by Skylar Heart
I open my eyes, blinking, but it’s still dark in the room, that’s not just in my head. I try to move but I feel Dylan’s head leaning against my side, so I stop.
He’s right here, protecting me. Now I feel even more like an ass. Fuck.
But I do have to get up, I need to relieve myself. Getting drunk on beer sounds like a cheap idea, but it sucks balls, especially since you always have to piss so much afterwards.
“Mal?” Dylan moves, reaching out for me as I try to climb past him.
“Just gonna use the loo.” I keep my voice low, stumbling to the bathroom in the dark. The buzz from the alcohol hasn’t fully disappeared yet.
Once I turn the light on in the bathroom, I’m nearly blinded by it. I stare at the loo but then decide against taking a leak standing up. My aim is still too bad to attempt that without having to worry about cleaning the whole damn thing in the morning. I shove my jeans and boxer briefs down and sit down, my head doing one of those fun spins again and I groan. Let’s hope I won’t have too much of a hangover from this. Like I needed today to get any worse...
“Mal?” Dylan knocks on the door.
“Yeah?”
“You need me to make you something? Get some food in you?”
Food. Right. “Yeah. Thanks. I probably should have done that before I started drinking last night.” I probably would have, if I’d had enough money on me.
“Probably.” His voice is low and then he walks away.
I quickly finish up in the bathroom. I just want to apologise to him, over and over, because I acted really spoilt and I don’t even deserve for him to be this nice to me right now.
When I open the bathroom door, Dylan has turned the lights in the kitchen on, but nowhere else, keeping the light a little low. “I’m sorry about last night. Coming here drunk, keeping you up. I hope you won’t get into too much trouble at work.” I stumble to the table, where he’s left me two glasses of water. I should drink those.
“I don’t have work today anyway. Took today and tomorrow off. Like I do every year.” His voice is level, like he didn’t just dump a shitload of things on me at the same time.
He’s frying something in a pan, his back to me, so he can’t see my silent gasp, the stinging pain in my chest sudden, leaving me without air. ‘Like every year.’ Fuck.
Because he’s right, he does take these days off, just so he can take care of me and Tom. And now I feel even worse for crashing here.
Tonight is the night that Poppy disappeared and we didn’t find her until the next morning. Her official time of death is after midnight, so tomorrow is the real anniversary of her death, but today is the last day we saw her alive. Which is somehow even worse, always more painful, than the official day.
My brain goes into overdrive, everything hurting, darkness surrounding me.
I can’t do this. I can’t do today. I need them, and I’m the one who pushed everyone away. After the last week, I’m all alone, all because of my own actions, and I need them so much. Fuck.
“Here, eat.” Dylan slides a plate with scrambled eggs in front of me. “And make sure to drink water.” Then, he puts his hand on my shoulder, his touch heavy. “We’re here for you. I’m here. You’re not alone.” Then he’s off and I hear him go into the bathroom.
I try to eat the eggs, but the tears close up my throat and I can’t swallow anything down.
It hurts too much. Everything hurts too much. I can’t. The darkness is too overwhelming, drowning out everything else.
I stare at the plate, trying to make sense of it. I know I’m supposed to eat it, but I don’t know how.
It feels like nothing is worth it anymore.
These last days have been a mess, and the darkness in my head has been getting worse and worse. The band telling me ‘no’ and setting a hard boundary when I was spinning out of control didn’t help. I know they did the right thing, they had to do this, but it doesn’t mean my brain won’t run off with it and make an even bigger issue out if it than it is. It’s hard to control the darkness, the depression, when it’s got me this hard in its grip.
I’ll have to talk to the band, apologise, and maybe actually find a better way to deal with all of this than spinning out of control and then apologising all the time. It’s not healthy, not for any of us. And they deserve a guitarist and composer who can actually show up and be functional, not this mess I am right now.
I jolt as the door to the bathroom opens again and Dylan steps out, coming over to me, a towel around his hips.
“Hey. Try to eat, please?” His voice is soft, and when he crouches down to look at me, his eyes are sad. “Get some energy into your system.” Then he kisses the side of my head and walks off.
“Why?”
“Because it will make you feel better. It will clear your mind a little.” He’s so calm. After everything I told him while I was drunk, not that I’m really sober right now, he’s so calm. It’s frustrating.
I try another bite and I’m able to swallow it this time. But it feels strange going down, like my body is actively trying to fight it. I take a couple of swallows of the water, trying to get it down easier. After a couple more bites, I have to stop, every bite getting worse and worse.
Then I stand up and walk over to the couch, to my bag, digging through it, trying to make sense of the things I’ve got with me. Some underwear, my wallet, my phone, all the way at the bottom, but not much else. Which means that my guitar is probably still with the guys from the band and so is just about everything else I have... I’m not even sure that the underwear I’ve got in here are clean and not the ones I was supposed to wash.
I curse, my stomach rolling, letting me know I’m definitely not over the ‘might puke at any moment’ stage. If I don’t have my toothbrush and everything with me it means that my testosterone is also still over there. And I’m supposed to inject today... I never forget the damn things, always keeping it with my toothbrush, but if I don’t have that with me, then I also don’t have my T with me. Keeping it with my toothbrush generally is a good idea, unless I, of course, forget all of it at the same time, which rarely ever happens.
But then, how often do I end up the mess I was last night? That hasn’t happened before, ever. I don’t get that drunk, I don’t like it, but I somehow still did.
Fucking hell.
When stuff goes wrong, everything goes wrong.
As I look up, Dylan is standing in the middle of the room, looking at me, his eyes worried. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Forgot my T with the band. Like I can use that right now. Another thing that goes wrong.”
“Sorry.” He sits down next to me on the couch. “We can pick it up later, if you want to.”
“No. Not today.” I shove my bag away. “They’ve had enough of me for one week. I’m sure of that.”
“What then?” Dylan is still trying to take care of me and I just want to scream and hit things. Get this frustration out of me. I don’t know how to deal with it anymore. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. I feel like I’m about to burst.
“What’s the time?”
“About five in the morning.” His voice is careful and I feel him tense up.
Five in the morning. That means seventeen hours until the moment that I last saw Poppy. Seventeen hours.
“Don’t start counting.” Dylan’s voice is soft and sad and he takes a shuddering breath. “Please. Just... Not yet.”
“Seventeen hours,” I say the words out loud. “How can it be so close and so far away at the same time?”
He pulls me against him, holding me tight. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you have to go through this every year.”
I wrap my arms around him, holding onto him as if he’ll disappear if I don’t keep him with me. Every year, I remember everything we did that day, or that I did that day, that day I lost Poppy.
Five in the morning, Poppy had just woken up, she’d started the day by getting dinner ready, since we were al
l going to eat at their place that day, just because we felt like it and Tom and I thought that it would help both Poppy and Dylan, who was still in the middle of his alcoholism at the time. She was making a big pan of stew for dinner, so she’d started early, at five in the morning. While I was asleep, while we were all still asleep, she’d started preparing for dinner and then she went on to make breakfast for her family...
And nobody knew that this would be the final time she’d do that. Nobody, apart from maybe Poppy herself.
Did she know that this would be the final time, her final day, or was it as much a surprise to her as it was to the rest of us?
10
Mia
When I wake up, I want to start crying all over again. I cried myself to sleep last night. Jake slept downstairs, as he has done every night this week, while I sleep on my own in this room. He’s respected my wish for him to leave me alone. But it’s almost worse this way, when I know he’s in the same house, but I can’t touch him, because I told him to stay away from me. We’ve almost turned into housemates instead of whatever we were last weekend.
And it doesn’t get much better with the other guys, they all feel so far away, even when I can talk to them. Tom and Elly have been having dinner here every evening, but Dylan and Mal have stayed away. They’ve replied to messages, but just to answer questions, not to chat or just being social. I hate this distance between us.
I miss them. I miss all of them. But this was my own fault, my own stupid fault for even considering Mal’s offer of a kiss or Jake’s invitation to having some fun. I shouldn’t have done it. I really shouldn’t, because now I’ve broken everything.
I pull some clothes on and go down the stairs. The light in the kitchen is on and Jake is sitting at the table, a mug with coffee in front of him and he looks up when I’m standing in the doorway. He looks rough, like he hasn’t slept at all last night.
“Morning.” He stands up, turning the electric kettle on. “What would you like to eat?”
Shaking my head, I sit down on one of the chairs. “Nothing. Sorry.”
“No. It’s okay.” He waits for the water to boil, then makes me some tea and after putting the mug in front of me, he sits down too. “Did you get any sleep?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. I think I may have? You?”
“Some.” He takes a deep breath. “Do you know what the guys will be doing today?” Today, the day before the anniversary of Poppy’s death, a day almost more important the than the real day, at least to Mal, Tom and Dylan.
“No.”
Right then, there’s a knock at the front door, and Jake stands up, frowning a little.
“I’m sorry for coming over so early.” Tom’s voice reaches me and as I look behind me, he’s standing in the hallway, Elly in his arms. He looks lost, like he has no idea what he’s even doing, and tears spring in my eyes. “Morning.” He nods my way.
“Morning.” I almost get up, but Tom puts Elly in my lap. The little girl is awake, but she’s quiet, not her lively self. I guess even though she can’t remember her mum, this is still a bad day for her. “Hey, little girl.” I hold her closer, and she puts her head against my shoulder, snuggling in.
“Coffee?” Jake comes back into the kitchen.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Tom sits down on one of the chairs, looking at Elly and me, taking a deep breath. “Again, sorry to barge in. Just... The house felt too small and I had to get out.”
I nod. I can’t imagine how hard today must be for him. I wish I could take his pain away, but I have no idea how.
“I was just asking Mia, do you have like... a plan for today?” Jake gives Tom a mug with coffee and then starts putting breakfast foods on the table.
“Not really. It’s different every year. We usually visit Poppy’s grave at some point during the day. And we tend to meet their parents on the real day. But that’s about it. We don’t really have a set schedule. And this year... I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to Mal all week. He’s been ignoring my messages.”
“He replied to some of mine.” I take my mug and try the tea, but it’s still too hot, burning a spot on the tip of my tongue. I pull a face, of course, I could use that on top of everything else.
“Yeah. Dylan messaged me last night, said that Mal was at his place, crashing there for the night. But he didn’t say much more than that.” Tom doesn’t look very happy with that.
“You think something is up?” I look at him.
He nods. “Yeah. I don’t know what, but something’s wrong. It’s... It wasn’t a normal message from Dylan, but by then, Elly was already in bed and I couldn’t go over to his place to check on them. I didn’t want to wake Elly up or message any of the grandparents. Just... I figured I’d find out today anyway.” His eyes darken. “And if something had been really wrong, then he would have said something. He would have told me if it was really bad, so, I figured I could wait until today.”
“Daddy?” Elly moves in my lap, not hiding as much anymore but still frowning a little. “Tea?”
He smiles softly at her. “Do you want some tea?”
She nods and slides off my lap, going over to him. “I want special tea.”
“Special tea?” I raise an eyebrow at him, and Tom lets out a soft laugh.
“She wants it with lemon instead of milk. She feels it’s special.” He’s about to get up, but Jake stands up instead.
“I’ll do it. Just regular tea but with lemon, right?” He starts filling the kettle.
“Yeah. Thanks. Not too strong on the tea.” Tom leans back on his chair, then takes his phone and taps at the screen. “Dylan and Mal are awake. Dylan just replied to my message.” He lets out a slow breath.
I stand up now Elly is off my lap, and go over to him, wrapping my arms around him. I just need to feel him for a moment, maybe that will take away the feeling like he’s not really here, that I’m just seeing a ghost, not a real person. “Are they coming over?” After Tom’s words, I’m also kind of worried about Mal, and Dylan too.
“I’ll ask.” He wraps one arm around me and messages them behind my back, his face in the crook of my neck. He’s so nice and warm. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Me?” I pull back a little. “I’m worried about you. This is much harder for you than it is for me.”
He almost shrugs, and then looks up. “I’ve had time to mourn Poppy, this is not my first time. But for you...”
I give him a quick kiss on his cheek, stopping him from staying more, reminding me of why I’d like to not think about today. “I’ll be fine.” My voice almost breaks, but I’m able to keep it steady. I don’t want him to worry about me when I’m already worried about him... I’ll survive, but I’m not so sure about Tom and Mal...
When Dylan and Mal come over, they bring a lot of food with them. It seems that Dylan had stocked up his fridge at home, but that they decided that having breakfast here was a better idea.
Mal looks like crap, not just the way his eyes almost feel hollow, but his whole mood. It’s much worse than I expected it to be. Dylan looks like he has barely had any sleep, which seems to be a theme around here. But Mal looks like a truck drove over him, then dogs mauled him, before they dragged him through the deep pits of hell, it’s... It makes me want to hold him, give him some protection if I can, but he’s not letting anyone get close to him right now.
The kitchen is filled with people, the table stacked high with food, but nobody is talking, all with our own bad moods and we’re just picking at our breakfasts. It’s the total opposite of the breakfasts we had last weekend, it’s like we’re in a totally different world.
I stand up, I can’t stay here much longer, I have to get away from this mood. Then I go over to the back room, where I sit down in Grandma’s chair and pull one of her blankets over me.
I take a photo album from one of the first summers I spent here. I was so little, probably the first year of primary school, we were all so tiny. Poppy, Mal and I are all about the same age, jus
t a couple of months apart, while Dylan and Tom are a couple of years older. They were always our older brothers, always looking after us. Or, how much two guys their age could be looking after us...
A soft sound makes me look up and Mal is standing in the doorway, his eyes on me and then he goes over to the bed, curling up on it. “Your grandma loved making those books.” He’s almost smiling, though it doesn’t make him look much better, it makes the emptiness in his eyes even more obvious. “I think she still has some boxes with pictures that never ended up in a book.”
“She loved collecting all sorts of things.” I let out a slow breath. Her love for collecting things has become very obvious as I’m going through everything, so many silly things that she held onto, just because she loved them.
“She didn’t do it just to collect them.” He sits up a little. “She did it because memories fade, but these albums will always stay around, at least for a longer time than just our memories. So we can always look back and remember better times.” His voice breaks a little, and he wipes at his eyes. Then he lets out a groan. “These days, everything is on phones and...” He rubs his hand over his face, keeping himself hidden behind his hand, his voice muffled. “We’re missing so many pictures of Elly from when she’d just been born, pictures from Poppy’s point of view, because... Poppy’s phone...” His voice drops off.
I quickly get up, my chest hurting so much, and I wrap my arms around him tightly. Oh, fuck. Fucking hell...
Then, I realise why Mal isn’t letting anyone get too close to him. He stinks. He reeks of booze, even under his deodorant, I can smell it.
No way. No fucking way... He was at Dylan’s, like that? What the...? What happened? What happened to him, to them?
11
Tom
