I feel everything that has been holding me down escape my body. Alcohol. Drugs. Grayson. Guilt. It all leaves my body and floats away as the wind sweeps them into the mountains.
I'm free.
I'm happy.
I'm a new person.
TWENTY
Rain pours down on me as I run to my apartment building. I’m soaked. Somehow it went from a beautiful sunny day to a complete downpour. I can be thankful I’m not still on the top of the mountain. If I was, I can assure you my ass would never go up there again because my happy place would have turned on me.
Once I’m safe from the downpour, I attempt to wipe off the excess water on my arms and face. My clothes are sticking to me in a very unflattering fashion, and my toes squish in my tennis shoes with my sopping wet socks.
With one foot on the staircase leading to the comfort of my warm bed, Ryan shoots out of his apartment and into the rain that has begun to slow down. He fumbles with his keys and drops them on the ground where they land under his car. He crouches down and feels under his car, hoping to regain contact with his keys.
I run out to him before he can climb into his car to see why hes’s in such a hurry.
“Ryan?” I lightly touch his arm startling him.
“Uh, hey. Look, I can’t talk. I have to go.” He throws open the driver’s side door and quickly hops inside.
“Do you need anyone to come along?” I don’t want to outright asks if he needs help because I have a feeling he would say hell no.
No one wants to admit they need help.
I should know.
He looks me up and down wondering if he wants someone soaking wet in his car. He contemplates it for a second before I see the exact moment he gives in.
“Yeah. Come on.” He nods his head to the passenger side and slams his door shut while I run around the car before he can change his mind.
We sit in silence as Ryan weaves through traffic the rain has created.
He drives for fifteen minutes before we arrive at a rundown house. The blue paint on the house is faded and chipped, and some of the siding has rotted off the front of the house. Small patches of dying grass are in the front yard while the rest is dirt, which has turned to mud from the onslaught of rain. Tools cover every inch of the front porch. The blinds in the windows are broken and falling off, defeating their purpose.
We walk up the cracked driveway and through the broken front door. The inside of the house reminds me too much of my own, causing me to pause in the doorway.
An old ratty couch is across from a television, straight out of the eighties. The television sits on a coffee table covered in scratches. The dingy carpet reeks of cigarettes, and beer cans are strewn across the floor and couch.
I snap myself out of it when I realize Ryan has left me standing in the doorway while I was taking a trip down memory lane.
A bad trip that’s staring me right in the face.
As I walk through the living room, the floor beneath my feet creaks in protest, making me cautious as to where I step. You know, just in case the floor falls from beneath my feet. I shake my head from the absurd thought.
I walk past the kitchen where the flooring changes to a tan linoleum that I assume used to be lighter in color as opposed to the dirty brown it is. Beer cans litter the counter tops, and the smell of old food fills my nose. A couple of flies buzz around the pile of dirty dishes that have accumulated in the sink.
“Dad! Get up!” Ryan yells in the distance.
I sprint up the stairs where Ryan’s voice came from. I search through two rooms before I find him on the ground in a bedroom hovering above his dad.
“What happened?” I run to his side and fall to my knees next to Ryan.
“He fell. I…I tried to get him up, so he wasn’t lying on the bathroom floor. I wanted to put him in bed. I was supporting him. I didn’t drop him.” Ryan’s voice is frantic with worry, and I know he won’t be thinking clearly to take action.
I step up.
“I’m calling 911.” I grab Ryan’s phone out of his pocket and dial. Ryan tells me the address since I have no idea where the hell we are. “They’ll be here in five minutes. I’m sure everything is fine, but he needs to be checked out.”
I can tell Ryan’s head is somewhere else, and he hasn’t listened to a word that has come out of my mouth. It’s okay, though. He has the right to be worried.
The ambulance arrives and loads his dad into the back. The paramedics list off a bunch of gibberish neither of us understands. Before Ryan has a chance to say anything, the ambulance drives off with its lights flashing and siren blaring through the neighborhood.
Ryan rushes to his car and starts it before I have a chance to open the passenger side door.
He’s not thinking clearly. I can see it in the frantic look in his eyes. “I can drive.” I say, sticking my head in the car, so he can hear me.
“No, I’m fine. Get in.”
I don’t argue because I can see there’s no point. He won’t listen to me, not right now. He’s too concerned about his dad to hear anything I have to say. So I let him drive. I let him drive like a maniac chasing the red flashing lights.
Sitting in the stark white waiting room, we wait for someone to tell us what’s going on. We followed the ambulance to the hospital and have been waiting here for almost an hour with no answers. The television is a dull noise in the background that no one seems to be paying attention to.
A woman dressed in teal scrubs makes her way toward us. I elbow Ryan in the ribs to pull his attention away from the ceiling he has been staring at for the last ten minutes. He jumps out of his seat the second he spots the nurse and meets her halfway as if she couldn’t get to him fast enough.
“Is he okay? What’s happening?” he questions, panicked.
“Everything is fine. We gave him some fluids which will fix him right up. The blood tests we ran indicated a high level of alcohol in his system. Does he normally drink?”
“Every day,” Ryan says shamefully.
“Here are some brochures to look over. Perhaps you can persuade him to get some help.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” he mumbles under his breath as the nurse passes him the information.
“Come this way, and I’ll take you to him.”
We follow her down the brightly lit hallway, passing patients in wheelchairs with needles stuck in their arms. I'm so distracted by all the sick people in the hospital that it takes me a second to realize what room his father is in.
This is it.
Grayson died in this room.
495.
Is the world trying to test me? Why does it continually want me to fail?
My heart beats frantically in my chest. Beads of sweat form on my forehead, and my vision becomes fuzzy. I squeeze my eyes shut and attempt to calm down. Taking deep breaths, I will the pain away.
My heart rate returns to normal, and my eyes pop open, but when they do, it’s something I never expected to see.
Grayson lies there motionless. I hover over him, willing him to come back to life even though I know there’s no hope.
He’s gone.
His soul is gone.
All that’s left is the body that held his beautiful personality. Tears stream down my face and land on his arm. I wipe my tears from his arm, which is much colder than a body should be. I silently cry while I stare at him, memorizing everything about him that I can.
But is this what I really want to remember? His lifeless form? With his lips fading from bright pink and cuts covering his face. I close my eyes to remember him alive with that contagious smile on his face.
I fight to bring myself back to the present. I need to be here for Ryan to be his support, but the memories keep yanking me back in time.
I kiss his cold forehead and step away from his bed. So the nurse can attend to his lifeless form. I back out slowly not wanting to admit this night is real. How can this be real?
Walking out of his room, I fall to
my knees and sob harder than I thought was humanly possible.
I pull myself back trying to think of the happy times I shared with Grayson. I find it hard when the only thing I can see in front of me is Grayson in the hospital bed instead of Ryan’s dad.
I back out of the room, hoping to compose myself. Instead, I remember how I blacked out from crying so much. Somehow I got home, somehow a week passed, and somehow I went to the funeral. My brain completely blocked out all things it knew would bring me to a completely new level of despair.
“You okay?” Ryan gently touches my arm, pulling my attention out of my dark thoughts.
“It’s…it’s a lot.” I try to be strong, but I know there’s something I have to do before I can let go of this pain. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” I give him an apologetic look and back away without any explanation.
I catch a cab back to my apartment, so I can get in my car and drive.
Drive to the one place I can’t remember but wish I could.
Holding up a small, wrinkled piece of paper in my hand, I arrive at the black iron gates an hour later. Slowly, I drive through them and weave through the gravel road that’s constructed through the grass. After driving aimlessly for ten minutes attempting to find the correct spot, I park my car slightly off the gravel road as to not block other cars.
Taking several deep breaths, I open my car door and step on the luscious green grass that’s tended to daily. Carefully, I walk around, not wanting to ruin any flowers or other mementoes that have been left behind by grieving families.
Shiny concrete with Grayson’s name etched into it catches my eye. I cautiously step in front of his grave, not sure of the emotions that will wreck me. The headstone is simple and to the point without offering any inclination of the person Grayson was.
Although the grass is wet from the rain, I sit in front of his headstone with my legs crossed. The grass soaks through my yoga pants and underwear leaving my butt wet and cold.
Emily gave me the address to the cemetery where Grayson was buried after his funeral. I never would have been able to find this place without her. She knew I couldn’t remember. She left the address on my refrigerator on a small piece of paper, and it has been sitting there ever since. I never looked at it. I never wondered where he was buried. I never wanted to see him, until now. I’m thankful for the friend I have in Emily. She knew that one day I would need it. One day, I would want it.
This is the first time I've been here since the funeral. A funeral I don’t even remember. I dishonored him by not paying my respects to him in death. I would change so many things about the last year of my life if I could. All I can do is try my damnedest to make up for it now.
“Hey, Grayson. It’s been a while. How are you doing?” I shake my head at myself. “Stupid question.” I sigh and stare at the sky, wondering if he’s looking down on me while I sit here and talk to myself.
Leaning forward, I run my fingers along his name as if I can feel him. The wind blows, whipping my hair out of my face causing a chill in the air. I swear I can almost smell him. The scent of the ocean and fresh linen. I could always smell the laundry detergent on his clothes even if it had been a week since he did laundry. I inhale as much as I can, although I know it’s impossible for me to smell him in the air. It’s all in my head, but I'll enjoy it as long as I can.
“I haven’t been doing so well without you, but I’m getting there.” I stare at my hands in my lap. “I fell apart when you left this world. I drowned myself in my own sorrows. Until one day, I decided I needed to get clean. For you. But you see, that’s where I went all wrong. I shouldn’t have done it for you, and that’s why I failed. I was clean for almost two months before I slipped. I saw the video you made which caused my addiction to rear its ugly head, but it’s not your fault.” Tears slip down my face, and I wipe them away with the back of my hand.
I unlock my phone and open my gallery. I click the folder that contains every picture of Grayson. Seeing his beautiful face and his blue eyes brings a smile to my face. All the goofy pictures we took together make me laugh under my breath. We would stick out our tongues and put bunny ears on each other. In other pictures, we’re kissing which makes my heart swell with all the love I have for him.
“I’m getting clean for me this time. That’s how I know I’m not going to fail. I’m doing it right. That’s why I failed my first attempt. I wasn't doing it for the right reasons. There’s no way any of us can change unless we want to.” I exit the pictures on my phone and lay it on my leg. I sniffle a couple times as a few more tears fall from my eyes.
“I’ve always loved you, Grayson, and I always will. But the thing is, I wasn’t in love with you. I loved you as my best friend, and it took me all this time to realize that. I know from your video you felt the same way. I’m just…I’m sorry. I’m sorry you never had the chance to find the love of your life. I’m sorry I wasted your time with all of my problems, and I’m sorry I couldn’t give you everything you ever wanted.
“I’ll always carry you with me,” thinking of the tattoo that will serve as a reminder of a man who changed my life, “but I have to let you go. It’s the only way I can move one. I have to let go of the pain to heal, but know this, I won’t ever forget you.” That’s all it takes for the tears to come full-force. I cry into my hands as my body shakes.
While I know I won’t forget a single moment with Grayson, I have to let go of the love and loss I feel for him. I cry to let out every feeling I have. To purge it from my body. From my life.
My heart breaks and heals all at the same time.
Standing from the ground, I wipe off my butt which is utterly useless considering my pants are soaked. I place my hand on his headstone and close my eyes, letting out a deep breath.
“I love you, Grayson.”
As I walk away, the wind blows with the scent of ocean and fresh linen in the air. I know that he’s saying goodbye to me. I can only hope wherever he is he can forgive me for everything I put him through.
“I’ll see you soon,” I whisper as I make my way back to my car.
EPILOGUE
It’s been four days since I ran out on Ryan at the hospital. I haven’t been able to face him until now, which is why I’m standing at his apartment door trying to summon the courage to knock on his door. I know he has questions for me, and I will answer every one of them.
In the last four days, I cried and ignored the voices in my head begging me to take a drink. Luring me in with the thought of alcohol taking away all the pain. But I resisted. I needed to get through the pain. I had to feel every bit of it, so I could move on with my life.
To find my passion.
To find myself.
To find love.
And I sure as hell did feel every single ounce of pain. I was miserable, but now I feel a tiny bit better. My heart is healing even in its broken state.
I muster up all the courage I can and knock on his door with three light taps.
Shuffling comes from the other side before the door opens, revealing Ryan in a red t-shirt and jeans. He weakly smiles at me before stepping aside to let me in.
After walking in, I turn and hug him as hard as I can. He startles, taken off guard but embraces me when the shock wears off.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, holding him even tighter.
“I know.” He rubs my back soothingly and holds me just as tight.
Settling into the couch, I explain what happened. I tell him about the significance of that room in the hospital. I explain it was a horrific coincidence, and the world was obviously against me.
But maybe just maybe, the world was pushing me to face everything I haven’t. To push me to let go of the one person who could inevitable destroy me if I didn’t make peace with him.
Of course, Ryan is perfect and completely understands. He doesn’t hold one thing against me. He tells me over and over how proud he is of me for going to the one place I’ve been avoiding. He explains his dad is fine and at home
, surely already drunk. At least he’s okay because Ryan would have blamed himself profusely if something happened to his dad.
Ryan wants to know every detail of what happened with Grayson.
Our relationship.
His death.
My guilt.
My addiction.
My grief.
My peace.
All of it circles back around to Grayson.
I explain everything to Ryan. I tell him every sordid detail, and he doesn’t flinch. And that’s how I know, we were meant to find each other. We were meant to help each other. To heal each other.
And I will fight like hell to keep him around as long as I can.
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Escaping the Edge Page 17
