Addiction

by Angela McPherson

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Later when Elle woke me up, her eyes were red and puffy from crying. A group of her family came in, and I stepped back, giving them room to get to Elle and her mom. A few friends heard the news and had either called or visited.

  Elle soldiered on, but I knew underneath her polite smile and kind words she was a broken mess.

  By the time Mom and Dad got up to the room, Elle's family had left. Mrs. Richards led them out to the hall. As always, Elle held herself together, only breaking down when she was alone.

  She refused to eat and hardly drank anything since the call. The only thing she'd agree to drink was the shitty-ass coffee I continued bringing her from the lobby. Honestly, I didn't know how much longer she could go on.

  I hated how helpless I felt. If I could take her pain away, I would.

  Elle moved to the chair next to Heather and held her hand.

  "Tristan, I don't know what to do. How do I save her?" Her voice sounded scratchy, hoarse. Her shoulders slumped, defeated and tired. She turned to look at me for answers I didn't have. I bent down in front of her and held her hands.

  "There isn't anything you can do. What Heather did wasn't your fault. You can't… damn, you can't save her."

  Tears flooded her eyes, her lips trembling. Finally she tore her eyes from me and back to her sister.

  "I don't know how to give up. She's all I've got."

  I wanted to fucking scream. Yell at Heather for being selfish, for putting Elle through this torture.

  "Hey," I said, cupping her face, making her look at me. "You have me, always. I'm here. Spud, you're not alone."

  She closed her eyes, allowing the unshed tears to drip down her face and over my hands. I brushed them away and pulled her to me, resting my forehead with hers.

  "I promised I wouldn't let you fall. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

  Elle's dad arrived a few hours later. She glared at him, her eyes blazing with hate. The doctors confirmed that Heather didn't have brain activity. Both Elle's parents had to agree to turn life-support off, and when they agreed, Elle became volatile.

  "You sorry bastard," she screamed, throwing her dad a left hook. Admittedly, I was damn proud of her. "You did this, and now you're going to completely take her away from me. She couldn't take living because you didn't want us. I hate you. Do you understand? I hate you!" She looked to her mom for help. "Mom, how could you?" Angry tears fell from her vivid green eyes.

  "Elle, she's not coming back to us. Your sister is gone."

  "Enough, Vivian. I'll handle this," he said with authority. Elle's mom backed away, shaking her head. Her dad turned his attention to Elle. "Elle, honey, please try to understand where I'm coming from."

  I grabbed Elle around her waist, though not because I didn't want her taking another swing at her old man. I needed to hold onto her so I wouldn't beat the living shit out of him myself.

  "Everett, I think you've done enough. You should leave. Now," I said as calm as I could possibly manage.

  The motherfucker laughed. "Tristan, is it?" He eyed me from head to toe, disgust clear to read in his assessment.

  I squeezed Elle tighter.

  "Your dad wasn't man enough for my wife, so what makes you think you're man enough to be with my daughter. You have no place telling me to leave. This is my family, boy."

  The next few seconds happened in a blur. I pushed Elle away and rammed my fist into her dad's arrogant face.

  Not expecting the force of my punch, Mr. Richards tumbled to the ground.

  I hovered over him, seething, inches from his face. "Ex-wife and don't forget, you left them. You gave up your parental rights the day you turned your back on your family." My heart thudded fast and hard against my chest. Adrenaline raged through my veins. "You're nothing but a piece of shit. Elle is my family–don't ever forget that."

  Elle

  Every second was a battle. I wanted to breathe without bursting in tears, without the continued stabbing ache in my chest. I wanted my sister back.

  Heather rested in the hospital bed, her eyes closed as if she were sleeping. I brushed tangles from her hair, but she never moved. She didn't flinch. Her eyes remained shut. But how could they give up? Didn't we owe her more than this? Than just…

  The doctor came into the room. "We can turn the machines off when you're ready." He looked between my parents. What a joke.

  "I'm not ready," I barked out. The doctor turned, his condescending sigh pissed me off.

  "I understand, but this decision isn't up to you. We've been over this."

  Staff came in to shut Heather's machines off earlier, but I wouldn't allow them to touch her. Hovering over her body, I protected her like a shield. I wanted my parents, the doctors, everyone to be wrong. They gave me a few hours to say goodbye. A few meaningless hours, and then she would be gone. Lost. Forever. I wouldn't let them take her without a fight.

  "I get that, asshole. Thanks for repeating, though." I focused my attention on my parents, praying they'd hear me out this time.

  "Mom, what if we wait another day?"

  Dad chimed in. "Elle, I have to–

  I snapped my head toward him. "I swear to God, if you finish by saying you've got to get back to your family, I will kick your ass myself." I laughed, well more like sneered. "Come to think of it, I may do that anyway."

  "Spud," Tristan said beside me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off and turned back to Mom.

  "Please, for me," my voice broke. This. This broke me.

  "I love you, Elle, and I'd give you the world if I could. I'd bring her back to me, to us. That's all I want, too, sweetie." Her lip trembled. "But I can't. You don't have to be the parent and you can hate me if that's what you need to do to get over this." Mom pointed to the bed. "Heather isn't in that bed. The longer we put this off, the more we hurt. If we stop now or tomorrow, Heather is not coming back. Ever."

  I wanted to hate her. I wanted to fight harder. But she was right. Still, I couldn't stand in that room and watch her die.

  "If you do this, you'll lose two daughters. I swear to God, Mom." She gave me no sign that she would change her mind. "I can't stick around to watch."

  I turned around to Tristan. "I'm going outside. I need some air. I can't breathe in here." I swallowed. "Will you stay for Mom. In case–" My breath caught, my chest shook on the sob.

  "I'll be here when you get back." Tristan held both sides of my face, before bending to press a kiss on my forehead.

  "Okay." I backed away and jogged to the elevators down the hall.

  Outside, I found the moon and stars instead of the sun and clouds. To be honest, I wasn't quite sure what exact day or time it was. I kept thinking at any minute I'd wake up and this whole mess would be a twisted nightmare.

  "You look like hell."

  Blinking back tears, I circled around. "Well, I've been there. What's your excuse?"

  Alyssa smiled, though it looked forced. "How ya doing?" She came up and hugged me tight.

  I laughed between sobs. "Um, I've been better. Dad showed up. Tristan punched him." I shrugged, not having the energy to pretend to give a shit.

  I'm not sure what happened to him, but the person upstairs wasn't the same guy who played Barbies with me and Heather or shot hoops with us as little girls. People change, I guess.

  "After seeing Tristan beat the shit out of Robbie, I'm afraid to ask how your dad's doing?" Alyssa frowned, rubbing circles on my back.

  "He only hit him once, but I'm not positive he won't hit him again before this is all said and done with." Tears sprang to my eyes again thinking about what would happen next.

  The funeral. The end.

  "I'm sorry, Elle. I know sorry doesn't make you feel better or lessen your pain, but I'm here for you." Alyssa paused, and glared. "However, if you ever tell me not to come when shit goes down, I will kick your ass. You're my best friend. You've been there for me when I was–you know. I get to be here for you. That's how this thing c
alled friendship works. Got it? You've got to let people in." She mocked me from when I'd told her the same thing all those years ago.

  "Okay, I'm sorry."

  We hugged and cried before going back in. Alyssa looked at me. "Ready to go in?"

  I responded, "No." Alyssa gave me one last quick squeeze and then we headed in anyway. We rode the elevator without talking. I loved how she knew when to leave me alone and vice versa. The doors separated and we exited. Down the hall, Dad walked out of the room and turned the corner, talking on the phone.

  "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Dad is married, and they had a baby. I'm not sure if he has just the one kid, or more."

  Alyssa sucked in a sharp breath. "No shit?"

  Yeah, no shit. The truth was hard to get used to. As of right now, I had no desire to meet his family. Maybe in the much distant future, when I was ready, I'd like to get to know my half-sister. The thought of meeting her hurt too much, the pain too fresh to consider it an option now.

  We reached the room. Mom was speaking with Tristan. "Had you not talked Heather into going to rehab, she'd still be on the streets. You gave us the chance to be together again. Even if we were only with her for a day. Thank you."

  I stared at the two of them, shocked and confused.

  "Mom, Tristan, what's going on?" I looked at my mom and then at Tristan. "Tristan?"

  He rushed to me, the color draining from his face.

  "I wanted to tell you. Hell, I begged Heather to see you. Every time I saw her, I pushed her to pick up the phone so you could hear her voice. When I took her to rehab, she promised me she'd call you, but she wanted to wait until she was ready."

  I must have heard him wrong.

  "You mean all this time you knew where she was and didn't say anything to me? Tell me I heard you wrong. You didn't sit back and watch me cry and worry about her, and all the while you said nothing?"

  His eyes pleaded with me to understand. I didn't think my heart could break more than it already did. Knowing Tristan deliberately withheld information about my sister shattered my heart into a million little pieces.

  He'd lied, repeatedly.

  I could have talked to her. Had I been given the chance to see her, talk with her, I could have convinced her to stay in rehab longer. She'd be okay.

  She'd still be alive.

  Now, I'll never know.

  "Elle, I'm sorry, but she wouldn't agree to rehab unless I promised not to tell you."

  "And what about the times before that? You said every time you'd seen her. Why didn't you tell me?"

  My mom piped in.

  "I told him not to."

  I whipped my head around, furious that he and my mom worked together.

  "What the hell, Mom? You should have told me. I deserved to know!" My throat hurt from yelling.

  "Elle, I wanted you to live your life. It wasn't fair to have you search for her. I was trying to be the parent."

  "Well maybe you should have fucking thought about that when dad left. Maybe you should have given a shit about her back then instead of buying purses and clothes or whatever the hell else you bought to make you feel better.

  "Maybe you should have been a mom and I wouldn't have had to. And maybe she'd be alive right now if you had."

  The sting of her hand across my face held nothing compared to the betrayal I felt.

  "Elle, honey. Oh, God. I'm sorry." She cupped her hand over her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  "I'm done." I turned to walk away, but Tristan reached for my shoulder.

  "Elle, don't leave."

  My throat closed, raw.

  "Please…" His voice cracked but I couldn't give in, not after what he'd done.

  "I can't do this." I jerked myself free from his hold and ran out.

  Alyssa drove me to Mom's. I grabbed my stuff, and then we headed to her place. She set me up in the guest room beside hers, which was stupid. I ended up staying in her room instead. I didn't sleep well that night or the next.

  Mom called to tell me Heather's funeral would be this Friday at two in the afternoon. When she started in with how sorry she was, I hung up.

  Tristan's calls went unanswered, too, but that didn't stop him from leaving messages. Each time he pleaded for me to call or at the very least text. He sounded like he hadn't slept in days. Instinct told me to forgive, to comfort and love him as I'd always done… but I just couldn't. Not now.

  After a while, I ended up deleting his messages without listening. However, he was persistent and blew up Alyssa's phone.

  Friday morning the sun rose in the sky. Life continued. The weather guy mentioned a record high for this time of year. I didn't notice the warmth.

  Numb, I felt numb.

  So much had happened in such a short period that I hadn't allowed myself to feel. Really, I didn't want to.

  "Alyssa, will you sit with me in the front."

  She zipped up her black dress. "Of course I will."

  "Thanks." On our way to the church, Alyssa casually brought Tristan up.

  "So, you gonna say anything to him today?"

  I played dumb. "I don't have anything to say to my dad, so no, I'm not."

  She sighed. "You know I wasn't talking about your dad, and I'm on your side with that one."

  I turned to glare at her. Not that glaring did any good, considering I had sunglasses on. "So, you think I should just forgive Tristan? I guess I should forgive Mom, too. I mean, who gives a shit that they kept Heather from me."

  I crossed my arms over my chest, eyes stinging. Ironically, I was sick to death of crying. When would the goddamn tears stop?

  "Well, it's obvious the hurt is still fresh, but in time, yeah, you should forgive him and your mom. Your dad can wait longer; he's still a dick."

  I managed a small smile.

  "I just can't right now, Alyssa. Okay?" I focused on the traffic outside, defeated.

  "Yeah, I get it, but you're not off the hook. Today is your one and only get-out-of-jail-free card."

  The parking lot was half-filled. The church building was beautiful in a sad, "I can't believe this is happening, depressed" sort of way. Sunflowers draped over Heather's casket. I remembered when she told me the reason she loved sunflowers so much.

  They are giant flower trees and you can eat the seeds.

  Her reasoning used to make me smile. Unfortunately, every time a memory pushed its way in my mind, I ached inside.

  I didn't want to cry anymore, but I seemed to have an endless supply of salt and water, or maybe I'd stored too much over the years? Stupid reasoning helped keep me from completely losing my shit.

  I repeated to myself to hold it together just a little longer. When I got back home, I could let all the hurt and pain go. Later.

  Mom decided a closed casket would be best. She'd blown up a few pictures for display. The pictures ranged over the years. I looked around the room, but didn't really see it. Family members and old friends said they were sorry for my loss once I sat down.

  The pews were cold and hard. A fresh pine scent from the wood made my stomach roll. The air conditioner kicked on. The breeze helped settle my nausea. I zoned out, letting the noise of hushed whispers fade into the background.

  Alyssa squeezed my arm a few times, letting me know she was there. I'd never witnessed her so quiet in my life, but I appreciated the sentiment.

  We sat in the first pew. I made sure to sit at the end with Alyssa on the other side of me. I didn't have to worry about talking to Mom or Tristan.

  Minutes later, my grandma walked down the aisle with Mom beside her. When everyone was seated, I noticed my dad sat in the row behind us with a blackish purple bruise around his right eye. I wondered if he was sad, upset about Heather. Did he regret not being part of our lives?

  The preacher walked to the front and started his sermon. Voices hushed, but quiet whimpers rang in my ears like a bullhorn. I crossed my legs, shifting in the seat. The slight movement helped.

  He did a great job, I think.
I tuned out most of what he'd said and focused on the pictures Mom chose instead. When I reached the last one, I stopped breathing.

  It'd been the picture of me, Tristan, and Heather. The same one I held on Christmas Eve. Tears fell, again. My cheeks should look like prunes or raisins by now.

  I glanced over my shoulder to my right, and in a direct shot, found Tristan. Dark circles hung under his red-rimmed eyes. He looked up and our gazes met. He was a beautiful mess, and I loved him so much, but the pain he created… well, I didn't think I'd recover. Would I ever be able to trust him again? I didn't know.

  Tristan

  I watched, powerless to change the past as Elle discovered the truth. Knowing I had a hand in Elle shutting me out of her life burned like a fire-hot cattle prod scorching my heart. She dismissed my calls. Alyssa told me to sit tight and give her space. Space. Time. Both sucked, leaving me with too much time to sit and fucking think.

  I thought for sure I'd be able to talk with Elle at the funeral home, but that hadn't been the case. When I walked in, an assortment of pictures were situated at the front. Certain memories came flooding back. Wrapping my brain around Heather's death was damn near impossible until I walked in.

  I stayed in the room when they turned off Heather's ventilator. The nurse silenced the machines, but I watched her heart monitor flatline. Heather's chest never moved, her eyes didn't twitch, and her lips stayed closed. She was officially dead.

  I snapped my head up when the doctor spoke. "We'll give you time to say goodbye."

  "Oh, God. What did I do?" Mrs. Richards cupped her hands over her mouth, shaking her head while silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Mr. Richards' face turned pale. Agony sketched in the crinkled edges around his eyes. He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. I stood as an outsider, witnessing the most horrific act a parent could live through.

  "Vivian," Mr. Richards whispered, and then cleared his throat. He teared up. "I never meant for this." He shook his head.

  Without emotion, Mrs. Richards replied, "You never mean for anything, Everett."