by Natalie Ward
But then there’s the guilt of it all too. The guilt of that night, which is probably the real reason I can’t ever talk about it.
“Nick?” Emma whispers, squeezing my hand.
I offer what I hope is a reassuring smile before saying, “Amy told me I was an idiot for not telling you.”
“Amy?” she asks, confused.
My smile widens a little as I imagine Emma thinks I’ve truly lost my mind and am somehow now communicating with my dead sister. “Amy, her friend. It’s where I was last week.”
“Oh,” she says.
I nod. “She told me I was an idiot, especially after all the confusion with the tattoo and stuff. She couldn’t understand why I hadn’t told you everything.”
Emma nods as though she understands. “Why didn’t you?” she asks carefully.
I take a deep breath, letting it out in a long exhale. “I don’t know,” I tell her, even though deep down, I know exactly why. “It’s just…it’s just not something I ever want to talk about.”
“So why are you okay with this morning?”
I lift our hands, pulling them towards my mouth as I press a kiss to the back of one of hers. I offer her a small smile, kissing her skin again before saying, “And you always thought it would be your job that would ruin this.”
“Nick,” Emma whispers, moving her chair around so she’s sitting beside me. She uncurls one of her hands, sliding it onto my cheek as she turns me to face her. “Nothing is ruined,” she whispers.
“Are you sure about that?” I whisper back, not certain I can believe her.
Emma nods. “I’m sure,” she says, before leaning in to kiss me.
~ Emma
After we’ve finished our coffees, I take Nick home. I try to convince him to fill the sleeping tablet prescription, but he resists, practically begging me not to force him.
A part of me gets it; especially now I know the pills were a tool in Amy’s death. But the other part of me knows he can’t go on not getting any sleep either.
We spend the afternoon on the couch, neither of us saying much, the conversation we started back in the coffee shop, somehow getting left behind as we walked out the door.
I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want to bring all of the bad memories back to his home or because despite our time with Adrian, he’s still not really ready to talk about things. Either way, the second we walk into his apartment, we are back to how things were last night. How things have been for the past week.
Nick is quiet and withdrawn, barely looking at me as he lies on the couch and watches a TV show that he isn’t even paying attention to. I try to continue what we started, but his one-word answers soon become nods and shakes of the head. His silence telling me more than anything else can.
Eventually I give up and wander into the kitchen to make us some dinner that I know he’ll barely eat. I find the screwed up sleeping pill prescription in the garbage and as I reach for it, it crosses my mind that I could force him to take these if I really wanted to. Hell, I could slip one into his beer and he’d never even know.
I know I won’t though, because that’s a line even I won’t cross.
After dinner, during which I somehow manage to get Nick to eat half of what I make him, I return to the kitchen, stalling with the cleaning so I can text Tony.
Me: hey, how’s things?
Tony: all good, bar’s covered this week. How’s Nick?
I take a deep breath, glancing quickly into the living room and Nick lying on the couch. He’s barely paying attention to the TV, let alone the fact I’m not there.
Me: the same.
Tony: shit…how are you?
The half laugh escapes before I can stop it.
Me: the same.
I see the bubbles of Tony’s typing pop up and disappear for what feels like ages until eventually the message comes through.
Tony: he needs help Em. I know you want to give him that, but I think it’s reached the point where he needs professional help. He won’t go, he doesn’t believe it can help, but it’s what he needs. I’m not trying to be a dick here, I know you care about him, a lot. I do too and I just want him to start dealing with this. Finally face everything that’s happened and deal with it.
All of the air leaves my lungs as relief washes over me. I type quickly, needing to respond.
Me: believe me, I feel the same way. I actually took him to see someone this morning.
Tony’s response is quick. A shrink??? Seriously??
Me: yes.
Tony: SHIT! How’d he take that??
I pause, glancing again at Nick to check he hasn’t noticed me. But he hasn’t, his eyes fixed on the TV.
Me: mmm I don’t know. He stayed, he talked…a little anyway. Says he’s going to go back.
Tony: fuck, good on you Em, seriously. I never thought he’d do that.
Me: he needs sleep too, but he won’t take anything so he can.
Tony: you know he never will. He can’t, not after Amy.
I nod, even though Tony can’t see me.
Tony: just be there for him, sleep will come.
I let out a long exhale, wondering when that time will be.
Me: yeah I hope so. And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. You’ll let me know if you need help with the bar? I’m off work at the moment and can always help out.
Tony: It’s all good, Emma, seriously. And thank you.
Me: for what?
Tony doesn’t respond straight away and I can only assume it’s because he’s had to go. Even though he says he doesn’t need my help with the bar, I can’t help but wonder if that’s really true, if maybe I shouldn’t go downstairs one night and offer to help out for a bit.
I don’t know how Nick would feel about that and I’m not sure how comfortable I’d feel about leaving him up here alone either. I’m certain he wouldn’t do anything to hurt himself, but there’s also a part of me that knows, despite his reluctance to talk, he can’t be on his own right now.
I slide my phone into my pocket and head back to the living room. Just as I’m about to sit down, my phone vibrates with another text.
Tony: for walking into his bar that night.
~ Nick
The nightmare is different tonight. This time there’s no body in the bathtub and no blood on the floor. In its place is me, sitting on the bathroom floor, the room completely empty except for a dripping tap, the noise echoing off the white tiles. My body feels paralysed with fear for some reason and when I look up, I see Emma standing in the doorway, watching me.
I try to reach for her, but I can’t move my arms. When I open my mouth to speak, no words come out. Emma stares back at me, a strange look on her face as she says something I can’t hear before closing the door and plunging the whole room into darkness.
That’s when I wake up.
What the fuck was that about?
Emma lies asleep beside me. I don’t move, staying in bed as I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling and try to work out what this dream could possibly mean.
If it means anything at all.
The shrink never asked me about the nightmares I’ve been having. He never even asked me about how I was sleeping, just tried to give me the tablets. I don’t know if Emma told him or if he could just tell I haven’t been because I look and feel so fucking exhausted.
I can’t take them though, no matter how much I might want to sleep. It’s not just because of Amy and everything that happened with her. It’s the nightmares too. I’m terrified of getting caught in one of them and not being able to wake up. Right now it’s the only escape I have.
I look over at Emma again, wonder how the hell she is still here. I can’t imagine what she thinks of me right now, how much worse it’s going to get when she finds out the truth.
I’m ruining us with all the shit that I can’t seem to deal with, but I know I’m going to destroy her when she finds out the reasons.
I exhale, knowing I’m not gettin
g back to sleep tonight. I slide out of bed and wander into the living room. I skip the TV this time, instead grabbing my phone and headphones. I scroll through my music, looking for something to distract me, before leaning back on the couch and waiting for morning to come.
~ Emma
The next few weeks pass in much the same way. Nick still doesn’t sleep or talk much, but he doesn’t spend his nights endlessly drinking in front of the TV either. I don’t know what inspired the change, but it feels like a tiny step in the right direction at least.
I go back to work too, and while I try not to worry about him being at home alone in his apartment, I know I’m still distracted enough by thoughts of him that I do. I don’t mess up as much as before, but I can feel Jason watching me. Part of me thinks it’s to make sure I don’t kill anyone and part of me knows it’s because he’s dying to ask me about it all. I’m sure he and Adrian have talked, but I’m confident Adrian won’t break the doctor patient confidentiality thing.
So I force myself to focus, to ignore Jason’s looks and silent questions and to do my job so I can go back to Nick’s apartment and do my job there. Tony and Amy both offer to drop in and check on him during the day and I tell them they should, hoping Nick actually lets them in. I also tell Tony to try and convince him to go back to work, or at least sit down there with him during a shift, but it doesn’t seem to work. For whatever reason, Nick doesn’t answer the door when they visit him, and he doesn’t seem to want anything to do with the bar either.
The disconnect from his friends his bad enough, but given the bar was always his and Amy’s dream and his last tangible connection to her, ignoring that just feels wrong.
“You okay?” I ask, just as I always do when we walk into Adrian’s office.
Nick nods unconvincingly. Even though it’s been a couple of weeks since we started this, he’s just as uneasy as he was that very first we walked in here. No amount of reassurance from me seems to change that.
I squeeze his hand. “You sure you want me to keep coming in with you?” I ask, knowing that while he hasn’t yet talked about the details of what happened to Amy or the night she died, it’s really only a matter of time. Things might have improved with him at least talking, but I know there’s still a long way to go. And as much as it pains me to admit this, I also know that before we can get back to anything resembling normal again, things are going to get much worse first.
“Yes,” he says quickly, turning to look at me. “Will you?”
“Of course.”
As always, Adrian greets us warmly, ushering us inside and offering us the same couch he always does. He once again asks Nick how he’s feeling and how he’s been sleeping since we last spoke.
“The same,” is all he replies.
Adrian nods before reaching for his notebook. “Okay, well it’s going to take some time,” he says, skipping the spiel he normally gives him about the sleeping tablets. “And I’m not going to lie and say it’s going to be easy, because it won’t be. But the more we keep talking about things, the sooner that break will come.”
Nick nods, his eyes on the floor as his foot nervously taps away. I can tell he isn’t really convinced and I know the longer he doesn’t believe what Adrian is telling him, the harder this is going to be. But I also know that no one can force him either. That nothing is going to get better until Nick decides he’s ready for things to get better.
As impatient as we all might be, the only thing we can do is wait.
“Nick,” Adrian says, waiting until he looks up before continuing. “I am here to help you, you do know that, right?”
Nick swallows hard. “Yes.”
“And you do want to get help, don’t you? You want to be able to move past this?”
“Yes.”
“Alright,” Adrian says, nodding as though he’s glad they can agree on at least that. “So, can we talk about the night that all this started then?”
Nick tenses beside me, his whole body freezing. “What?”
Adrian offers a kind smile. “Can you tell me about the night Amy was…”
“Don’t,” Nick says, cutting him off.
Adrian nods as though he gets it, but says nothing more.
“Do we have to?” Nick asks, the words barely audible.
“You know we do, Nick,” Adrian says.
Shit. It’s time.
About A Year And Three Months Before That Night…
~ Nick
“Amy!!” I yell, in an effort to be heard above the music. Tony grins, shaking his head as he walks past, a carton of beer in his arms. “Amy!?”
“What? Jesus, stop yelling,” she eventually says as she walks out of the kitchen.
“Kinda hard not to with the music so loud,” I say, gesturing towards the jukebox.
Amy rolls her eyes at me before wandering over and somehow turning it down. “Okay grandpa, better?” she asks, smirking. “What’s up?”
“Smart arse,” I murmur. “Is Zach here yet?”
Amy exhales, running a hand through her hair. “No, not yet. But he has texted to say he’s on his way.”
“On his way?” I ask. “He’s two fucking hours late.”
“I know, I know,” she says nodding. “Last straw, right?”
“Yes, last straw,” I tell her. “We can’t keep letting him get away with this. We’re trying to run a business here, not a fucking charity.”
Amy slides onto a barstool. “I know we are,” she says. “What do you want me to do, tell him now or after his shift?”
“We tell him now and there won’t be a shift,” I say. “But there also won’t be any food tonight.”
“So after then?” she says, as the door opens and Zach finally walks in. “You’re late,” Amy immediately says to him.
“I know,” he says, hands up in some half-arsed apology. “I’m sorry, okay? I just lost track of time.”
It’s a bullshit excuse, he knows it and we know it. I’m not sure why we’ve let him get away with it in the past, but Amy’s right, this is the last straw. We’ve worked too long and too hard to get this place open to have him fuck it up by showing up to work whenever he feels like it.
“I’ve made a start on the prep,” she continues. “But you’re going to need to pull your finger out to get things ready for tonight.”
“Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s pissed off at the way Amy is talking to him. His reaction pisses me off though. Not just his lack of respect for the job, but his lack of respect for her too.
“Zach,” I call out as he heads back to the kitchen to finally start working.
“Yeah?” he says, stopping as he looks back.
“After your shift tonight,” I say. “We need to have a talk.”
It’s probably the wrong thing to say right before he’s about to start work, but if the guy doesn’t already know he’s walking a fine line of remaining employed, then he’s fucking dumber than I thought. Even if me saying this to him now only serves to piss him off even more, I don’t care. He doesn’t get to speak to Amy like that, nor treat her the way he does.
“Okay?” I ask, when he doesn’t respond.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles as he heads back to the kitchen.
“So, before his shift then?” Amy asks, eyebrows raised in question.
I let out a long exhale. “I know, sorry. I just…he just pisses me off with that fucking attitude of his. Like we are somehow doing him a favour with this.”
Amy nods and I know she feels the same way. “Yeah, he’s a dick, I’ll give you that. Bad choice hiring him, but let’s just get through tonight and then we can sort it all out.”
“Yeah,” I say, wondering if it’s going to be that easy.
“Looks like your girlfriend is back?” Amy says, smiling at me as the bar continues to fill with customers.
“What?”
She nods towards the end of the bar, at the ladies standing around, laughing and chatting,
and waiting to be served. One of them, the one Amy is referring to because she was in here last weekend, catches my eye and smiles at me. I automatically smile back, even as I feel Amy nudge me in the ribs.
“I think she likes you,” she says, laughing.
“I think you’re making shit up,” I say, turning away.
“Bullshit,” Amy says, pushing me towards them. “You forget, Nick,” she says, tapping her temple. “I know everything, especially when it comes to you.”
I roll my eyes at her, even though I’m smiling. “Whatever,” I reply, as I head down the bar to serve them all. The woman in question is still watching me, maybe wondering about the exact nature of Amy’s and my relationship. I don’t offer an explanation as I ask what I can get them, but I don’t miss the glance at my ring finger either.
She’s pretty and would probably be my type if I were interested in having one. As it is right now, I’m just interested in having fun. I have no desire to have a serious girlfriend and definitely no plans to settle down. But if she’s on board for some casual fun, then I’m game.
I spend the rest of the night talking and flirting with her. The friends she’s with all seem to be encouraging her, which I take as a good sign, and even though we are busy, I spend most of my time hanging down her end of the bar.
I catch Tony grinning at me, while Amy shakes her head as if to say I told you so. It’s not like either of those two can talk, they’ve been flirting with each other ever since we decided to open this bar. And if I was tell Amy I know everything about her too, like how much she fancies Tony, I’ve got no doubt I’d get the same reaction I gave her when she suggested it to me.
“Your friends leave?” I ask the woman, later in the night.
She nods as she slides back onto her bar stool. “They did,” she confirms. “Gone to the club down the road.”
I nod, knowing that’s where most of the customers who want to party go after we close for the night. “You didn’t want to go with them?” I ask, smiling at her.
