Escaping the Edge

by H. M. Sholander

  “No, I wasn’t driving, I wasn’t in the car, and I wasn’t the vehicle that brought him to his death,” I say bluntly. “Although, it sure does feel like my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault, Avery. Why do you think it is?”

  “I wasn’t with him.” I put Grayson through so much while we were together. He would come pick me up from bars and carry me home no matter how late it was. He stuck with me through all the drinking. He even defended me to our friends and family. Denial. He was in denial. Then one day he saw it. He saw my problems. He begged me to get help on multiple occasions. I didn’t listen to him, so he ended it. And then his life was taken from him.

  Ryan grabs my hand and tugs my arm until I’m in a sitting position looking directly at him. The one place I currently don’t want to be. Under his watchful gaze. “It wasn’t your fault, Avery. Is that the reason your drinking escalated?

  “Yes. I drank myself into oblivion when he died, but when I pulled myself together, I decided to get help,” I say, looking him in the eye. I turn to absentmindedly gaze out at the water because seeing him stare back at me is too much for the conversation we’re having.

  Thank goodness he doesn’t ask any more questions because for the moment I couldn’t say anything else without breaking down. But, I’ve taken a step. A small, tiny baby step, but a step none the less.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and enjoy the wind floating across my face. The breeze coats my body, and goose bumps appear on my arms and legs. No matter how crazy it sounds, I can feel him here with me. In this place and in this moment, his presence floats around me. I remember the way his blue eyes shined and glistened every time he smiled at me, and the feel of his soft hair as I ran my hand through it as I so often did. His cologne, that was sweat and salty, fills my nose, and I inhale deeply to take in as much of him as I can. I remember the way it felt to be adored and cherished by him. He put me above everything else, and in the end that was his downfall.

  Is it wrong to remember Grayson when Ryan’s sitting next to me? Will I ever be able to move on from the man who held my heart for so long?

  I know I’ll find happiness again. If only, I don’t forget the man who lost his life while chained to mine.

  FIFTEEN

  I’ve been staring at my laptop for the last thirty minutes. The mouse hovers over the box where I enter Grayson’s password for his email account.

  Do I want to know what he wanted to say to me? Why didn’t he tell me when he was alive? Was he afraid of how I would react? Oh God, what if it’s bad? What if he decided he never wanted to be with me again? Or worse, what if he was trying to tell me he wanted to get back together?

  I know, it seems silly that I would think him wanting to get back together with me would be worse. If he had wanted to get back together, I would feel bad for not getting my life together sooner and if I had, he would be here. He wouldn’t have been in his car at that exact instant where his life was taken from him.

  Perhaps, he would be here, sitting on my couch with me while we watch movies and make each other laugh until we’re crying.

  But that’s me dreaming. I can’t keep thinking that he might be here with me because the reality is...he’s not. He won’t ever be here with me again. I won’t hear his laugh. I can’t ask him for advice, and I’ll never feel his touch.

  Ugh, enough of this.

  I won’t put myself through this torture anymore. I have to know.

  I angrily type on the keys of my laptop and wait for his email to open.

  I weed through his emails and find nothing of interest. Most of his email is full of junk. He had a habit of giving his email to anyone who asked for it. And when I say anyone, I mean those annoying cashiers who always want your email during check-out. Grayson was always a sucker and felt bad for saying no to them.

  Then I see it. He has an email sitting in his draft folder. My heartrate picks up speed as I click on the folder. There’s an email with the subject line of my name.

  I click on it expecting to find a typed letter that could possibly break me apart. Instead, I find a video.

  I hesitantly press play, and when I do, I see Grayson’s smiling face as he fills up my computer screen. My hand flies to cover my mouth, and my eyes water at the sight of him.

  His blue eyes shine from the light pouring into his bedroom window. His shaggy brown hair is hanging over his forehead, and I imagine running my hand through his soft hair and pushing it away from his face.

  A radiant smile breaks through, and it does me in. Silent tears run down my face as I see the man I loved for so long. I imagine he’s sitting in front of me. That I can smell him again. I inhale, and his scent fills my nose with something that’s a little sweat and everything that’s him.

  My fingers drift over his arm on the screen and feel his rough skin and the hairs that line his forearm. I get so lost in the dream of him actually being in front of me that when I hear his voice, my eyes widen in disbelief.

  “My Avery,” he says sweetly. “One day, I’ll work up the courage to send this to you.” He fidgets with his hands and stares past the camera. “It’s been six months since we’ve been apart. Not a moment has gone by that I haven’t missed having you in my life or seeing your beautiful face everyday.”

  I try to stop the tears running down my face, but it’s useless. They flow of their own accord, streaking my face with mascara.

  He heavily sighs while running his hands through his hair, but it instantly falls back in his face. “I want to be with you; I really do. It pains me not to be able to see you or hear your voice. But, I can’t be selfish. We broke up for a reason, and it’s because I love you. I love you more than you can ever possibly imagine. I would lay my life down for you because you are everything I want and more.”

  I’m officially balling. I’m balling like a freaking baby. Why did I think this was a good idea? It’s tearing my heart in half. No, that doesn’t even come close to what’s happening. It’s like someone stuck their hand inside my chest and pulled my heart out. They squeeze it until there’s no blood left running through it, and then, they throw it on the ground and stomp on it. As if that isn’t enough, they set it on fire for good measure, and yet, I’m still alive in a hell hole with my heart on the ground at my feet.

  “That’s why I have to let you go. It’s because I love you so much that I’m setting you free.” He flicks away a few tears and looks into the depth of my soul with glassy blue eyes. “I know you can get better without me. I’m the reason you can’t get over your addiction. I hover and pressure you to change, but I want you to know I only do it out of love for you. I know now I’m not enough. I’m not enough to make you want to change, and I can’t force you. You have to want to change all on your own.” He clears his throat and hangs his head.

  I stare at the top of his head while he sits silently. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. He thought he wasn’t good enough for me. He thought I wouldn’t change for him, but that’s what I’m doing. I’m doing it all for him. To honor him. How could he ever think that my addiction was his problem? It was my burden to bear, not his. Although, I’m not so naïve as to think it didn’t affect him. Obviously, the weight of my actions took more of a toll on him than I knew. How could I have been so self-centered?

  He looks up, even more distraught than before. “You’re my best friend Avery, and you always will be. You will always be in my life no matter how hard it is for me not to be with you. But…I have to let you go. I have to let you go so you can soar on your own. I won’t hold you back. Not anymore. We have to let go…of each other. I don’t know when I’ll be able to look at your beautiful face and not rush to your side wanting to make everything better. Until that day comes, I can’t see you, and that alone pains me more than you will ever know. But I promise, I will always be here for you…through it all. No matter what.” He reaches behind him and pulls out a red sunflower, placing it on his desk. “I love you, Avery, always.”

  The last
thing I see before the video cuts out is that fucking red sunflower sitting there mocking me.

  I slam my laptop closed and throw it on the floor. I curl up in a ball and cry for what feels like hours.

  When I’ve cried all that I can, I don’t feel any better. I feel heartache and loss. I want to feel nothing. I want it all to stop. I want the pain to stop tearing my insides apart. The worst feeling of all is the hatred I have for him in this moment. Why would he want me to see that? Why would that be his dying wish, so to speak? Why would he want to put me through that after I’ve already lost him? My best friend…gone. But wait, that’s not enough, let’s see how much more pain we can cause Avery before she completely loses it.

  “Well, I’ve lost it!” I scream to the ceiling. “Are you happy? You’ve broken me! You broke me, Grayson!” I scream one last time.

  I can’t do this. I can’t feel this. I need it to stop.

  I shove my feet into my sandals and grab my keys off the floor. I throw the front door open and slam it shut. I run down the stairs and feel them shake under my weight. If only they would give out and put me out of my fucking misery.

  After getting in my car, thank God I have it back after the accident and it wasn’t totaled like I thought it would be, I drive to the closest bar I can find.

  I know this is a bad idea. All of my hard work will be for nothing. I’ll have to start over and endure withdrawals all over.

  I don’t care. Screw it.

  “Can I have a shot of tequila?” I ask the bartender as I sit my ass on the wooden stool. I bounce my foot up and down waiting anxiously for the one thing that can help me.

  The shot is placed in front of me, and I don’t hesitate for one second. I grab the shot and down it.

  “Another,” I say to the bartender.

  After my third shot, I feel it flowing through my veins. The alcohol is working its magic. Pulling me into a blissful state of mind.

  I begin to feel absolutely nothing. The pain starts to fade away, and all reasoning flies out the window. It’s amazing to not fight what my body wants—to just give in. The addiction takes over my mind and fuels all of my decisions.

  Three shots of tequila, two beers, and four girly drinks later, I couldn’t feel better. I sway side to side to the music flowing through the speakers and stupidly fall off the barstool.

  “Ahhh!” I scream and then break out into a hysterical laughter.

  I slowly stand using the bar to help me get to my feet and my butt back on the bar stool.

  Once I’m safely sitting, my cell phone begins ringing from my back pocket. I groan, not wanting anyone to damper my mood. After I fish it out, I notice Ryan’s name flashing on the screen, and inappropriate thoughts fly through my mind. I could definitely have fun with him.

  “Heeeeyyyy Ry-an,” I slur.

  “Avery? Where are you?”

  “Umm, I don’t know, but…I am having so much fun.” I slam my hand on the bar, catching myself before I fall again. “Mmm, Ryan. Can you...”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “What? Me? No way?”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Ugh, whatever Ryan.” I roll my eyes making myself slightly dizzy.

  “Miss? I need you to give me your keys,” the bartender says sternly.

  “No. You can’t make me,” I say stubbornly.

  “You’ve had too much to drink. You’re not driving. Give me your keys,” he demands.

  “Give him your damn keys, Avery!” Ryan shouts.

  “No!” I yell at both of them.

  The bartender snatches my phone from my hands, and I want nothing more than to claw his eyes out.

  “Hey, that’s mine. Give it back!”

  He speaks indistinctively to Ryan. Once he hangs up, he shoves my phone in his pocket.

  “Give me my phone.” I pound my fist on the bar.

  “You can have it back when your boyfriend gets here,” he says, crossing his arms across his chest.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend. I killed him,” I announce even though the bartender is no longer paying attention to me.

  I lay my head on the bar since the bartender will no longer supply me with drinks, so I sit and stew in the misery that’s beginning to bubble to the surface. The misery I was trying to outrun.

  I must pass out at some point because before I know it, there’s something uncomfortable jabbing into my stomach, and a bouncing motion is making me nauseas.

  I slowly force open my eyes and blink several times until my vision becomes clear.

  I’m being carried. Someone is carrying me away. Away from my happy place, but also away from people. Wait. Who the hell is carrying me?

  “Put me down!” I yell as I kick my feet and bang on the strangers back hoping they’ll put me down but also wanting to attract attention to myself.

  Maybe someone will save me. Am I worth saving? At this point, I don’t think I am. If Grayson, who knew me for over five years couldn’t stay with me, who could? I don’t even want to save myself. Which would explain me ruining two months of sobriety to drown myself in alcohol.

  “Calm down, Avery. I’m taking you home,” Ryan grunts as my knee lands in his stomach.

  I relax when I hear the sound of his voice. “Will you at least put me down? I can walk, you know.”

  “Can you?”

  “I’m fine. Put me down.”

  Ryan slowly slides me down from his shoulder, which is a relief because the pain from my stomach is gone without his shoulder digging into it. Besides that, it was nice having my body slide down his.

  He places his hands on my hips to keep me steady while I find my balance. I glace up at him through the haze of the alcohol and see a man who came to save me. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into with me, but right now, I want the comfort of another person. As bad as it might sound, I want to prove to myself that I’ve moved on from Grayson.

  But that’s a lie. I haven’t, but it doesn’t mean I can’t try.

  I run my hand over his cheek that’s covered in stubble and let it wander to his hair. He’s staring at me as if he doesn’t know what to do. He appears conflicted. I mean I am drunk, but it’s not as if we haven’t kissed before.

  I angle my head up and stand on my tiptoes. I lick my lips and place a slow kiss on his mouth. He’s hesitant at first, but he gives in and kisses me back. Just as soon as he’s kissing me, he jerks away and holds me at arms length.

  “You’re drunk. Let’s go home.” He takes my hand and leads me to his car.

  I know he only grabs my hand to make sure I’m following him because he becomes cold and distant so quickly that it causes me whiplash.

  Just as fast as Ryan’s actions, the world goes black before I can even blink.

  Opening my eyes is not an easy feat. I pry them open and am greeted with blurry vision. I blink several times and rub my eyes getting rid of that disgusting crust that forms while sleeping.

  I attempt to lift my head, but the whole room spins automatically, making me want to throw up everything in my stomach, which isn’t much, considering I drank on an empty stomach.

  I drank.

  I can’t believe I drank.

  I ruined everything. I ruined my hard work. I have to start all over.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  I silently cry with my eyes closed. I take in the disappointment that I'm feeling in myself. I grieve over my utter failure.

  That’s what I am. A failure.

  I never do anything right.

  Then it dawns on me. Even worse than being a failure is not having any clue where I am.

  I pull myself together enough to open my eyes and see what kind of situation I’ve gotten myself into this time.

  I hope like hell I’m not lying next to a junkie with a needle sticking out of his arm, lines of coke on a dresser, or a bag of pills within reach.

  Slowly, I lift my head and take in my surroundings. I’m under a hunter green comforter, and light is streaming in f
rom the window behind my head. The sunlight helps me see the white walls and a closet across from me, sparsely filled with clothes.

  The good news is I don’t see any drugs or alcohol. The bad news is I have no idea where I am.

  Panic sets in as the bedroom door opens. My heart pounds as if it’s trying to escape my chest. I scoot back as far as I can on the bed, which I know is completely ridiculous. No matter how far back I am on the bed, they will still be able to get to me.

  “Avery?”

  My whole body sags in relief. Ryan. Of course, I’m in Ryan’s room. Now that I think about it, he is the one who had to drag me out of the bar. Oh my gosh. He had to drag me out of a bar like a two-year-old being dragged out of a toy store by their parents.

  I want to escape for a whole different reason when my memories surface. I throw the comforter over my head and slide down into the bed as far as I possibly can.

  “I know you’re up, Avery.” His steps move into the room, and eventually, the bed dips from his weight. The covers shielding me from view disappear, all I see is the disappointment on his face. “No time to lollygag around. Get up.” He stands from the bed and throws the comforter onto the floor, leaving me vulnerable to his stare.

  I lay on the bed in a ball, refusing to get up. Mostly because I don’t have the energy to pick myself up off the bed.

  “Avery, get up,” he says calmly but with authority in his voice.

  Still, I don’t move.

  “You leave me no choice.”

  Ryan scoops me into his arms so quickly I don’t have a chance to protest until I’m already in his arms.

  “Put me down!” I yell.

  “Don’t worry, I will.”

  He kicks a door open and flicks on a light switch that reveals a bathroom. He places me in the tub and turns on the showerhead.

  “What the hell?!” I scream as freezing water pours over my whole body while I’m still wearing my clothes. Fucking fantastic. Not only am I hung-over, but my clothes are soaked, and I’m fucking freezing.

  I jump out of the water, which is a horrible idea. The room spins in a circle like a rotating tunnel they have at fun houses. That damn tunnel that makes you feel like you’re about to fall off the bridge because the tunnel’s spinning in such a way that makes you believe you aren’t walking in a straight line. Yeah, that’s exactly how I feel.