s for sure.
Mike’s eyes widened when he saw me. He started toward me, so I sighed and walked to meet him halfway. Mike reached out to hug me, but when I flinched back, he dropped his arms.
“I didn’t think you would actually come,” he said. He was smiling, but I couldn’t seem to make my mouth respond in kind.
“I’m still not sure I’m staying,” I said. “I don’t know why you want me here.”
He seemed to shrink a little, and I could almost see his confidence take a hit. My emotions warred, satisfaction battling with guilt. I wanted to hurt him, but I still hated to see him hurting.
“I know that I may never be able to fix things with us,” he said, looking down at his shoes. “But I needed you to know that I’m taking this seriously.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Yeah?”
He looked up at me. “Yes,” he insisted. He opened his mouth to say more, but a tall man with thick dreadlocks and a wide, bright smile clapped his hands loudly and called to everyone to take a seat.
I sat down next to Mike in a hard plastic chair, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible. Next to him, Ms. Baker smiled at me and mouthed “Thank you,” and I nodded back, but when she reached her arm around the back of Mike’s seat
to squeeze my shoulder, I shifted out of her reach.
The man who’d called us to attention stood in the center of the circle of around thirty chairs. He spun slowly so that he could look each person in the eye as he introduced himself as Jordan, the director of the rehab center.
“Thank you all so much for being here today,” he said, “even those of you who didn’t have a choice.”
Everyone chuckled politely.
“It is so important for addicts to have the support of their families. But families are usually the people who addicts have hurt the most, and repairing the trust that was broken can be a long, bumpy road.”
If it can be repaired at all, I thought. I looked around the circle at the other family members to see if anyone was as reluctant to be here as I was. But everyone was looking attentive and nodding understandingly. I felt a little humbled. Maybe I could put my cynicism aside for a few minutes.
“That’s why we’re all here today,” Jordan said. “To try to make amends.”
My heart started racing as I worried I might have to talk in front of all these people about things like my feelings and how Mike betrayed me.
“We’re not here to air dirty laundry,” Jordan added and my pulse slowed slightly. “We’re here to learn how to work through problems and talk to each other.” He clapped his hands once and then rubbed them together, ready to get to work. “We’re going to break into smaller groups and do some individual work. But I want each of you to practice something we’ve been working on here. We call it active listening. Pay attention, defer judgment, and respond appropriately.”
A half a dozen people stood and I realized they were counselors as they started herding people into groups. Jordan walked toward Mike, his mom, and me, and stopped in front of us.
“You three are with me,” he said. Then he stuck out a massive hand and enveloped mine within it. He looked me in the eye when he shook my hand, smiling broadly. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Harley.”
