Bittersweet Always

by Ella Fields

  “Sometimes.”

  “Did I tell you Alexis came into the parlor last week?”

  “You didn’t.” Daisy sighed. “She okay?”

  “If by that you mean she’s still kind of a spiteful bitch, then sure, she’s doing great.”

  Daisy laughed. “For real?”

  “Nah,” I said. “She only made a crack or two. But she seemed a little, I don’t know, remorseful? A little bitter and a little remorseful.”

  “What a fantastic combination.”

  “You’re telling me. It’s actually kind of fun sparring with her.”

  Daisy glared at me, and I laughed. “Whose side are you on?”

  “The side who won, duh.” She pinched me, and I swatted her hand away. “Joking, shit.”

  “There are no sides. That was a stupid thing to say.”

  “Not stupid.”

  We laid in silence for a while until my third alarm went off. “Crap sticks, better go.”

  Daisy groaned. “I don’t wanna. Let’s skip. Go get some donuts and shakes and sit out in the sun.”

  “Tempting, but I need to hand in this paper anyway.” Then it clicked, and I gasped. “It’s shark week for you.”

  Daisy’s eyes widened, then she scowled and mimicked my voice from earlier, “Say it a little louder, Pippa.”

  “Oh, I will.” I jabbed my finger at her. “You didn’t come home just to be with me. You couldn’t have sex.”

  She rolled her head back on a loud groan. “I could, but no … ew. I just can’t bring myself to do that. And so what?” She grabbed her bag, stuffing her things inside it. “You’re going to put me in the crappy friend basket because I got my period at the same time you might’ve needed me and it’s too convenient?”

  “No, I just like to watch you get all stressed out. I don’t see enough of it anymore.” I slung my bag over my shoulder, opening the door.

  “You bitch,” she hissed through a laugh, tossing her hairbrush at me as I ran out the door, snickering.

  The blankets fell off me, and I yanked them back with a huff. A dream danced just out of reach of my periphery. I chased it, wanting it to chase me back and keep me asleep a while longer.

  Something hit the ground with a thud, and my eyes flashed open. I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d managed to go back to sleep for, but I couldn’t feel Toby up against my back anymore. I rolled over, reaching for him in the dark. My hand fell on clammy skin, then it was immediately shoved off with a mumbled curse and a string of incomprehensible words.

  “Toby,” I whispered thickly.

  He didn’t respond.

  The sheets shifted as he rolled over, then rolled over again, a groan dragging long and loud from his throat.

  “Toby.” I sat up, pushing hair back from my face. Still no answer. Shaking him gently, I watched as his eyes flew open, his pupils dilated and his chest heaving up and down at a scary speed. “You okay?”

  The tendons in his neck bulged, his Adam’s apple rippling as he swallowed. “Bad dream,” he croaked.

  I switched on the bedside lamp and went downstairs to get him some water. This was the second time this week I’d woken up to find him in the throes of a nightmare.

  “Here,” I said, standing beside him and waiting as he shifted into a sitting position.

  “Thanks.” Toby took the glass, draining every drop in three seconds before setting it on the nightstand.

  Moving back into bed, I laid down, and he moved to rest his head on my stomach. “Read to me?” he asked, his voice so child-like, so strained that I couldn’t refuse him even if I wanted to.

  “Of course.”

  He reached for the book, passing it to me. I opened it, carefully setting the bookmark beside me on the bed.

  “The residents of New Davensville weren’t sure what to make of the new family of ten. ‘Who could afford to feed eight children,’ they whispered in each other’s ears on the streets and in the church pews Sunday morning. And that wife, she looked so sad. And though the words were true, the people sharing them could not care less. Sad she was, and also very beautiful, Susie surmised as she crossed paths with Gabriella in the local grocer just last week. Hair as black as midnight, and eyes so golden brown, reminiscent of twin pools of copper. Beautiful indeed. And her husband too. Though the question nagged incessantly at Susie’s conscience like a battering ram. What brought them here? The husband, most likely. Yes, Susie thought. Perhaps the wife was not very happy about the move. An idea formed in Susie’s mind, a cautious smile lifting her lips.”

  When Toby seemed to have relaxed, I asked, “Want to tell me about it?” My fingers swept through his hair, combing the sweaty strands back from his damp forehead.

  “I don’t even know if I could explain it.”

  “Try me,” I said softly, returning the bookmark to its place and shutting the book.

  He closed his eyes. “That feels good.”

  “Talk and I’ll keep going.”

  Keeping his eyes shut, he exhaled loudly before saying, “It’s like a movie reel of so many different things. All of them bad, and all of them just keep playing. It’s kind of like …”

  “Kind of like?” I prompted.

  “What happens in my head sometimes when I’m awake on the bad days. Only much worse.”

  Unsure whether to push a little more, I held my breath a minute, then let it out. “What’s it like? On the bad days?”

  He laughed a heartbreakingly, self-deprecating laugh. “There are bad days, not so bad but not so good days, and then there are the good days.”

  “You categorize them based on?”

  “How I feel,” he said quietly. “And my head.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to try to understand a little better.”

  “No. I can tell you. I just need to figure out how to explain it without sounding completely fucking crazy.”

  “I’d never think you’re crazy.”

  His smile was sad. “You love me, though.”

  “I do.”

  Time ticked on. One minute, then two, and three.

  “It’s almost like there are TVs playing. In my head, that is. Each of them plays something different, and I’m trapped in the middle while they all play on around me. I can’t turn them off, and I’m stuck on this chair that keeps spinning. Picture one of those office desk chairs, you know?” I nodded. “Around and around I go, from one thought to the next. Stupid shit I remember from when I was a kid to shit that happened two minutes ago. It doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t connect, it just …”

  “Is,” I said, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice. This wasn’t about me, or how it made me feel. No matter how much I ached for him after hearing that information.

  “Yeah, it just is. And at times, it’s relentless. Suffocating.”

  “These thoughts, they have no relevance to one another?”

  “Not that I can think of. And sometimes, something I’m stuck on is so loud, and I’m trying to figure it out, it won’t let me go before I can, and I’m letting it turn me over while I try to examine it, and I can’t … I just can’t.”

  I stayed silent, letting him talk when he was ready.

  “When they’re good thoughts, or even not so good but not so bad thoughts, it becomes a problem I need to solve. I can’t stand to be interrupted. It makes it worse, and I feel crazy because … because I’m having these conversations with myself in my own damn head.” He laughed humorlessly, and I kept running my fingers through his hair, trying to keep him calm. “It’s fucked up. I get irrationally mad at people who interrupt me when I’m talking to myself.”

  “You hide it well,” I surmised, looking back on all the times he’s been seen with a smile on his face and confidence carrying his feet wherever he went. “Do you do that on purpose?”

  “I don’t mean to hide it. Yes, it’s not something I’m proud of.” He grabbed my free hand, fiddling with my fingers. “I understand this kind of shit ha
ppens to way more people than just me, but I just want to feel normal.”

  “You should see someone again. Maybe start taking your medication,” I felt the need to tell him.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Why?”

  Sighing, he said, “I didn’t take them because of football. Which yeah, seems stupid now in hindsight, but they made me feel weird. Too loose. I had dizzy spells and would always feel so tired. I couldn’t play for shit, and that scared the hell out of me.”

  “You tried a few different ones?”

  “I did. I tried almost every prescription that was shoved down my throat. All except the ones I got over Christmas break.”

  I didn’t want to ask him to do anything for me. I wanted him to do it for him, and so I still pushed. “Would you consider trying them?”

  He didn’t answer me, just kept playing with my fingers.

  “Have you been thinking about your mom?”

  “I dreamed about her. That she came to say she was sorry, but then she disappeared again.”

  My heart panged, the words I needed to say fighting against my vocal cords. “My dad called me the other night when I got home.”

  “She’s gone, isn’t she?” he asked, voice deceptively soft.

  “Yeah. She was gone before he got home.”

  Another low chuckle. “Figures.”

  He got up, heading out of the room. I heard him in the bathroom a while and rolled over to face his sleep rumpled pillow.

  I was almost asleep when he came back. “Toby?”

  “Mmm?” he pulled me to him, resting his chin on top of my head.

  “You okay?”

  Long seconds ticked by before he answered. “Not right now, but maybe tomorrow.” He kissed my hair, inhaling deeply. “But even among all the chaos, my soul will always recognize yours.” He kissed my hair again. “Never doubt that, no matter what.”

  It was the no matter what that scared me.

  Ash fell from the blunt, holding my gaze until I brought it to my lips again, inhaling it deep into my lungs.

  Numb. It was both an underrated word and feeling.

  My head was quiet, my bones felt pliable and relaxed, and for the first time in weeks, I wasn’t worried about anything.

  Missed two days of class? Big fucking deal. It wasn’t like I’d dropped out.

  Didn’t complete an assignment due three days ago? No scratch that, didn’t even start it. No biggie. I had enough shit to catch up on. I’d just throw it on the never-ending pile waiting for me.

  And let’s not forget about my fucked-up excuse for a mother, who ran at the first sight of me.

  Fuck her.

  I didn’t even care.

  And I loved it.

  “Shit. Where’s this been for the past two years of my life?”

  Matt chuckled, downing more of his beer. “Football was your life.”

  The reminder should’ve stung with a force that threatened to send my heart shaking, but it didn’t even touch me.

  “What do I owe you?” I asked, digging my wallet out of my pocket.

  “Nothing, dude. But if you keep coming around, you’ll need to chip in. There’s a jar at the door.”

  I put the blunt in an empty beer bottle and saw myself out. Pippa would be coming over soon, and I needed to shower and get rid of the smell before she did.

  The scent of bacon and pancakes traveled up the stairs to greet me the next morning when I walked out of the bedroom. My head spun, and my mouth was dry as fuck.

  “I don’t remember what time I passed out,” I said to Quinn as I walked into the kitchen, grabbing the juice from the fridge and pouring myself a glass. “Did Pippa get sick? Where is she?”

  Daisy looked up from her phone, her brown eyes widening slightly. “What?” I asked.

  “Ah, dude. Put a fucking shirt on.” Quinn plated up some bacon and a pancake, putting it in front of Daisy on the counter.

  “Naw, don’t be like that.” Finishing off my juice, I dumped the glass then grabbed a piece of bacon off Daisy’s plate, winking at her when she scowled at me.

  “And Pippa didn’t come over.”

  My feet stopped at the base of the stairs. I looked up them as if she’d appear somewhere upstairs at any moment. “Where is she?”

  “She had study group. It ran late,” Daisy said.

  Study group. I rubbed at my brow for a second, wondering why the hell she didn’t text me.

  The front door opened, and I walked over, looking down the hall as Pippa walked in. “Hi,” she said, smiling wide as she kicked off her shoes.

  I stared at her as she walked over to me, my blood heating. Where’d she been? “Where have you been?”

  Grabbing my chin, she tilted it down to peck my lips. Her minty smell had my thoughts scattering, and I tried desperately to realign them. “I sent you a text,” she said, moving into the kitchen as Quinn plated the last of the food.

  “You didn’t.”

  Pippa laughed. “Um, yeah. I did.”

  “What time?”

  Daisy and Quinn exchanged looks. I ignored them, focusing on the reason I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “Maybe nine thirty? I don’t know. Study group ran late.”

  Ran late.

  What had she really been doing? She always came over when she said she would. Why change now? “You’re lying.”

  “Toby,” Quinn warned.

  I ignored him again, still staring at Pippa. Her beautiful eyes widened, her lips parting.

  “I didn’t get a text. I didn’t even know what you were doing.”

  “Toby, I sent you a text telling you it was late, and I was tired.”

  Late. Since when was nine thirty all that late? She could’ve been tired and still came here to sleep. It seemed irrelevant that I was getting high and had no concept of the time. I didn’t hear my phone go off. Didn’t feel it vibrate.

  “Toby, let’s go upstairs,” Pippa said quietly with a glance at Quinn and Daisy.

  “No, I’ll go upstairs. You go home, seeing as you’re apparently too busy for me anyway.”

  Daisy made a strange, strangled noise, and Pippa continued to stare at me with narrowed eyes and trembling lips.

  My hands shook. I shoved them in my pockets then raced up the stairs.

  The front door slammed five seconds later.

  Charcoal clouds crawled over the sky, and my feet tried to keep two steps ahead of them. It was going to rain any minute. My purse tucked under my arm, I reached the front door and knocked.

  No answer. I tried the doorbell and peeked between the curtains. No one was here.

  Pulling my phone out, I quickly called Toby.

  “Hello?” Loud music filled the background.

  “Hey, where are you? Obviously not home.”

  “Obviously.” He laughed, like leaving me to guess his whereabouts was now some form of payback. “Just messing with you. I’m at Matt’s place on the next street over. Wanna wait? I can leave now.”

  I glanced at the sky; it wasn’t dark yet, but the impending rain had me wanting to get someplace where I wouldn’t get wet.

  “I’ll meet you there,” I said, hanging up.

  I started walking down the street just as the sky opened, and fat drops of rain pelted my cheeks and arms.

  Fuck buckets of shit.

  What he was doing at this Matt guy’s place, I didn’t know. It took three calls the night before last before he’d finally speak to me after his weird outburst in front of Quinn and Daisy. He didn’t apologize and neither did I. I got the impression he wanted to forget it happened, and so reluctantly, I let it go.

  It wasn’t really him when he was like that. It wasn’t even someone else, but rather, something else.

  Thunder growled, and I almost jumped out of my skin as lightning streaked across the sky.

  Luckily, I didn’t need to know the number of the house; they were all outside on the porch, drinking, smoking, and listening to rap music.

 
“Hey, hey,” Matt said. “Long time no see, Pippa.”

  “Hi,” I said, remembering him from biology last semester.

  I trudged up the steps, swiping water from my face as Toby stared up at me with bloodshot eyes.

  “You’re smoking?”

  He shrugged, taking a long drag before putting the blunt out. “Don’t get mad. It takes the edge off.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around me. “Missed you,” he said to my ear.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t be at your place?” I asked, irritation itching at my skin.

  “Hmmm.” He moved my hair aside, kissing my neck. “Not nice, is it? Expecting someone to be there, but they’re nowhere to be found.”

  I stood, anger growing red hot in my chest and rising up my neck to my cheeks. Toby sat back, grabbing his beer from the ground and taking a sip, his eyes smiling at me.

  “So it’s payback? Seriously?”

  He glanced at the few guys sitting out here, who were all trying to look busy with an acoustic guitar.

  The music pounded, making my head hurt almost as much as my heart did.

  “Call it what you want, beautiful. I’m not in the mood to fight.”

  “Hey, Hawthorne, you put twenty in the jar yesterday?” Matt asked.

  Toby’s head ducked, but he said, “Yeah, I put another in earlier.”

  “Sweet. Thanks, man.”

  It all started clicking unbearably slow, like my brain needed a service. Its parts were rusted and out of date, but they were trying, and as that saying goes, better late than never.

  “You’ve been getting high all week?”

  Toby just stared as salt filled my nose, mouth, and eyes. I closed them, drawing in a never-ending breath before letting it tumble free.

  Thunder boomed overhead, making the guys on the porch hoot and curse.

  “I’m going home.”

  Toby leaned forward. “Because I smoked some pot?”

  “No. Because I don’t feel like hanging out here right now. It’s raining, and I’m …” I blinked back tears. “I just want to go.”

  “Pip, come on.” He reached for my hand, but I stepped back against the porch railing. “You can’t be mad at me over this.”