Only Mostly Devastated

by Sophie Gonzales

  Will would laugh at me and call me goth if he saw me, because I was probably filling all those existential stereotypes right now, but seriously, what was the point? What was the point? Of any of this? If we were all going to just vanish at a moment’s notice, why bother even trying while we were alive? It’s not like we’d be able to remember any of it once we were dead.

  I kicked off my shoes, brought my knees up to my chest, and tuned back in to the movie.

  A part of me expected the kids to ask me questions about the afterlife, like if that’s where their mom was, and if she was a skeleton now, or something. But they didn’t. They were weirdly quiet. Like, weirdly quiet. Crista, who never took a break, just stared at the TV. Or, really, she stared through the TV with glazed-over eyes, snuggled into her bright pink beanbag.

  Dylan, sitting in a beanbag covered in pictures of Thomas the Tank Engine, was clutching a bottle without drinking out of it. I sat up, confused. Since when did he ditch glasses and mugs? “Hey, Dyl. I haven’t seen that bottle in a while.”

  “It’s my bottle.”

  “Yeah, I remember it.”

  “My bottle.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “You can’t have it.”

  “That’s fine. I don’t want it.”

  “You can’t have it. It’s my bottle. IT’S MY BOTTLE, I WANT IT, IT’S NOT YOURS!” he screeched, curling up into a ball on his beanbag. Crista barely glanced at him. “IT’S MY BOTTLE! MY BOTTLE, MY BOTTLE!”

  Oh shit. “Dylan, yeah, it’s your bottle. I’m no—”

  “DON’T TAKE IT!”

  “I’m not!”

  “IT’S NOT YOUR BOTTLE, OLLIE! NOT, IT’S NOT, IT’S NO—” He broke off and started full-blown wailing, screaming the room down and summoning a demon from the pits of Hades’s lair.

  I hopped to the floor and went over to try to calm him down. “Hey, hey, Dyl, it’s okay.”

  He swiped at me with the bottle. “NO! NO!”

  “I’m not—”

  He threw the bottle at me, and it hit me square in the forehead. Nearly knocked me the hell out, too. “Dylan!”

  In response, he roared at me, his little face purple with rage. I held the bottle out to him and he knocked it out of my hand and started kicking in the air, screaming as loudly as he could.

  Crista kept watching the movie like this wasn’t even happening.

  I stood up, helpless, and Uncle Roy came into the room. I was about to explain, but he didn’t look surprised at all. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, picking up a still-kicking-and-screaming Dylan. “It’s time for your nap.”

  “NONONONON—”

  “Yes. Say good night to Ollie and Crista.”

  “—ONONONONONO—”

  “Good night, Ollie. Good night Crista.”

  Dylan’s screams faded as he was carried unceremoniously out of the room.

  “Good,” Crista said without looking up. “He was hurting my ears.”

  I sat back down on the couch, my own ears ringing. “Sounds like he’s missing your mom.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How are you doing? Are you feeling okay?”

  She looked up now. It was clear from her face that she was irritated with me. She cocked her head. “Ollie, I can’t hear the movie.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  So we watched it in silence. We were both handling it pretty well, until the part where the kid sings the gut-wrenching song to his abuela about remembering people who have passed. Then I lost it.

  At least I had the good sense to excuse myself from the room, though, so, specifically, I lost it in the hallway. I pressed my back against the wall and sank to the floor, crying as quietly as I could. I didn’t want to be here in this house knowing Aunt Linda would never be in it again. It was her house. We came here when we visited her. It’d been her house my whole life. This wasn’t right. None of it was right.

  Someone sat down beside me. Mom. I hadn’t even heard her come in.

  “Hi, my gorgeous man,” she said. “Not doing so well?”

  I sniffed and shrugged without meeting her eye.

  “It’s hard being here, huh?” she asked. I nodded, and my chin started shaking as I tried to hold the sobs in. “It’ll get easier. That’s the beautiful thing about the universe. It puts you through trials, but it never gives you anything you can’t handle. We grow from these things.”

  I let my head hit the wall and rolled it around so I could meet her eyes. “Mom. This didn’t happen to teach us all a lesson and help us to grow.”

  She darkened. “Ollie, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “This isn’t beautiful. It’s ugly, and pointless. That’s the thing, Mom. There was no point. She’s dead, and there’s nothing fair about it. She had one life, and it’s done, and that’s it for her, and that’s it for us. It didn’t make anything better that she died. How can you still believe there’s meaning to all of this? What, what you think something out there in the universe looked down from the clouds and found our family and said, ‘Hmm, you know what? Fuck this family in particular.’ Crista and Dylan don’t get a mom anymore, and Uncle Roy lost the person he loves, and she doesn’t get to ever be old, and there is no. Reason. For. It. It was just a waste. The end. Sorry if I’m not happy about it.”

  She stared at me, and something in my stomach tumbled. “You think I’m happy about this?” she asked in disbelief. “She was my sister. She was my baby sister.”

  All my steam ran out at once, and I wilted against the wall. “Mom …”

  She went to speak, then she shook her head, got to her feet with a frustrated grunt, and walked away from me.

  I made it through the first day back at school okay. Or, at least, I made it through the morning. No breakdowns, no freak-outs, no terrified contemplations of my own mortality.

  The girls were appropriately gentle with me when I came back. Even Lara didn’t have any sassy digs. Just lots of questions about how I’d been, and a fair bit of concern. I’d been ignoring the majority of their texts all week. Ditto for the one condolence text each sent by Hayley and Ryan. Conversation just seemed to take up so much energy. Energy I didn’t have.

  At lunch I went to the music room instead of the cafeteria. Juliette had seemed disappointed when I rushed past her to grab a slice of pizza to go, but what could you do? Even though I’d made it through, the effort of being okay and engaged all morning had been more exhausting than I’d realized. I’d thought I was okay to come back to school, but that didn’t mean I could dive straight back in with no adjustments. A little alone time wouldn’t be amiss.

  When I grabbed the bass guitar, though, I realized I didn’t feel like playing. I just wanted silence. So instead, I flopped onto the floor with my back against the wall, pulled the bass guitar into my lap, and drummed my fingers on the body.

  It was nice to be somewhere quiet. I loved the girls, but I just wasn’t close enough with them to be sad. Sure, I could be a downer for a day or two, but what if it took longer than a day or two? What if I was down for weeks, or months? What if I was never chirpy again? What if I needed to glare, and snap, and be lost in my thoughts? What if I just needed to cry?

  Alone in here, I could be any of that. I could feel every negative, terrible, aching feeling at once, and I didn’t have to be self-conscious about it or try to put on a mask so someone else didn’t feel dragged down.

  But now that I had the freedom to cry, I couldn’t make myself.

  Someone had put a new poster on the wall to join the other inspirational quotes. MUSIC COURSES THROUGH OUR VEINS, FROM THE SMALLEST ANT TO THE LARGEST WHALE, it proclaimed in enormous, scarlet comic sans font. In the background was what I assumed to be a Photoshopped image of an ant about to be stepped on by an elephant’s foot. Either the dimensions were all off, though, or it was some kind of mutant superhero ant, because it was almost the size of one of the elephant’s toenails.

  Literally, what the hell did that quote even mean, though? A
nd why was it paired with an image of an ant about to die?

  Guess the music that flowed through its veins was a funeral march.

  I almost laughed at my astonishing wit, but then I started thinking about the music at Aunt Linda’s funeral, and the laugh slipped away.

  There was movement at the side of the room, and I looked over to find Will entering. I hadn’t seen him much since the night I’d driven to his house. He gave me an unsure smile. “Hey. Can I come sit with you?”

  I patted the floor next to me. “Come in.”

  He lowered himself to the ground and crossed his legs like a kindergartener. “How are you doing?”

  He meant well, but holy hell did I not want to talk about it. I’d spent so much time speaking about the death, and how terrible I felt, and how pointless all this bullshit was. At home I felt like I couldn’t talk about much else. But I had nothing new to say. Repeating myself wasn’t helping anymore. For once, just for once, I wanted to talk about something meaningless.

  “Hey Will?” I said instead. “Do you think ants have hearts?”

  He studied me for a long time. “I … haven’t ever thought about it.”

  “Well, it’s just the poster there talks about ant veins, and veins usually bring blood to hearts, right?”

  He looked where I pointed. “That is a really depressing picture.”

  “Right? Oh my God, it’s not just me. I think it’s the most unmotivating motivational poster I’ve ever seen.”

  “You could say it’s an uninspirational poster. Also, why ants? If we’re going from smallest to largest, you can go way smaller than ants. What about ticks? Or bacteria?”

  “Bacteria don’t have veins, I guess.”

  “Honestly, Ollie, I don’t think ants do, either. I really don’t.”

  I couldn’t help but start to smile at that. “Oh no, I think you’re right.”

  “Do they? Now I don’t even know. Hold on, I’m googling this shit.”

  I giggled and put my guitar on the ground next to me, then leaned over to look at Will’s phone. He opened an article and scrolled down the page. “And it’s a no,” he said. “No veins. No blood.”

  “Hey, no, they have blood.”

  “Yeah, colorless weird fluid. Not the same thing.”

  “You can’t go around erasing insect blood because it isn’t the same as yours.”

  “Watch me.”

  I tipped my head to one side and fiddled with my necklace, a grin still lingering on my lips. Even though I felt a little guilty for laughing, it felt good. So, so good. “Did you come here to check on me?”

  “Eh, yes and no. I figured you probably wanted some space, so I wouldn’t have usually come by, but I actually wanted your advice on something.”

  Interesting. “Yeah?”

  “So, Lara’s always seemed at least a little into Matt. But then apparently she was into Renee. So I’m wondering what’s going on there?”

  I mean, it wasn’t exactly what I’d expected. I stuck out my bottom lip and thought about the best response. Lara had told me she liked Matt in confidence, so I didn’t want to give that up. But maybe I could still play Cupid.

  Before I could speak, though, Will groaned. “God, I’m such an idiot. Sorry, you must think I’m being ridiculous right now. You have bigger shit going on than who Lara likes.”

  Well, kind of. But it was such a nice distraction from all the bigger shit. “No, seriously, it’s fine. She was into Renee, but I’m pretty sure that’s all over. Why do you ask?”

  “Because Matt thinks she’s a lesbian.”

  Oh. “Nope. She’s bi.”

  “Right, I thought she might be,” Will said. “Matt’s had a thing for Lara for ages now, but I think he thinks there’s no point anymore.”

  “Oh, I’d say there’s plenty point.”

  Will bumped my shoulder. “How would you feel about explaining that to Matt?”

  “Me? What, now?”

  “Yeah? He’d believe it coming from you. I don’t think they see me as the resident expert on identities, you know?”

  On the one hand, I’d been enjoying myself in here. And even more so with Will for company. I’d take sitting in here talking absolute nonsense with him over heading back out to the crowded, noisy cafeteria. Or, at least, I usually would. But a not-so-small part of me really wanted to help Lara out. Because maybe I kind of really liked her now, and maybe I kind of really wanted her to know I’d done something for her.

  “All right,” I said, hopping up and holding out a hand. “Let’s do it quick, though. The bell’s about to go off.”

  Will took my hand and let me pull him to his feet.

  The basketball guys were sitting at their own table today. Without the girls to break them up, it was basically a sea of black-and-white jackets. Suddenly joined by me in my new salmon sweater and tan skinny jeans, here to break up the monochrome. I’d chosen the sweater that morning because it felt like it’d cheer me up to wear something other than black and khaki this week. Did it work? Not … really. No.

  “Hey, what’s up, Ollie?” Matt asked. He was giving me an expectant look, though. I guessed Will had told him why he went off to find me. Well, no point beating around the bush. Besides, if I told him what was really up with me, it’d probably make the whole vibe uncomfortable and depressing. So.

  “Do you like Lara?” I asked.

  A few of the guys snickered and tittered, but Darnell shot them a warning look and they shut right up. Matt shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, but it’s whatever. She’s into girls, so, that’s cool, you know?”

  “She’s into guys, too.”

  He gave me a quizzical look. “I thought she was a lesbian now, though?”

  “She’s bisexual. If she’s with a girl that doesn’t make her a lesbian. She’s still bi no matter who she’s dating.”

  Matt nodded slowly, and the tiniest, most secret smile crossed his lips. “So, are you saying she might be into me?”

  “I’m saying I think checking in with her is probably a good idea. She might be a little pissed that you’ve been giving her the cold shoulder, though, just a heads up.”

  Darnell and Matt shared a quick smile. “You’re in, man,” Darnell said, holding up a fist for Matt to bump while the other guys laughed and made catcall noises.

  Will watched them with an intense look, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed together in a thin line. I couldn’t read his expression.

  “Oh, also?” I said, this time looking right at Darnell. “You need to stop with the back-and-forth stuff. It’s not cool. Either you want to be with Niamh, or you don’t, but don’t pretend you’re just coming over to the table because you had a question about homework.”

  Darnell opened his mouth but didn’t manage to spit anything out. Will used his hand like a megaphone around his mouth. “Called out.”

  As for me, I was impressed with myself. When did I get so brave?

  I guessed the last couple of weeks had changed me. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so terrifying to look stupid in front of a group of guys who, for the most part, didn’t mean much to me. Other than Will, anyway, and I knew he wouldn’t judge me for it. There were worse things that could happen than being a little embarrassed.

  And life was too short to play chicken with something as important as the person you loved.

  21

  “You leave in an hour,” I said.

  Will, who had his head resting against my bare chest, tilted his head up to look at me. “Hmm.”

  “One hour, Will.”

  He made a face and traced a finger along my stomach. Our skin was dry now. If you didn’t know it, you wouldn’t have been able to tell we’d been in the lake thirty minutes earlier.

  “Willyou walk me back to mine?” he asked.

  “You want me to sneak out of my own house at four in the morning, walk you around the other end of the lake, then sneak back into my house?”

  “… Yes?”

  “O
f course I will. Don’t know why you felt you had to ask.”

  It took us longer than it probably should’ve to get dressed— mostly because Will kept rudely interrupting the process to kiss my legs, and stomach, and arms one last time before I covered them back up—but eventually we managed to get ourselves looking kind of presentable. We slipped outside fairly easily, thanks to my silent front door, and then started walking. My legs felt like they belonged to a turtle. Everything weighed so much more than it should’ve.

  It had gone too fast. All of this had gone too fast.

  “Do you have to go?” I asked.

  “Do you?” he shot back.

  “Please visit.”

  He grabbed onto my wrist and stopped me from going any farther. “Seriously, we need to make a promise now, okay? One of us will make sure we visit the other as soon as we can.”

  “Okay.”

  “We can’t just say it, though, we have to do it. I don’t want this to be over. Maybe it doesn’t have to be, right?”

  I shrugged. I just didn’t know the answer to that.

  “We need to stay in touch. We need to keep talking, and we’ll figure something out. Maybe I can get down there for spring break or something. Or maybe you’ll come back to visit your aunt, and we can organize to meet up somewhere.”

  I had a horrible feeling I was about to cry. All I could do was give a short nod.

  Will cupped my face with one of his hands and stared at me with serious brown eyes. “Please don’t lose contact, okay? I need to see you again.”

  “Did you know your heartbeat changes rhythm when you listen to faster or slower music?” Will asked.