by Kyra Lennon
Silence surrounded me, heavy and oppressive. Pressing my forehead against the steering wheel, huge, body-wracking sobs spilled out of me, emptying me from the inside, making me hollow.
I wandered into my flat in an exhausted daze. I’d walked out of the hospital more than an hour ago, but after stopping to let my tears out, then calming myself down enough to drive, plus the travel time... it seemed like ages ago since I left.
Right away, I wanted to run straight back out of the apartment.
Drew’s bag from our trip to London waited in the hallway; the front pocket slightly open, the flap hanging down like a tongue poking out, mocking me. I threw my keys down on the table beside the door and went to the kitchen, giving the bag a swift kick as I walked by. It fell with a satisfying thud. I then took a bottle of water from the fridge, downing it before grabbing another and carrying it to my room.
The smell of Drew hit me immediately. The scent of his shower gel, his clothes, and... him clung to my bedroom.
With the little energy I had left, I crawled onto the bed, clinging to the t-shirt he’d left behind as if it was a security blanket, except secure was the last thing I felt.
I reached out and pulled my duvet around my shivering body, hiding myself away from everything. Everything but Drew’s T-shirt which I clutched to my chest as if it was him. I closed my eyes. Pictured him beside me. Imagined his warm arms enveloping me, maybe brushing my hair off my face and placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. Telling me to have sweet dreams. And I’d tuck my head under his chin, pull him closer, and wrap my arms around his back.
His shirt was a lousy substitute, but it was all I had.
All I’d ever have.
There was nothing in his eyes the last time he looked at me. Like his final words, they were empty. So I focused on the one thing he gave me. The tiny, over-in-a-flash hand squeeze. If it hadn’t been so tragic, I’d have laughed. Lying on my bed, cuddling Drew’s shirt and trying not to lose the sensation of his hand on mine before he ripped it away. I was pathetic, and I didn’t care.
Sometime between me cocooning myself in my duvet, and the sound of my phone ringing, I fell asleep. It was late afternoon when I woke up, but I didn’t rush to answer the call. Instead, I lifted my face off my damp pillow, finally let go of Drew’s shirt, and waited for the grief to creep over me again. The numbness of sleep made the pain go away, but with open eyes, the ache spread from my chest outwards to the tips of my fingers and toes. I threw my head back, telling myself not to cry anymore. Hard to do when everything hurt.
There’s always a second when you wake up after a horrible event when you can trick yourself into believing it was a bad dream. Reality set in way too quickly, and Drew’s face flickered into my mind as though a light switch had been thrown on. Was he still at the hospital? Did he talk to Jason? Did he talk to anyone? Desperation to see him clawed at my insides, reminding me we were done. Over.
I snapped out of my foggy-mindedness at the sound of my phone bleeping. To stop another waterfall streaming from my eyes, I went to get it to see who’d called me. Three voicemails and eighteen missed calls? My mum must have been frantic. Listening to two voicemails confirmed it. Both times, she begged me to call her as soon as possible, and I could just imagine her trying to keep herself busy while she waited for the phone to ring.
I’m a bad daughter.
I should have phoned her right after I left the hospital but I couldn’t think clearly enough to hold a conversation. Sleep helped a little, but I still wasn’t ready to hear the sadness in her voice over my split with Drew.
To avoid it for a bit longer, I listened to the final message on my answer phone, sure it would be Mum again.
Wrong.
“Hello, Ellie. This is Jayne Black. I didn’t want to do this over voicemail, but I’ve been trying to get through all day. The thing is, Ellie, while I love your work and think you’d be perfect for the job, I’m afraid after seeing today’s newspapers, I have to take back my offer. ‘Where Are You, Grey Rabbit?’ is a children’s book, and while I don’t know the ins and outs of your life, your name is now associated with drugs, and I can’t afford to have anyone who might damage my reputation working with me. I really am sorry to do this to you. I’d be more than happy to provide you with a glowing reference if you ever need one, but that’s all I can offer now. If you’d like to discuss this further, please call me. And again, I’m so sorry.”
My phone dropped from my hand, and a bitter laugh echoed through the room. Derek had called the publicity “an opportunity.” Instead, I’d lost the one job I’d always wanted. I’d lost everything I’d ever wanted. I couldn’t find anywhere to lay the blame. Was it Jason’s fault for outing my relationship with Drew so the reporters found out my name? Or for taking drugs and creating the story that got me fired? Was Drew to blame because, if he wasn’t so stubborn and angry, maybe Jason wouldn’t have used? Was it my fault for trying to protect Drew, and having it all backfire?
It didn’t fall on one single person. Between the three of us, we’d created this mess, and how did it end up? One in hospital, one fired, and one thinking he’d always be second best.
All three of us miserable and alone.
Calling Mum would have to wait. I folded my legs underneath me, grabbed a sofa cushion to hold on to, and gently rocked myself back and forth, as silent tears fell from my eyes
It didn’t take long for the events of the past few days to sweep through my friends and family. Only those closest to me knew the whole truth, at least in regards to Drew, and my firing. It was hard to appreciate the concerned phone calls when I wanted to be left alone to come to terms with everything. The press weren’t given any official word on my break up with Drew, but he was photographed looking miserable, and since I hadn’t been seen with him, they reached their own conclusions. The bonus of having very few close friends was that there was nobody to sell the real story.
Jason wasn’t getting as much of a hard time as I’d expected with the press or the public, mainly thanks to Derek’s quick thinking and super media skills. He didn’t try to cover up the overdose. Instead, he pushed the seriousness of Jason’s "condition" in a bid to gain sympathy. It worked spectacularly, and Razes Hell’s return to the music scene was already being hotly anticipated. I’d never put much faith in Derek as anything more than a greedy chancer, but he’d come through for all of us when things got rough. For the first time ever, I was glad we had him on our side.
The sting of losing my illustrating job wouldn’t wear off, no matter how hard I tried to distract myself. I didn’t call Jayne Black after the message she left. What would I say? Thanks for being so polite when you fired me? I knew the only words out of my mouth would be grovelly ones and she’d obviously made up her mind, so I let it go and holed myself up in my workroom, waiting for inspiration. Even that depressed me. The “vase” Drew and I attempted still sat at my potter’s wheel. Deformed as it was, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out.
I’d reached that level of lame.
Life without Drew was weird. Even before we got together, it was unusual for more than a couple of days to pass without us having some kind of contact. Time away from him after being completely wrapped up in each other was torture. Every muscle in my body ached with missing him; misery had settled into my bones, pressing into my flesh and making every movement painful.
So I didn’t move.
I’d reached for the phone a million times to call Drew. I never dialled because ultimately, I knew what I’d get. Deflected to voicemail, or yelled at to leave him alone. I didn’t need further confirmation of how badly I’d hurt him, and if he answered, hearing the pain in his voice would have killed me.
I couldn’t visit Jason, because he wasn’t allowed visitors for the first week of rehab. Being cut off from both of my favourite people in the world was like living without oxygen. I struggled to breathe, to function properly, always aware a fundamental part of life – my life – was missing.
The evening before I was allowed to see Jason, my sister showed up at my flat holding two boxes of pizza, and a bag filled with alcopops. She declared it was girls’ night, and set up the food and drinks on the coffee table before I could protest.
“Don’t you have college in the morning?” I asked, as Lucy rifled through the kitchen drawer.
“I do, but I’m willing to blow it off in the name of a hangover.” She emerged triumphant from the kitchen, bottle opener in hand. “Let’s get this party started!”
“We’re not having a party, Lucy,” I groaned, falling backwards onto the sofa, and tucking my hands inside the sleeves of my oversized jumper.
“Okay, not a party. But we’re not sitting in your workroom, staring at your paints and a blank canvas, either. We’re going to eat junk food, drink alcohol, and chat the way sisters are supposed to now I’m old enough to get smashed.”
The corners of my mouth twitched. Leave it to Lucy to attempt to pull me out of my funk. The girl was an unstoppable force of happy.
“Okay, baby sister.” I sat up a bit and flipped open the lid of one of the pizza boxes. Mmm, meat feast. “But not too much drinking, okay?”
She grinned. “We’ll see!”
Two hours later, both pizzas were gone, along with eight bottles of Smirnoff Ice.
I’d never been much of a drinker, so the three and a half bottles I consumed quickly went to my head. Luckily, Lucy and I were both happy drunks, and as we sprawled across the living room floor, stuffed with food, life didn’t seem quite so bad.
“I suppose you want to stay here tonight?”
“I have to. Mum and Dad will kill you if I return home in this state!”
“Hey, you were the one who brought the booze!”
“And as a responsible older sibling, you should have limited me to one bottle.” She giggled, and patted her stomach. “You probably should have stopped me eating after the first half pizza, too.”
“Oh, please. There’s nothing of you!”
Nobody ever believed we were sisters, since she was a perfect size eight, with long legs and not an extra ounce of fat on her. Me? I’d learned to love my curves years ago.
“You should make the most of your figure,” I teased. “It won’t last forever!”
“I bloody hope not, I want some boobs one day.”
I snorted out a laugh. “You’re gorgeous as you are, Luce.”
“Easy for you to say with your massive hooters!”
“They’re not massive,” I laughed, throwing a cushion across the room at her. “They’re... well proportioned.”
“Whatever. I want some. Boys like boobs.”
She let out a sigh, casting a shadow over the light conversation, and I sat up a little. So much for us being happy drunks.
“Luce? What’s going on with you? The other night you said you weren’t interested in boys.”
“I’m not.” She paused, fiddling with the embroidery on the cushion. “Well. No. I’m not, it’s... what were you doing when you were eighteen?”
“What do you mean? Are you asking if I had a boyfriend?”
She shrugged. “I guess. I’m eighteen years old and I’ve never been kissed.”
Wow. I never thought my first big sister talk would happen under the influence of alcohol. Maybe that was why she felt brave enough to ask. It’s not that we weren’t close. We just weren’t secret-sharing close. This was brand new territory.
“Well,” I propped myself against the sofa, preparing to sound all wise and profound, “I didn’t have my first kiss until my eighteenth birthday.”
“So... you had a boyfriend when you were eighteen?”
“Not exactly. I didn’t have a proper boyfriend until I was at university.”
Lucy straightened up a little, smirking as if she was about to land a major scoop. “Does this mean the kiss on your birthday was a crafty one with a stranger?”
Oh boy.
“No. It wasn’t a one-off or a stranger.”
“But it wasn’t a boyfriend?”
“It was Jason.”
The smirk slipped from Lucy’s face as her jaw dropped. “Jason? Jason? Your first kiss was with Jason Brooks?”
I nodded, and took a small sip of my drink while she processed the information. Every time I blinked, her expression switched, from shock, to confusion, to wide-eyed disbelief, until settling on how-the-hell-did-that-ever-happen?
“I had a gigantic crush on him when I was growing up,” I explained. “I didn’t know if he knew, or if he cared, or if he only saw me as a friend. Do you remember Mum and Dad taking you to Grandma’s the weekend of my eighteenth so I could have a party?”
Lucy nodded. “I hated you because you wouldn’t let me stay.”
“Yeah, you did.” I laughed. “Well, I was really surprised when Jason and Drew showed up because I didn’t think they’d want to hang out with my friends, but they did. They were the last ones to leave. Jason gave me my first kiss when he said goodnight.”
Eighteen seemed a million years ago, and that night felt like another life. In many ways, it was.
Lucy was silent for a few minutes. “What was it like?”
“Well, first kisses are always-”
“No,” she interrupted. “What was it like kissing Jason?”
Her cheeks flamed, and she closed her eyes, burying her face into the cushion I’d thrown at her.
What the hell?
“Wh...? Lucy, are you... do you...?”
“Yes,” she mumbled from behind her cushion-shield. “I like Jason.”
I sat bolt upright. “Jason?”
I must be more pissed than I thought. Lucy. Jason? Too insane for words.
“What?” Lucy asked. “You liked him once, too.”
“Well, yes. But... it’s not the same thing. You... I... why?”
“Why do you think? He’s Jason Brooks. I like him for the same reasons a million other girls do.”
I shook my head. “I’m not buying it. Other girls are into him because he’s famous and he knows how to rock the stage. You know him for real.”
Well. Kind of. At least, she knew he was more than his onstage persona.
“I like that, too. How he’s real, and although he becomes someone else on stage, he’s still mostly himself. He’s funny and honest and... gorgeous.” Her face flushed brighter and she pulled the cushion closer to her. “Anyway, it’s no big deal.”
“If you didn’t think it was a big deal, you wouldn’t be hiding.”
“He’s your best friend and you’re my sister. It’s embarrassing! More so now I’ve discovered you used to go out with him!”
“I didn’t go out with him. We got drunk a few times and... stuff happened.”
She winced as if my words caused her actual, physical pain. “What kind of stuff? Oh my God, did you have sex with him?”
“No! Mostly kissing. We were young, we drank a lot, and we ended up in my room at uni and there was... occasional... touching. But nothing heavy!” I added, quickly. “Drunken fumbling before we passed out.”
“Did you want to have sex with him?”
“Lucy, come on!” I stood up and busied myself collecting the empty bottles. “Why are you grilling me about something that happened six years ago?”
I desperately regretted telling her the truth, but how was I to know she was harbouring a crush? I cast my mind back, looking for signs. The other night at my parents’ house, she blushed a few times when he talked to her, but... she could be shy sometimes, even around people she knew. I remembered how she wiggled her hips and eyebrows when she asked him if he wanted to join in with the dance game, but she was on a total high from the fame she’d get from me dating Drew. What about before then? Christmas? Jason got drunk after Christmas dinner and fell asleep on the sofa and she covered him with a blanket. Wouldn’t anyone do that, though?
“I want to know.”
Oh, wow. She’s got it bad.
With a sigh, I put the bottles back on
the table and sank down to the floor beside her.
“I thought I wanted to be with him, but he didn’t want a relationship, he wanted to screw around. I didn’t want that kind of relationship with him. Or anyone. Then I met someone else, and it was all over.”
“Just like that?”
I nodded. “It was nothing more than two drunken idiots messing around.”
“Didn’t it hurt to let him go?”
“No. He was still my best friend. All I let go of was a silly, childish crush.”
“Is that what I have? A crush?”
“I don’t know.” I pulled her into a one-armed hug. “Does it feel like a crush?”
Lucy shrugged again, and rested her head on my shoulder. “I suppose that’s all it’ll ever be. To him, I’m just your little sister.”
“Well, he is ten years older than you.”
“Drew’s eight years older than you. Ten isn’t much more of a difference.”
It’s a big difference when you’re eighteen.
The mention of Drew’s name punctured through my comfortable, tipsy fog, and stabbed at my chest. “Drew used to think I was ‘just Jason’s childish friend.’ I’m pretty sure he thinks that now, too.”
Lucy snuggled in closer to me, resting her hand on mine. “Sorry, Ellie. I didn’t mean to bring him up tonight. I’m supposed to be cheering you up. Instead, I’m whining that Jason – who has way bigger issues right now – doesn’t know I’m alive.”
Eight years, ten years. It wasn’t such a big deal, except Jason was currently in rehab for cocaine addiction. I wasn’t sure how I felt about my sister having any kind of feelings for him. A little too weird to comprehend. No doubt he saw Lucy was a stunner, but I figured she was right. He didn’t think of her that way. I hoped for her sake it was nothing more than a passing phase. If I’d learned anything over the course of my life, it was mixing lifelong friendships with romance could get complicated really fast.
“Ellie, you insensitive bint,” Jason whispered in my ear as he pulled me into a hug. “Walking into a rehabilitation centre with a hangover? You should be ashamed of yourself!”
