Escaping the Edge

by H. M. Sholander

  I weakly smile at the thought of the red sunflowers Grayson would always bring me. He would never tell me where he got them, but I loved every time he showed up with them. They were the most gorgeous red. Not a bright red but a crimson red. Anytime we were fighting, he would show up with red sunflowers, and it would be as if a magic switch was flipped, and everything was right in the world again.

  I inhale the salty air and close my eyes. The moment Grayson left the earth, I lost a piece of myself, but every day I’m getting closer to rediscovering the person I used to be.

  ELEVEN

  “What are you doing down here?” Ryan asks, sitting next to me.

  “Just thinking,” I answer, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

  I notice he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. I feel bad for guys. They always have to wear nice pants and long sleeve shirts to dress up. Females have many other options, and for that, I’m grateful.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” he states.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  We sit in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t be more grateful he came with me this weekend. Otherwise, I’d be spending the night and tomorrow alone.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Ryan asks abruptly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “About whatever drove you down here by yourself or what happened in the kitchen earlier today,” he says gently as if he’s worried he'll scare me away. I look away, avoiding his gaze. “You haven’t told me anything about why you used. All I know is what you said in the meeting. I don’t want to push you, but if you want to move on and work through this, you’re going to have to open up to me.”

  I ponder for a minute about what I should tell him. I’m not ready to tell him about Grayson. Although, I could keep withholding my secrets, but I know I need to talk if I want to overcome my addiction. I use the word “overcome” lightly because I know no one truly ever overcomes addiction. You simply learn to live with it.

  “Avery.” Ryan places his hand on my knee, urging me to say something…anything.

  “I don’t know when it started to be a problem. The drinking began when I was sixteen. I would drink with my friends at parties like all typical teenagers. It was harmless enough. I never got drunk until I was in college. My studies didn’t overwhelm me. My classes weren’t even that difficult, but I began drinking and partying more than anything else. I was a social butterfly who wanted to be friends with everyone. I never had an issue with my grades or completing assignments, so I never thought I had a problem. I continued on this track for the next four years of college until it became a constant need. I needed a drink every day. I didn’t have to get drunk, but there was either a glass of wine or bottle of beer in my hand.

  “The day I got my first job out of college, I was so excited. I was going to be able to provide an amazing life for myself and do whatever I wanted. However, my job began sucking the life out of me. I worked over twelve hours a day, five days a week. On the weekends, I drank from the time I woke up until I fell face first on the floor. I told myself that I worked hard and deserved to have fun on my days off, but thinking back, I know it was just an excuse.” I think back on all the times Grayson told me I had a problem, but I never once believed him. Isn't that laughable? I should have believed him. I should have done a lot of things where he was concerened.

  “When did the drugs start?” Ryan wonders, pulling me out of my own head.

  “A year ago. My job took over my life. I was stressed when I was there, and even when I wasn’t. I needed something that was going to make it stop. The drinking didn’t help me forget, and all I wanted to do was to forget. So, I took a turn for the worst to make it all disappear,” I say, ashamed as sand drifts through my fingers.

  “Why did you take the first drink when you were sixteen?”

  I slant my eyes to him, confused. “I told you I drank with my friends.”

  “Did they pressure you? Not all sixteen year olds drink, Avery. I didn’t drink until I was in college, so what made you take that first drink?”

  I ponder for a second, trying to figure out what he wants my answer to be. I’m not sure what he wants me to tell him. The truth I know, but I don’t know what the truth is.

  He lets out a sigh and says, “You think about it.” He stands and holds out his hand for me to take. “It’s late. Let’s go to the hotel.”

  I take his hand and rise to my feet. I dust the sand off my hands, and we make our way to my car.

  Ryan drives us to the hotel, and I stare out my window the whole time watching the lights pass by in a blur. I think about what he asked me before we left the beach. I suppose I do know the answer to his question. I took that first drink because I thought it was normal. Which was completely stupid. Why didn't I learn anything from my parents’ actions?

  Really, it was easy for me to make the transition into a drinker. When I took my first drink, I never imagined things would turn out this way. I never thought I would turn out just like my parents. I suppose it’s all come full-circle. But, I’m getting help and working through this, so I don’t affect any more lives worse than I already have.

  I don’t say a word the whole drive. This entire day has me physically and mentally exhausted. I need a break from his questions. From him. I spent most of the day missing Grayson and craving a drink stronger than water to slip through my lips, but I also fantasied about a life with Ryan. As more than friends. I can blame Emily for planting those thoughts in my head. Every time I thought of him as more than a friend tonight, I chastised myself. I sure as hell can’t think about how amazing we would be together. It’s just a fantasy. A fantasy that will never come true. I need to live in reality, no matter how dark it is.

  Ryan throws his bag on the carpet of the hotel room. I grab a change of clothes and head straight to the bathroom to change. I wash my face and stare at myself in the mirror. I wanted this trip to be fun, but it seems the world was against me. Maybe it's just me who’s the downer. I hope that tomorrow I can turn it around for the both of us.

  I step out of the bathroom and see Ryan stretched out on the couch in black gym shorts and a red t-shirt. I fall onto the bed, emotionally exhausted.

  “Man, I’m ready for bed,” I say, yawning.

  “Me, too.” Ryan rises from the couch to turn off the light.

  I half expect for the other side of the bed to dip from the weight of his body. Instead, I hear the couch creak.

  “What are you doing?” I question.

  “I thought we were going to bed.”

  “Yeah, so why are you on the couch?” he doesn’t respond. Only silence greets the room. “There's plenty of room on the bed. Get off the couch and come over here.”

  “I can sleep on the couch. I’ll be fine.” He moves around, causing more creaking to come from the rickety couch.

  “I won’t be able to sleep with you constantly moving around over there. Now get over here, or I will come over there and make you.”

  He lets out a sigh, but I hear his feet shuffle against the carpet. The bed dips beside me as he lies down. He slides under the covers and fidgets until he's comfortable. The bed is so big that two people could lie in the space between us.

  As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I turn to my side to see Ryan’s profile. “Ryan,” I say softly just in case by some miracle he's already sleep.

  “Yeah.”

  “Thank you.” I slide my hand under my pillow to prop my head up slightly.

  He turns to face me. “For what?”

  “For coming with me. I know it couldn’t have been easy to go to a wedding where you don’t know anyone.” I pause, thinking about how I left him to fend for himself most of the day. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around more.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I had fun. I know you had to tend to the bride today. I liked getting to see this part of your life.”

  I let my eyes travel the length of his face, studying him. His hazel eyes glimmer
in the dark, and his hair falls across his forehead. His right arm rests lightly across his stomach, moving up and down with his breathing. The air conditioner kicks on in the room, and the scent of his woodsy cologne mixed with a hint of spice and the ocean greets my nose. I inhale deeply, feeling comforted having him next to me.

  I pull myself out of the trance he put me under and say, “I was thinking about what you asked me earlier. About why I took that first drink.” He doesn’t say anything, giving me the time I need to give him a piece of my past. He does, however, give me his full attention. “I didn’t see anything wrong with drinking because it was all I’d ever known. I saw it every day and thought it was what adults did. On the other hand, I also wanted to fit in with my friends. They were all drinking, so I figured what the hell. I know that’s no excuse because neither my parents nor my so-called friends forced me to turn into a person who needed alcohol to breathe.”

  “When did the need to have it all the time start?” he asks, turning his head to see me.

  I stare at him, puzzled. “I told you it got worse when I started my job.”

  “No other reason?” he questions as if he doesn’t believe me.

  I don’t know how he always knows there’s more than what I’m telling him, but I both hate it and am grateful for it. I’m very careful of my next words. “I was in a relationship, too. He hated that I never had time for him because of the demand of my job. We always fought about my priorities and him not being one of them anymore. It wasn’t his fault that I had no time management. It was mine." My voice drifts off barely above a whisper, "It was all my fault.” I don't think there will ever be a day when I don't blame myself. If that day does come, it would be a freaking miracle.

  A few tears slip down my cheek, and Ryan reaches across the bed and gently wipes them away.

  “I’m not going to pretend to know what happened between you and this guy, but I do know one thing. It takes two people to ruin a relationship...not one.”

  Maybe one day I’ll believe that, but today is not that day.

  “Avery, what are you doing?”

  “Grayson, is that you?” I reach out to touch him, but he’s too far away, and my feet are rooted in place.

  “What are you doing with him?” he asks, appearing hurt.

  I try to move my feet, but they won’t budge. All I want to do is hold him in my arms. “Ryan? He’s helping me. I’m getting better for you. Just like I promised.”

  “Then why are you in the same bed as him? How is that helping you? You’re forgetting me, aren’t you?” he takes a step back, and I try with all my might to run toward him. But I’m still standing in the same spot.

  “I’m not. I could never forget you. Nothing's happening with him. I’m yours, always.”

  “I was going to show up at your door after I ate with my parents that night. I wanted you back. I couldn’t live without you another day, but I can see now you didn’t care as much as I did.”

  “That’s not true. I love you.” He starts to fade away, and my feet finally tear away from the spot they’ve been glued to. “Grayson! Grayson!” I yell, hoping to convince him to stay or take me with him.

  The moment my fingers are an inch from his face, he vaporizes into the wind as if he was never there at all. I fall to the ground on my knees, screaming for him to come back to me.

  My eyes shoot open, and I gasp for air. I glance over at Ryan and see him sleeping soundly at the edge of the bed while I’m in the middle. I scoot over to my side, putting as much distance between us as possible.

  I don’t have dreams about Grayson every night anymore, but when I do, they haunt me for days.

  I toss and turn for a few minutes before I throw the covers off me. I tip toe to the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind me and sit in the dark on the lid of the toilet seat. I place my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my hands as I cry. How can one person have so many tears? Apparently, I have an endless supply of them.

  The knob on the bathroom door turns, and Ryan appears in the doorway. He doesn’t say a word or ask why I’m crying. He simply takes my hand in his and lifts me to my feet. He guides me out of the bathroom and through the hotel room until he has me back in bed. He lies in bed and scoots to the middle. He brings me to him and holds me against his chest with both of his arms wrapped around me. I’m stiff at first because the dream of Grayson is still haunting my thoughts, but then I remember, he’s not here. While I wish he was the one consoling me, I know he never will again. I relax into Ryan and cry until I’m too exhausted to cry anymore.

  I wake up with the feeling of something hard and warm against my body. I open my eyes and see Ryan lying under me. Our legs are tangled together, and he has a death grip on me. Embarrassment washes over me from the way I broke down last night. I slowly untangle my legs from his and try to pry his death grip off me without waking him. Of course, I fail.

  “Where are you going?” he mumbles.

  I think fast. “To the bathroom.” Really, I need to put space between us. Pronto.

  Last night, it was different because he was helping me. Right now, there’s nothing to help, and I’m afraid the line between us will become blurred if I get too comfortable with him. If I’m being honest with myself, it already is.

  I run to the bathroom staying long enough to make it seem as if I actually needed to go to the bathroom. After a couple of minutes, I emerge and order room service because I’m starving. Being lost in my own head last night had me forgetting to eat the amazing dinner Emily had at her reception.

  “Food will be here soon,” I announce to Ryan who is still in bed.

  “Great.” He sits up and the sheet falls to his waist.

  His shirt sticks to the top of his chest, and I have a hard time looking away. He’s not covered in bulky muscles, but I can make out a six-pack from the small glimpse I get. All too soon, he unbunches his shirt, and it falls back into place.

  He looks me up and down before bringing his eyes back to rest on my face. “How are you doing this morning?”

  I clear my throat. “Fine. Great.” I glance around the room, avoiding his gaze.

  “Do you want to tal…”

  “What do you want to do today?” I interrupt him, hoping he won’t bring it up. “We can go to Emily’s and hang out at the beach or pool. I have a key to her house. She won’t mind if we make ourselves at home.” I amble over to my suitcase and dig out my bathing suit along with a tank top and shorts to wear over it. I keep on rambling, “We don’t have to leave until later today, so we can do whatever you want. We do have to be out of the hotel in two hours, though.”

  He shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in me, but he lets it go. “We can do whatever you want.”

  “Emily’s it is. I’ll go change.” I run to the bathroom and throw on my bathing suit. Before I can finish, there’s a knock at the front door.

  “Room service,” a muffled voice says.

  I throw open the bathroom door and rush to grab the front door. I grab the food and hand the guy a tip. When he’s gone, I place the food on the table by the couch, as the door slams shut behind me.

  “I could have…” Ryan trails off, and I notice him blatantly looking me up and down, studying every inch of my body. I self-consciously cross my arms across my chest and fidget on my feet. He clears his throat, “I could have gotten that.”

  “No worries.” I hurriedly walk off to the bathroom, slip my tank top over my head, and step into my shorts before heading out to satisfy my stomach.

  We throw all of our belongings in our bags as the tension in the room grows between us. The silence is only making things worse, at least for me.

  “How can you hate oranges, but love the color orange?” I question, pulling my phone charger out of the wall.

  “Oranges are way too sweat. Plus, I hate the texture of them. They’re squishy and weird.” He ambles into the bathroom and reemerges with my shampoo. I smile in thank you.

  “Squishy an
d weird?” I say, trying not to laugh. Though, it is proving difficult.

  “Well, yeah. They are. Isn’t there a food you dislike for a reason that only makes sense to you?” He looks at me in a way that says he knows I do. A look of confidence. It shines out of him, and I love it. “Well?”

  Okay, yeah, we all have quirks, even me. “I don’t like spinach. It’s slimy.”

  “Only when it’s cooked,” he counters.

  “I don’t like eating things that look like plants either.” I mean come on, it’s a freaking leaf. I love playing in leaves, but eating them is a different story.

  Ryan cracks up laughing, and I do the same. Yeah, we’re weird, but at least we can be weird together.

  We collect ourselves enough to make it to my car and throw our bags in the trunk. We blast the radio before pulling out of the parking lot, making the drive to Emily’s house. The whole car ride is spent with us singing at the top of our lungs, terribly might I add. But it doesn’t matter because we’re both happy and free. This moment, this day, a time where we both feel alive. Everything fades away. Problems. Addiction. Fear. Guilt. All of it is gone, and even if the moment is fleeting, I’ll cherish it forever because it happened with an unexpected friend.

  I step through the front door and throw my change of clothes on the couch. I skip to the sliding glass doors, heading for the pool. I’ll venture out to the beach later, but I’d rather lounge around by the pool to read without worrying about sand ruining my e-reader. I collapse in a chair perfect for lounging in across from the sparkling blue pool, directly in the sunlight.

  Ryan drags a chair next to where I’m sitting and plops his butt in it. “So, this is what we’re doing?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I’m not much of a pool or beach guy. Unless I’m swimming. Tanning is boring,” he says matter of factly.