by Amy Daws
“Nothing to thank me for. Music is healing.”
I nod and sniff loudly, pulling away from him. “This feels horribly unprofessional.”
He grins. “I’ve never cared much for boundaries.”
“Sorry I’ve been blowing work off.” I look down, feeling ashamed.
“Why don’t we talk about it?” His voice is soft and coaxing.
“I don’t know if I can.” My throat feels like it could close up at the idea of spewing out all the horrid things I’ve done in such a short amount of time.
“I don’t think you have a choice.”
I nod my agreement and clear my throat. “I am so weak, Frank. And I’m losing my fucking mind.”
“What happened?”
“Everything. All at the same time. It became too much and I couldn’t cope. I just shut down and turned off.”
“Are you back on now?”
I shrug my shoulders. “There’s nothing left to be back for. I’ve killed off everything that mattered.”
“Well, what shall we do about that then?”
“What do you mean?”
“You need to get out of this stinky flat, for starters. I’ve called cleaners in. They will be here in thirty minutes.”
“I can clean my own flat, Frank.”
“Please, what’s the point of being wealthy if I can’t spend it on friends? Get dressed. You and I are going on an excursion. And for God sake, please don’t wear more fucking black. Put on something cheerful. Better yet, I’ll pick your clothes!”
He winks at me playfully before leaping up and heading over to my closet to begin his rummaging. For the first time in days, I feel a grin teasing at my mouth.
“I’ve never seen so much depressing black in my entire life,” Frank says as we ride the Tube to his house in Brixton.
Much to his dismay, Frank couldn’t find anything he liked in my closet that wasn’t black. So here I sit in a simple black tank dress and silver statement necklace.
“I need to get you in a store with my Lezbo so we can do some serious shopping.”
“Lezbo?” I ask curiously.
“My best mate. She’s my partner in crime. My red-headed soul sister. Fellow weirdo. My other half.”
“And Finley is a friend of yours too, right? You all live together?”
He scowls meanly for a moment before his face splits into a grin. “Finley and I have a love-hate relationship. The bitch knows how to push my buttons. Don’t take fashion advice from her. The girl can’t wear anything that doesn’t have a hood on it.”
Frank continues chattering on about his several roommates and I smile at his intimate descriptions of all of them. Was Hayden ever that for me? Were we ever anything good for each other? He never gave me what I got from Marisa in school. Marisa made me want to be better. Hayden just kept me in limbo it seems.
“So what are we going to your house for?”
“It’s just a pit stop. I might have stolen Lezbo’s bedazzler and the twat will murder me if she finds it missing. I’ve got to put it back in her room before she gets home from work. Then we’ll be on our way.”
We pop up out of the Underground and make our way past a skate park littered with tons of young pubescent teens. Suddenly, a boy no older than fourteen shouts through the chain-link fence as we prepare to cross the street. “Oi! Frank! Who’s the sexy bird?”
Frank’s eyes flash wildly as he turns, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Get stuffed, Nigel, you prat! I know where your bloody mum lives!”
“Crikey, it was just a joke. Keep your shirt on.” The boy drops his skateboard and pushes off.
“Bloody twats…the lot of em. Come on now.”
He hurries us across the busy street and we stop in front of a large Victorian house right on the corner. A bright purple door anchors the gorgeous three story mansion complete with a Rapunzel tower. Green ivy wraps up along the brick siding.
“This is mine.” Frank jogs up the steps, opening the door and stepping back for me to enter first.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say as we enter the foyer. There’s a large staircase straight ahead. To the right is a formal dining room and what looks like a kitchen back further. To the left is a cozy living room with a hallway leading to what I can only assume are bedrooms.
“Cheers. I’ll just be a moment. Wait here.” Frank turns to run up the stairs, then pauses halfway up. “If a red-headed firecracker that goes by the name of Lezbo shows up, stall her.”
My eyes widen at his seriously nervous expression. I find myself chuckling as he disappears to wherever this beloved bedazzler lives.
“Hey!” a female voice calls from my left. I glance over and see Finley striding out of the hallway attached to the living room. She’s dressed in a slim black pencil skirt and yellow blouse. Her brown hair is tied up in a chic, high bun. “Rey, right?” Finley pierces me with her clear blue eyes and bright smile.
“Yeah! You’re Finley. Nice to see you again.” I pause, briefly scanning the back of my mind to remember what Liam had said about their relationship. It didn’t sound like it ever got too serious with her, but I can’t help but wonder if he still holds a candle for her. He said she was the first person he was interested in since Marisa. I can so see why. Honestly, she’s like painfully beautiful.
Just then I hear a scream from the dining room behind me. I turn to find a petite girl draped over a cute, skater-looking boy’s shoulder. He gives her ass a hard crack and then his eyes turn wide as he sees me standing in the foyer with Finley. “Oh, bugger. Sorry. Didn’t know we had company.” The guy stops in the doorway and slides the girl down his chest. He tucks his blond hair behind his ears, looking decidedly embarrassed.
“You prat, Mitch!” The girl’s high pitched voice pierces the foyer once she rights herself. Her sloped eyes glare moodily at her offender as she swats him on the arm. He doesn’t even acknowledge her assault. “You could have helped, Brody!” she yells back into the dining room.
Suddenly, this mysterious Brody comes strolling into the foyer. This one is even hotter than the first. He’s tall, with dark hair that curls at the ends in a sexily mussed way. His deep blue eyes pop out from his creamy complexion. His accent is American as he says, “Jules, you know that quoting Breaking Bad turns Mitch on. Why do you do it right when you have to leave for work?”
“Guys!” Finley’s voice cuts into their arguing. “This is Rey. Rey, this is my husband, Brody, and our housemates, Mitch and Julie.”
“Nice to meet you, Rey. You’re not taking the purple sheets, are you?” Brody asks as he strides past me and wraps his hands around Finley’s waist from behind. Finley’s tall and he towers a good four inches over her.
“Purple sheets?”
“Ignore him,” Finley shakes her head like she’s embarrassed.
“It’s what we all try to do,” Mitch mumbles.
“You love me and you know it,” Brody retorts, glowering at Mitch.
“So, wow, you guys all live here?” I ask dumbly.
“Yeah, there’s a whole cluster of people in this Brixton mansion. Frank is basically like our Madame. Our ginger, Irish, sassy, Madame.” Brody, Finley, and Julie all bust out laughing. Mitch’s smirk is sly and I can’t help but laugh along with all of them and their strange dynamic.
“Sorry, but I gotta split,” Julie says wiping happy tears from her eyes. She kisses Mitch chastely on the lips and offers me a sweet wave as she walks out the front door.
“I have stuff to do, too. Pub later, right Brody?”
“You got it,” he drawls in response.
“Brilliant. It was nice to meet you, Rey,” Mitch says. Then he heads up the stairs, leaving me in the foyer with a couple that look like they belong in a magazine.
“So, if you’re not here for purple sheets, what brings you by?” Brody asks, his eyes wide and kind.
“Oh, I’m waiting for Frank. We’re going on some excursion I guess. He had something he had to do here first. Something abou
t a bedazzler?”
Finley’s eyes grow wide. “Oh shit, yeah. Lez will skin him if he’s fucked with that again.”
I laugh at her serious face. “You guys seem like you’re all really close.”
She smiles kindly. “Yeah, we’re close. For better or worse and all that shit. There’s a room open on the third floor if you need it! That’s what Brody meant when he said purple sheets.”
Her offer stuns me. I eye her to see if it was just a pleasantry but she seems genuine. In fact, it feels like she sees right through me and is trying to figure out a way to pull me out of this swamp that I’ve found myself in.
“Keep in mind, though, boundaries are almost always an issue here.”
I smile, not surprised in the least, especially since Frank just shoved me into a shower only moments earlier. “I have a flat, but thanks!”
“No problem. We should do drinks sometime,” Finley adds. “I could use more girlfriends here. You’ll love Leslie. Frank’s great and all, but his obsession with denim is seriously—”
“You bloody whore.” Frank’s voice cajoles from the top of the stairs. “Stop trying to nick my new mate! Rey is mine. You and Lezbo have your secret cuddles you think I don’t know about. Well, I do. You can’t have my Oxford.”
“Frank, don’t get territorial. We can share new friends.” She winks knowingly at me as Frank begins to descend. Brody watches on with a broad grin as Finley continues, “I was just telling Rey about your denim fan club that you’re the president of.”
Frank pauses in the middle of the staircase, straightening his completely denim ensemble. He pops his hip out and strikes a flamboyant pose. “I’m not just the president. I’m also a member.”
Finley, Brody, and I all burst into giggles at his ridiculousness. I laugh even harder when I see Frank seriously coiffing his red hair and completely ignoring our fit of laughs. These people…this house…it’s magic.
After a full day hanging out at Hyde Park with Frank, I’ve laughed more than I think I ever have in my entire life. He convinces me to get hand massages from this random pop up stand offering them for ten quid. I told him I thought it sounded dodgy but he pushed me into it, claiming we only live once.
He doesn’t press me for information. He doesn’t talk about Liam. He just offers his friendship. Unconditional. And comedic as hell. It’s a beautiful thing. And not something I’ve ever allowed myself to have since losing Marisa.
I’ve been MIA for so long now that I forgot what it felt like to let someone in. Watching Finley, Brody, Mitch, and Julie all banter back and forth comfortably is like nothing I’ve ever had. Not even before Marisa died. But the state of grief I’ve allowed myself to live in the last three years is toxic. Yes, I lost my best friend. But instead of grieving her loss, I only grieved my betrayal and how I never had the opportunity to ask for forgiveness. And worse, I suffered all of that alone. That’s a heavy secret to carry on your own. It’s no wonder I’ve been sinking.
But I’m done. I’m done sinking and falling. It’s time for a change.
After getting back into the groove at Club Taint for a couple of days, I’m pleased to find myself with Saturday night off. I’ve been twitching to reconnect with Hayden and make sure he’s doing okay, but my text messages have gone unanswered. I hate how we left it. I decide to text his sister to check in on him.
Me: Hey, Daph. Hayden is MIA again. Have you talked to him?
Daphney: I saw him a couple days ago. He looked pretty rough. We have the charity ball tonight. He told Theo he wasn’t coming…but he told me he was. So I’ll let you know if I see him.
Me: Oh, that’s right. Thanks, Daphney. Keep me posted. Xx
Daphney: Always.
I completely forgot that tonight is the charity gala the Clarkes host every year benefiting suicide awareness. I know this night is always difficult for Hayden. I offered to attend with him last year, but he said he didn’t want me to witness the dreary affair. Hayden’s mother, Winnie, is a sweet woman who I know is just trying to find the best way to help her son.
However, Hayden is still in denial about his suicide attempts. I think he sees it all more as self-destructive behavior—not a premeditated motive to kill himself. So my hope tonight is that he’s just busy and not spiraling into a scary place that I know he’s been before.
I decide to shoot one more text to Hayden.
Me: Hey. I know tonight is the gala. If you need me, I’m here. I’m always here for you, Hayden. You’re my best friend. None of that has changed. xoxo
At around seven o’clock that night, the buzzer on my flat goes off. I gaze out my kitchen window to find Hayden there looking up at me sadly. His balance sways and I can tell even four floors above him that he’s drunk. Still, my heart breathes a sigh of relief seeing his face again. I rush in to buzz him up.
I wait at the door and as soon as he appears around the corner I instantly run and slam into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. My face buries into his chest and the familiar faint smell of alcohol and cigarettes invades my nostrils. He doesn’t hug me back at first, just stands there. Eventually, begrudgingly even, he sighs and wraps his arms around me.
I pull back after a bit and see he’s dressed in a rumpled black tuxedo. “You look nice,” I say feeling tears prick the back of my eyeballs.
He nods silently and releases me to walk into my flat. His icy demeanor scares me and I can sense something big coming. He ambles into the kitchen and starts digging in my cupboards. He pulls out an old bottle of tequila.
“That’s old, Hayden. I haven’t touched that stuff in years.”
He grabs a water glass and pours an inch of the golden liquid inside. He leans back on the counter with the glass in his hand, raises it to me, and shoots it down in one gulp.
“Hay,” my tone is warning.
He cocks his head to the side. “I’ve always loved the way you say my name. Even when you can’t be bothered to say the whole thing…it’s sexy.”
Nerves bubble in my belly. “I’ve been texting you the last couple of days. I wanted to talk.” He nods simply and pours another shot. “Are you sure you should do that?” I ask and his cloudy eyes harden on mine.
“Let’s not pretend that you care about anybody but yourself, Reyna, shall we?”
His words sting. “What the fuck? How can you say that?” I move to touch him and he flinches away from me.
Then he begins laughing. Really, heartily laughing. “You fuck my dead sister’s boyfriend and then you have the nerve to look shocked by my words?”
My jaw drops. I’m stunned, both at his harsh words and the fact that he’s talking about Marisa. “Hayden. Liam and I…We have history.”
He purses his lips sarcastically. “So this isn’t the first time you’ve fucked him? That’s so much better. Tell me…Were Marisa and Liam together when you fucked him for the first time?”
My face apparently gives Hayden the answer he was suspecting and he laughs at me again. My vision blurs with tears. “Stop, Hayden. I’m just trying to be better.”
“And leave me in the dust.”
“Hayden. You and I…”
“We don’t work…Is that right? Is that what you’re going to tell me right now?” He leans down and pins me with a death stare. “You can’t hang out with me anymore. You can’t fuck me anymore…because you’re better than me. You won’t live in my darkness anymore. Some fucking friend you are!”
I clutch my hands to my chest and the tears come fast and fierce. Overwhelmed and completely enraged, I scream, “Hayden, you’re my best friend but if you’re going to drown me, I need to fucking know! I’m already doing a shit job at life by myself, I don’t need help sinking. I have my own damn demons to fight. Don’t project your guilt on me!” I shriek angrily.
“My guilt?” He stands straight and drops his chin in horror. “What do I have to be guilty for? Oh…Are you talking about the fact that I was the one who killed Marisa? Is that what you mean?”
; Fear slices through me at his cold, calculated stare. “No,” I cry. “God, Hayden!”
“Go on, Rey, say it. Shout if you like. I was the one driving the quad that struck Marisa.” His voice cracks on her name and my heart completely shatters when his face crumples into confused pain. He keeps going, “I was the one behind the wheel. I was the one who watched her body fly away from me. I was the one who lay there…in the grass…my own leg broken…but I still knew. I knew what I had done. I knew I killed her. Even before the paramedics announced that she was DOA. You have her time of death stamped on your fucking skin but I’m the one who felt her die. I felt her leave this earth. Do you have any idea—”
“Hayden, stop! Please!” I grab my wrist to cover the pocket watch ink Hayden’s referring to. Devastated by his words, I crumple down to the floor at the tragedy being retold with such vulgarity. Hayden was the driver, but it wasn’t the quad that killed Marisa. It was the concrete paver she fell backwards on top of. But that doesn’t mean shit when your impact was the one that sent her flying backwards.
Hayden and I were two fucked up crazies that fucked each other. We fucked to feel. We fucked to not feel. We fucked away the deepest, darkest parts of each other’s mind. And we knew we were lowly, pathetic POS: Pieces of shit. DOA: Dead on arrival. That’s what we were to each other. And that was all we’d ever be to each other. Which was why I was trying so desperately to break away from our routine. Get past the tragedy. The despair. The depression.
His voice cuts into my inner turmoil and growls with emotion. “I killed her then. And I’m killing you now. Death becomes me, Reyna. I’m killing everyone close to me because I’m a toxic, poisonous, nothingness.”
“Hayden,” I bawl and stand up to run to him as he tries to leave. He grips my shoulders, his hands harsh and bruising, holding me as far away from him as possible. “Please, Hayden, you’re my best friend. Don’t do this. I love you.”
“Love,” he laughs. “That’s a funny word coming from your mouth. You don’t even love yourself.”
His words crush me and I stop fighting him. He lets me go and stumbles down the hallway and out the door. I drop to my knees and cry at his final words.
