Because I wanted love when I knew I didn’t deserve it.
And now, I’ll never deserve it.
I am the evil thing.
I am the darkest dragon who ate the saddest princess.
My thoughts are rudely interrupted by Gran’s finger flicking my forehead.
“I can hear the cogs in your brain turning. Don’t go down that road. That’s arrogant. You think too much of yourself, and your effect on people. If she went and killed herself she did it because her life was miserable, and she’d thought about it for ages, not because you did one little thing.”
“But I contributed. I –”
Gran leans back in her bed and huffs, pulling the cover over her. “I’m not gonna argue with you when you’re all wrapped up in self-pity, you hear? Come back when you’re thinking clearly. I wanna talk to my granddaughter, not a silly martyr who’s trying to take all the blame.”
I go quiet. Gran must realize how rare an occasion this is, because she sighs.
“I’m sorry, kiddo. I know it’s hard. But you’re making it harder on yourself.” She leans up and kisses me on the cheek. “Come back at nine. The nurse lights the fire then.”
A small, grim smile tugs at my lips.
The drive home is all dark roads and a pale, gold-white gibbous moon hammocking the horizon. The same color as Sophia’s hair. I hear her voice clearly in my head.
‘You tried to help. You tried to help, and for that I can never thank you enough.’
I drive back to the nursing home at nine, and Gran and I park our butts in lawn chairs, with sunglasses and lemonade, and wait for nine o’ clock.
And nine comes, and the chimney spews fireworks – oranges and blues and greens incinerating the clouds. Gran laughs and toasts the sky – toasts her dead friend. I lean back in the chair and smile.
It’s good to be alive.
-4-
3 Years
44 Weeks
6 Days
Sometimes when life kicks you in the ass, you have to kick it back.
In the nuts.
With steel-toed boots.
Essentially, if someone, anyone, kicks you, it is very mature to take the high-road and not kick them back. But it’s not fun. And I’m all about fun. One hundred percent fun. One fundred percent.
I smirk at my own pun. One pundred percent. My father groaning across the breakfast table is the only indication that I’ve been thinking out loud for the past five minutes.
“Isis, eat your food,” He pleads.
“No, Dad, I gotta go,” I stand up quickly from my chair. The twins pelt each other with oatmeal.
“You’ll sit down and eat your breakfast with the rest of us, Isis, or so help me –”
“Where are you going?” Kelly interrupts him and smiles sweetly at me.
“Home.”
Kelly’s eyes light up at the prospect. Dad’s darken.
“Isis, your ticket doesn’t have you going back until the 30th –”
“Dad,” I whine. “My friend died and I gotta go kick life in the nuts.”
“We’re all going to die,” One of the twins pauses in her oatmeal-throwing to say, her bright blonde braids contrasting her blue eyes as she blinks, once.
“Exactly!” I motion at her. “See, Dad? She gets it!”
Dad’s face turns red in his about-to-explode manner, when Kelly grabs his arm and coos.
“Oh, darling, she must be so eager to start college. Remember when we were that age? I was so excited to leave the house and get on with my life! She’s just feeling that good old independence bug. Delta loves me – I’m a gold flier. They’ll let me change the date for nothing.”
Dad lets out a frustrated sigh, his red face going with it. “Aren’t you – aren’t you happy here? This was supposed to be your summer vacation, with me. I haven’t seen you in two years, Isis. Two years.”
“I’m having loads of fun here,” I lie vigorously. “And I’m gonna miss you.” Another lie. I don’t even know you. “I’m just, you know. Like Kelly said. I’m ready to go!”
Dad eyes me over his glasses, and after what feels like eternity, sighs. Kelly smiles. I’ve won. As I pack my bags, I realize there’s really nothing for me here except borrowed BMWs, and a family that was never really mine. And it took me seventeen years to figure that out.
‘You really are slow, aren’t you?’
The voice echoes, so clear I’d swear Jack was standing nearby. But there’s no one there. A lopsided picture of Kelly and Dad stares at me through the open doorway. There are no pictures of me anywhere in the house, not even as a kid.
I’m surrounded by people here, but I’m completely alone.
I snap my suitcase shut and sit on it.
I cry a little at the airport two days later. Dad doesn’t cry at all. This tells me everything I need to know about everything I never wanted to know. The airplane takes off and I helpfully throw peanuts at the bald guy in front of me who won’t stop farting. The stewardess thanks me with her eyes but then he gets up and goes to the bathroom and leaves the door open and we perish. For two hours.
Mom is waiting for me at baggage claim. I smell like man-farts but she hugs me anyway and that’s how I know I’m not alone anymore.
***
Packing for college is like packing for war. You’re not coming back. You don’t know what’s out there. There’s a chance you may die (exams) and/or suffer life-changing injuries (hangovers, STDs). And if you do come back, you’re lucky. But the enemy territory is just begging to be explored, and I’ve gotten all the training I need from basic (high school). I’ll be okay.
I can’t fit Ms. Muffin into my suitcase.
I’m not going to be okay.
Mom hears my wails of distress and comes like a tired hound to the slaughter.
“What’s wrong?” She asks.
“Everything is over forever!” I throw myself into my pillows. Mom waits patiently for a translation. I throw my finger towards Ms. Muffin, half-hanging out of the bursting suitcase.
“Isis, she’s a doll,” Mom sighs. “You’re going to college. Maybe it’s time to get rid of her.”
I sit bolt upright, my eyes as big as saucers and my mouth as big as a flying saucer. Mom corrects herself.
“Okay, okay. Ms. Muffin stays. But keep in mind; first impressions are everything, and the only people Ms. Muffin will impress are six-year-olds.”
“Precisely, madre. I don’t want to be friends with people who aren’t six. At heart. Only at heart. Because it’s also fun to legally drive.”
Mom shakes her head, laughing a little, and goes back downstairs to her pancakes.
I sneak into her bathroom with all the grace of an anime ninja and check her pill stock. She’s full up – antidepressants, mostly. It worries me because they make people kill themselves. But it also doesn’t worry me, because they stop people from killing themselves. It’s the shittiest fifty-fifty gamble in the world, but it’s all we have. It’s all that’ll keep Mom safe while I’m gone.
“What are you doing, Isis?”
I immediately slam the mirror shut. “Checking for rats! And mold. Both of which kill people. Did you know rats can leap over ten feet horizontally? And they always aim for the jugular.”