Escaping the Edge

by H. M. Sholander

  “I can’t,” I whisper.

  Ryan takes a tentative step toward me. “Why?”

  I stare at the ground, avoiding his face. “Because you aren’t him. I need him to get through this.” Then the damn breaks. Tears fall down my face. “I was doing this for him, but he broke me. He’s dead, and he broke me in a matter of minutes. I wish he was here every day, but then he ripped my heart out and stomped on it before I had a chance to protest. You can’t fix me because you aren’t him. No one ever will be.”

  “Dump out the alcohol, Avery, and I promise you will get through this.”

  “No! It’s the only thing that can help. It will numb my pain, and I can pretend he’s here and not you. You can’t do anything. You can’t replace him!” I yell with nothing but anger and pain in my voice.

  Hurt floods Ryan’s face. I don’t feel bad. I don’t feel anything for him. All I can feel is a gut-wrenching pain that needs to be numbed all over again.

  “You need help, Avery. Not only with your addiction to alcohol and drugs, but with the grief you carry over the guy you lost. I want to help you, but you obviously don’t want it.” He turns toward the door and opens it. Before he steps out, he looks back at me with a heartbreaking expression. “I really like you, Avery, but I can’t be your replacement for Grayson. You have to let go before it tears you apart. From the looks of it, you’re not far off.”

  The door closes behind him and silence surrounds me.

  Screw him.

  I spot an unopened bottle of vodka and snatch it off the kitchen counter. Six shots later and my body is wonderfully numb all over again. This is exactly where I want to be.

  “Avery. Avery, wake up.”

  Light shaking pulls me out of my sleeping state. Why does everyone feel the need to wake me up when I’m sleeping dead to the world? I mean, I’m sleeping for a reason. Assholes.

  “What?” I grumble.

  “You need to get up,” a female voice says sternly. “Get your ass off this couch. It’s time to get your shit together.”

  “Get away.” I aimlessly wave my hand around trying to push Emily.

  I believe I’ve succeeded in getting rid of her when she’s no longer harassing me. She bangs around in the kitchen, but I relax into the couch, ignoring her efforts to get me up.

  Water douses my head. I jump off the couch and scream, “What the fuck!”

  “Oh good, you’re up.” Emily smiles mischievously.

  “What is your problem?” I ask furiously with my hands fisted at my sides as my wet hair drips all over the floor.

  “My problem?” she asks offended, “My problem?” she repeats like a broken record.

  “Did I stutter?!” I yell.

  “You’ve been off the grid for two weeks. I’ve been worried sick about you. I called Ryan to see if he had been able to get ahold of you.”

  “You talked to Ryan? How the hell did you even get his number?” I fume.

  “He told me about the alcohol,” she says, blatantly disregarding my questions. “And from the way you’re acting, I know you have been doing more than that.”

  “You don’t know anything.”

  “I know you’ve fallen off the edge, Avery. You are so far gone you can’t even see it.” She walks around my living room, picking up empty liquor bottles and small plastic bags placing them all on the kitchen counter. “Look at this, Avery. How long did it take you to go through five bottles of liquor and six plastic bags? Three days?”

  She pauses looking at me for an answer. The problem is I don’t know the answer. I don’t even know what day of the week it is.

  “If you can’t tell me the answer that should tell you everything you need to know.” She appears disappointed as she inspects me head to toe. “What sent you over the edge? What made you ruin all your progress?” she wonders.

  “I’m going to shower.” I ignore her as I walk past her to the bathroom.

  I strip down and step into the shower where the scalding water beats on my body. The water turns my body a bright shade of red as it punishes me. I take the beating willingly because it’s better than the one Emily was giving me.

  I turn the water off when it turns cold, causing me to shiver. I wrap myself in a towel and head to my bedroom. As soon as I step into my room, I notice Emily perched on my bed. She has picked up my dirty clothes that were scattered all over the floor and made my bed. It’s probably the first time my bed has been made in four months. Man, I’ve gotten lazy.

  “Tell me what happened,” Emily says softly, not wanting to scare me off.

  “I don’t have to tell you. See for yourself.” I point to my laptop that she placed on my dresser. I sit down on my bed, without bothering to get dressed.

  All she has to do is open the laptop and press play. I’ve watched the damn thing so many times I can recite it by heart.

  Thinking back to the first time I watched that godforsaken video, I may have overreacted. Okay, I overreacted a lot.

  The problem is I thought he wanted us to get back together and live happily ever after like in a stupid fairytale. Real life isn’t a fairytale. Real life is a rollercoaster that at any moment without any warning can throw you down until you feel like you’re about to hit rock bottom. Well, I have definitely hit rock bottom. The video threw me for a loop that I wasn’t expecting. It derailed me into the unknown. All I can do now is get back on that stupid rollercoaster and hope like hell it doesn’t throw me off again.

  It shouldn’t have upset me as much as it did, simply because I was starting to move on. I had already concluded Grayson wasn’t the one I was destined to be with.

  Destiny? Do I believe in destiny or fate? I think we all pave our own way in this life. I believe we make decisions based on what we believe. I don’t think our whole lives are mapped out for us. We make our own choices. Because if destiny was real, I was handed the short straw in this life. And, it’s a fucking bitch.

  No, I believe I made all of my choices. I chose to be an alcoholic. I chose to love Grayson. I chose to break down when Grayson told me an ugly truth I already knew. And that was the worst decision I’ve made yet.

  “I understand why this video hurt you, Avery.” She sits down on the bed next to me and wraps her arm around my bare shoulder. “You know he didn’t mean to hurt you. He only wanted you to get help. He was letting you go because he loved you. You meant the world to him. I watched you both love each other for five years. He loved you unconditionally.” She places her free hand on my chin and turns my face to hers. “But, he thought he wasn’t enough for you to stop your addiction. He knows you loved him, Avery, but you have to admit he wasn’t enough for you.”

  A small tear slides down my face because I know everything she said is true. Although we loved each other, we didn’t help each other grow. We held each other back and lived our lives in a stagnant place neither of us could get out of.

  “You have to let go. I’m not telling you to forget Grayson, but you have to let go.” She wipes my tears away and hugs me tightly. “Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting,” she whispers in my ear.

  After a grueling night of sleep, I wake up with a new attitude. Which is odd, since, I slept like shit. One thing is for sure, I had a lot of time to think about my life. There’s so much I want to change. To grow as a person. I’ll become an improved version of myself. All on my own. Because for once, I need to depend on myself and no one else.

  I let Em sleep since she had to deal with me tossing and turning all night. I’m lucky to have her in my life. If it wasn’t for her, it would’ve taken me a lot longer to see the light. To see what I was doing to my life and the people around me.

  I throw away all the empty liquor bottles and plastic bags first. Then I gather all the other bottles of alcohol laying around my apartment along with the three full bags of cocaine. I dump all the alcohol down the sink drain and throw the bottles away. The cocaine is flushed down the toilet.

  With my addiction out of sight, I breathe a sigh
of relief knowing I am strong enough to get through this. I am strong enough to get through anything.

  SEVENTEEN

  After begging for hours, I convinced Emily to go home. She has been here for two weeks, and it’s time for her to go. She has a life to get back to. A husband who misses her more than a clean pair of pants. I assured her a thousand times that I was fine. While that might not be true at the moment, it will be. I know it will.

  I’m taking time off from work to get my life in order. Let’s be honest, if I hadn’t begged and pleaded for the time off, I would have gotten fired. I almost wonder why they haven’t laid me off yet, but I’m grateful they haven’t put much thought into it. I need a source of income, especially because I blew threw a huge chunk of my savings while I was “incapacitated.”

  The blinding light of the sun shining through my living room sliding glass door calls for me to enjoy the picturesque day. I throw on a pair of black yoga pants and an old gray t-shirt. I push my feet into my blue running shoes without untying the laces.

  As I jog down the stairs, they vibrate, and the railing shakes beneath my hand. I jump off the last step with a small pep in my step. I briefly consider asking Ryan to join me, but I can’t face him…not yet.

  He saw the ugliest side of me. I’m too mortified to see the look of pity slip across his face. Drunk, I could handle anything he threw at me. I didn’t care if he thought I was the weakest and most pitiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. Sober, I have a totally different opinion. Because as much as I hate to admit it, I care what he thinks about me.

  Closing my eyes, I remember the way he made me feel. I was safe when his presence surrounded me. Every worry left my body, and addiction seemed like a thing of the past. Then there are the feelings I tried to push away. The ones I’m still trying to deny. I was free and happy when we were together. I was invincible, but my heart wasn’t. My heart is not ready for the destruction Ryan could inflict. It would be an all-consuming pain that would eat me from the inside out. As much as I hate to say it, the pain would be worse than what I felt when I lost Grayson. With Grayson, I was destroyed into a million shattered pieces. All the pieces weren’t in the same place but scattered around all the places our happiest memories occurred.

  Bits are all over the beach shoreline where we strolled by the ocean enjoying the breeze that blew through our hair. We spent many days relaxing side by side in the sand. It was just the two of us on the beach in our own bubble, surrounded by hundreds of people.

  Fragments reside at my apartment and his. Cuddling on the couch, we watched movies while eating popcorn. I would talk through the whole movie, and Grayson would never complain. He would only hold me tighter to his side, and I nuzzled even closer.

  Every place he gave me a red sunflower I lost a part of myself. It’s safe to say I’m scattered wide and far. I never thought I would collect myself and become whole all over again.

  Ryan makes me believe differently. He can put me back together. Not in a way where the pieces don’t match up and the edges are rough. No, he can put me back together in a way that I will appear perfect. To the naked eye, no one would know the struggles I’ve faced. Only my heart would know that pain. Even after time had passed with him, I would be able to fool myself. My heart and my head would tell me I was never shattered into a million pieces.

  If I were to have Ryan completely, life would be beautiful. My head wants to convince me I can never be happy. That I don’t deserve to find happiness in my life, and that’s why I destroy it. I would rather destroy my own happiness than have someone else be in control of it. At least if I’m in control, it won’t hurt as much. I would be able to bear the pain. Even though I felt a terrible pain that devastated me when I lost Grayson, losing Ryan would obliterate me. I wouldn’t be able to collect myself and glue back the pieces haphazardly because there would be no pieces to collect. Only ashes would be left in his wake.

  A loud thump pulls me out of my head. Ryan’s voice echoes in the breezeway. I quickly slip up the stairs as quietly as possible to hide from him.

  “Where are you this time?” he huffs.

  It’s silent for a couple of minutes while I assume the person on the other end speaks. Ryan squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temples with his hand. His stance is rigid, and if he holds his cell phone any tighter, I’m sure the screen would crack.

  “Don’t move. I’m on my way.” He swiftly walks past the staircase, and my whole body tightens to ensure he doesn’t see me lurking in the shadows. “No you’re not driving. I’m taking those damn keys away from you as soon as I get there. You won’t be driving anywhere as long as I have something to say about it. I’ll be there in five.” He shoves his phone in his pocket and throws open his car door.

  Before I can make it down the stairs for the second time, he’s out of the parking lot with only a puff of exhaust left behind.

  I don’t know much about Ryan. All I know is his dad is an alcoholic who was once sober, but I know nothing else about his life. Yeah, I really am a crappy person.

  Jumping into my car, I drive off to the one place I can think of. A place where I feel at peace.

  The fucking hike is brutal. It doesn’t get any easier the third time around. It took me twice as long to get my exhausted body to the top. The fact that I’m feeling withdrawal symptoms doesn’t help either. I was hoping this hike would take my mind off what I really wanted.

  The drugs. Alcohol. Grayson. Ryan.

  Do I even know what I really want?

  But just like the last time, seeing the view from the top makes the horrendous hike worth every second, and all my worries float away with the breeze, even if it is just for a moment.

  The shining sun blinds me. I bring my hand to my sticky forehead to shield my eyes from the blinding rays of the sun. With my eyes wide open, I watch the ocean waves at the bottom of the mountain. In the distance, mountains grace the skyline, creating a sharp contrast from the crystal blue sky. I’m surrounded by a tranquil atmosphere and an astounding view that can’t be bought. No, this kind of view you have to work for.

  I situate myself on a small green patch of grass amongst all the dirt. I lean back on my hands and tilt my head toward the sky. Closing my eyes, the light breeze whips my hair in my face and cools me down while beads of sweat roll down my body.

  I think about the path my life has taken and how disappointed I am in the way it has turned out. I’ve learned from all of my experiences, but it seems things would have been a lot easier if I could’ve skipped some of the bad parts of my life. If only I could’ve not been an addict. If I had a normal upbringing, would my life have turned out differently? If I had learned from my parents’ mistakes, my life might not be anything like it is today. I don’t know what my life could have been, but it doesn’t matter. I have to live with the life I have. Live with the choices I’ve made. I have to be thankful for the journey I’ve taken. I’ll turn out stronger in the end, but it doesn’t stop the questions in my head.

  “Avery, get over here!” my mother yells from where she sits on the couch in the living room.

  I run as fast as my short legs will allow me. “Yes, Mama,” I say, slightly winded from running down the stairs from my bedroom.

  “Bring me another beer. I’m out.” She shakes her brown empty bottle and stares at it as if someone stole her lifeline. She stares at me impatiently. “Now!” she bellows.

  I scurry to the kitchen and yank open the refrigerator door. The beer bottles in the door rattle from the force. I grab two to be on the safe side. I don’t want her to yell at me again or bother me for that matter. On second thought, I’ll take four bottles. My stomach rumbles as I realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I missed lunch, and I’m well on my way to missing dinner. I search the refrigerator for something to eat. To be honest, there isn’t much to search through. There are a couple slices of cheese, milk, yogurt, and old fruit that’s emitting a funky smell. The rest of the refrigerator is full of beer. That’s the one thing w
e aren’t lacking, but I wish I had a decent meal to eat.

  “Avery, what the hell is taking so long?” She coughs from the pack of cigarettes she has smoked once a day for the last three years.

  “Coming.” I swiftly grab two pieces of cheese and slam the door to the refrigerator, which causes the bottles to rattle again.

  “It’s about damn time. What were you doing...making the shit?” She snatches one bottle from my hands and pops off the cap faster than I can hand her the rest of them. She chugs half of it in no time, which makes me glad I brought four. “Give one to your father.”

  I timidly hand one to my father who is lounging on his tan leather recliner. He takes all three bottles from my arms without so much as looking at me. “At least you’re good for something,” he mumbles.

  “Avery, clean up this damn mess,” my mother demands.

  I wander back to the kitchen to grab a trash bag while I quickly unwrap both slices of cheese and shove them in my mouth. I swallow before I walk back out to the living room, so they don’t tell me to put them back. Many times, they have denied me food for “not doing as I was told.” But that’s not true, I always do what I’m told. I stay out of their way, go to school, do my homework, and bring them beer. When they get drunk, they get mad at the smallest things that I do. One time, I got in trouble because Mom thought I broke a bottle of tequila, but it wasn’t me. Dad had drunk the whole bottle the day before, and when it was empty, he got mad and threw it at the wall. It shattered into a million tiny pieces on the kitchen floor. Mom denied me food for a whole day. She told me that was the only way I’d learn my lesson. I didn’t argue with her. I learned long ago not to argue with them because that only made the punishment worse.

  I run out to the living room and begin picking up the beer bottles littering the dingy cigarette-stained carpet. Once all the bottles on the floor are in the trash bag, I grab all the ones lining the coffee table. I empty the cigarette tray into the bag and throw in the discarded cigarette packs laying on the dark blue couch. The fabric on the couch is tearing, revealing the cushions with stains lining the armrests. I don’t want to know where the stains came from.