The Art of Losing

by Lizzy Mason

  I nodded as relief and guilt collided.

  Dr. Talia crossed her legs and leaned toward me. “Rafael may be an addict, and he may relapse again, but the real test will be to see what he does with it. He may have changed in the short-term, but the proof will be if he can go back to the program, stick with it, work the twelve steps, and make long-term changes.”

  I saw now why Raf liked going to therapy. It gave a person permission to feel exactly the way they were feeling. There was nothing wrong with having doubts about how I’d handled things with Raf and Mike and Audrey, nothing wrong about the fear that I might want to change who I was but didn’t know how, nothing wrong with wanting to believe Raf could change, too.

  “What is it that you want to change about yourself?” Dr. Talia asked.

  Right, I thought. This is where it gets difficult. I wasn’t even sure where to begin.

  “I guess . . . I don’t even know. I just want to be more . . . me. I want to stand up for myself and say what I’m feeling when I’m feeling it.”

  Dr. Talia nodded. “Sometimes it’s hard to identify those feelings in the moment, though. So I have an exercise I want you to try.”

  Oh, good, homework. I was good at homework.

  “I want you to think back on situations where you had strong feelings, good or bad, and write down those memories. Identify what you felt then and what you might realize now. I think you’ll see that it’s not always easy to react to a situation while you’re in it. Sometimes sisters are mean to each other for no reason. Sometimes things take time to sink in. Sometimes we have to build up the courage to do what’s right or stand up for ourselves.”

  I nodded. Raf would be happy to know that I’d be writing. Except . . . he didn’t want to talk to me.

  I bit my lip to keep from crying, but Dr. Talia wasn’t buying it and pushed a tissue box across her desk to me.

  “We’ve got a lot to unpack here,” she said. “Are you free to come back next week at the same time?”

  I was, of course, and I was willing, but I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. I knew I had issues, but hearing it, crying about it, talking about all the things I’d been bottling up—it took a lot out of me. I was exhausted as I left the cozy comfort of Dr. Talia’s office. And I spent the rest of the afternoon in bed.

  Mom and I were visiting Audrey the next day to pick up her dirty laundry and deliver clean clothes. I’d snuck in some junk food, which wasn’t prohibited by the rehab center, but by Mom. She spent about an hour tidying up around the room, stacking books and putting clothes away. She didn’t seem to know what to do with herself now that Audrey was improving and didn’t need her as much.

  Finally, she ran out of pretend projects. Audrey and I had barely glanced up from the movie we were watching while she shuffled around, so Mom made the right call when she physically shut it off in order to talk to us.

  “I have to go do some work. Your dad will be by before dinner,” she said. “Harley, do you plan to leave soon, too?”

  I shook my head. “No, if it’s okay with Audrey, I’ll stick around for a little while.”

  Audrey nodded, so Mom kissed us both and left.

  “I have a confession,” I said, pausing the movie. It was a superhero movie I had been begging her to watch, and though she was trying, she didn’t seem as interested as I’d hoped she would be.

  “What?” she said warily.

  “I watched some of your favorite movies while you were in the coma.” I named a few of the ones we’d watched “together” and Audrey’s smile turned to a round O of surprise.

  “You?” she said. “The girl who won’t even watch Love Actually with me at Christmas?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Half of that movie sucks,” I said. “And I’m not watching the crappy parts just so I can get to the scene with ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You.’”

  She shook her head. “You’re just so wrong,” she said.

  “My point is,” I said, “that you were right. Some of them are really good. And I’m sorry I made fun of you for watching them.”

  She barked a sharp laugh and then insisted I tell her which ones I liked the most. I listed off a few of my favorites, and she made me tell her which scenes I liked.

  “Is that why you decided to go out with Raf?” she asked after grilling me. She had a knowing smile. “Because you were inspired by all the love stories?”

  “How did you know about Raf?” I said.

  She looked guilty. “Mom,” she said. “She told me you guys were ‘spending time together.’”

  I tried to hide the smile that crept onto my face, but she saw it and pointed at me with a knowing grin. “You like him,” she said.

  “I do,” I said. “But we’re not together.”

  “Why not?” she said.

  I held in the sigh that I wanted to release and debated how much to tell her. I didn’t want to burden her, but I also couldn’t explain why his relapse hurt so much without telling her about Mike and his cheating.

  “It’s too soon,” I said instead.

  “You mean after Mike?” she said. I nodded. “Harley, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course,” I answered.

  “Was it because of me?” she asked, her voice small. “You and Mike breaking up, I mean.”

  My heart beat loudly in my chest while I wondered if she had finally remembered what had really happened the night of the accident. Mom and Dad had been honest with her about the fact that she’d been in a car with Mike and that he was drunk. The doctors said that it was best to tell her as much as we thought she could handle, in case it triggered memories. It hadn’t—Audrey still couldn’t remember any of the events of that night—but at least if she did ever remember what she did, maybe it wouldn’t be as much of a shock.

  But then she added, “Did you break up because of the accident?”

  “No,” I said. “We broke up because of him. He was an asshole. And I was planning to dump him for a while before he ever got into that accident. And he probably knew that when he got drunk that night.”

  “Right,” Audrey said. “I forgot.” She shook her head slowly, sadness engulfing her like a fog. “I’ve lost a whole year. And I’m losing more every day that I’m in here.” She hit the railing on her bed with a clenched fist.

  I moved to sit on her bed, facing her. “I know this sucks. So much,” I said. “But you will work to get your life back. You’re too stubborn not to.”

  Audrey nodded. She was silent, but I could tell she was feeling a little better. She reached her arms out and I fell into them, hugging her until I felt like I might break her ribs.

  “You’re the stubborn one,” she said finally.

  I laughed as I released her. Just then, there was a knock on the door and Neema walked in. She saw Audrey’s tears and turned on me.

  “What’s going on?” she said. She leaned in to give Audrey a hug and whispered something to her. Audrey shook her head, but Neema clearly didn’t believe her.

  “I think I’m going to go,” I said. “You guys hang out. Finish the movie if you want.”

  Audrey protested, but I waved her off.

  “It’s fine. I’ve had you to myself all day. Make some new memories with Neema.”

  Audrey reached for a bag of M&M’s. “Take these,” she said. “It may be good to get angry, like you said, but even after being in a coma, I still remember that chocolate makes everything seem better.”

  I laughed and kissed her goodbye.

  I nodded at Neema. She looked away.

  “Okay then,” I said. “Be that way.”

  But outside, as I reached my car, Neema was suddenly behind me. Her face was streaked with tears. She was breathing rapidly, as if her grief was so heavy that it was fighting for space with air inside her lungs. “Neema? What is it? What’s wrong? Is Audrey okay
?”

  She nodded, swallowing hard. “It’s not Mike’s fault, what happened between him and Audrey,” she blurted out. “It’s mine.”

  I ignored the leaden feeling in my gut. “What are you talking about?”

  Fresh tears streamed down Neema’s face. “I can’t believe she did that to me,” she choked out. “I thought her crush on him was just because he was your boyfriend and she always wanted everything you have.”

  I shook my head, bewildered. “What does this have to do with you?”

  Neema was trembling; she wouldn’t make eye contact. “I told Audrey that night that I loved her. Like, wanted to be with her. And instead of dealing with it, instead of telling me she didn’t feel the same way, she made out with your boyfriend.”

  I reeled back. I felt as if I’d been slapped. Of all the possible confessions, this was the last I expected to hear.

  “She was supposed to be with me,” Neema said quietly. “I thought she was finally falling for me. And then she hooked up with him instead.”

  “I didn’t realize,” I said lamely.

  “That I’m gay?” She rubbed her eyes and finally met my gaze. “Yeah, well, I am. And your sister never made me feel weird about it. But now she can’t remember shit because your asshole boyfriend almost got her killed.”

  “I’m really sorry, Neema,” I said. “I know you must feel betrayed. I do, too.”

  She bit her lip. It was clear she was fighting back anger and sadness. “I just wanted to say that I was sorry, for not telling you sooner,” she said. “And for leaving that night without doing anything to stop Audrey.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “I saw her drinking with him and then I saw them go upstairs and I followed . . . I saw her kiss him and I just lost it. I had to get out of there.”

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I know how much it hurts, believe me. But Audrey loves you—maybe not in the way you want her to, but she does love you. And I appreciate that you still want to be her friend. She needs you.”

  Neema nodded. She drew a shaky breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I know,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere. At least I know the truth about how she feels. And if she never remembers, the only way it can ruin our friendship is if I let it.”

  Right. My mind went to Raf, as usual.

  “I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t Mike who initiated what happened between him and Audrey,” Neema added. “It was Audrey. And it was because of me.”

  It dawned on me, finally, what she was really telling me. I’d been angry at Mike for so long, and I had forgiven Audrey. But now . . .

  “I’m not saying you should forgive Mike,” Neema clarified. Her voice was even. She pushed her thick hair off her shoulders while she spoke. She seemed lighter already, now that this secret was off her chest. “But I can tell how much it’s been weighing on you. You look more exhausted every time I see you. I just thought you should know the truth.”

  I tried to nod. My head felt like it was full of cotton.

  She smiled grimly and shrugged. “Anyway, thanks for listening. And I’m sorry again for . . . well, for everything.”

  “Me too,” I said quietly as she walked away.

  I lay in bed that evening thinking of Neema. It was hard enough being in love with someone you could never have. Audrey’s betrayal must have made it hurt so much more. But Neema was strong. She’d get through it. She already had the ability to say how she felt, out loud, to the person she loved. That night, she hadn’t let the fear of what Audrey might say or how she might react stop her. And she didn’t run away from the possibility of being hurt—whether it was now or in the future.

  I should have told Raf how I felt. But I didn’t have the same strength that Neema did.

  At least Mike hadn’t been the one who initiated their kiss. On the other hand, he hadn’t told me about Audrey pursuing him. I thought he would have at least tried to use that to get me to forgive him . . .

  I was exhausted from running laps in my mind. I didn’t want to be alone, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Raf, and I couldn’t call him. This was an emergency. Which meant I knew exactly who to call.

  It was time for Cassidy.

  Five Years Ago

  We sat under an umbrella at a table near the snack bar, sitting next to each other so we could both be in the shade. My skin was dry from the chlorine, and my bathing suit was damp because I wouldn’t walk around without my towel covering me. The shouts of other kids in the pool rang in my ears.

  Cassidy gave me one of her Reese’s Cups, cold from the snack bar freezer, and I poured half of my Coke into a cup for her.

  “Who was working at the snack bar?” I asked. I had been saving our seats while she got the snacks, and now I craned my neck to see the snack bar behind her. Because I knew who was working. We both did.

  Cassidy and I had spent the majority of the summer in these seats watching the same guy: Matthew Sanders. He wasn’t a lifeguard, not chiseled and tan from days in the sun. He was more attainable. Tall, thin, with glasses. When there wasn’t a line, he’d read behind the counter. And not summer reading books for school. Actual novels by authors I’d never heard of.

  “He was there,” she said.

  “How did he look?”

  “So hot.” She grinned. “Go and get another cup or some napkins,” she said. “Tell him I said hi.”

  I rolled my eyes, but only to hide my nerves as I stood and walked toward the snack bar. The condiment station was right next to the counter and I timed my arrival at the moment that he returned to the register with a customer’s soda.

  “Can I have a cup, please?” I said, hating the way my voice sounded high and squeaky.

  Matt smiled, said, “Sure,” and handed me a cup. I grabbed a stack of napkins, spun around, and walked as quickly as possible back to the table. I collapsed into a pile of giggles next to Cassidy, and she prodded me until I told her what had happened.

  “He smiled at me!” I squealed, and her mouth dropped open jealously.

  Neither of us had ever said more to him than giving our orders. But if we had, if he had ever liked either one of us, we would have had no idea what to do. Aside from my kiss with Raf years before, neither of us had any experience with boys.

  But our crush on Matt brought us closer. We spent all day together, all summer, at a time when we were quickly becoming different people. When she was growing tired of hearing me talk about comics, and I was growing tired of hearing about her friends on the yearbook. We should have been growing apart, but Cassidy and I clung to each other, refusing to drift apart, like sleeping otters.

  And we made it through high school without losing sight of each other. It was practically a miracle.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I texted Cassidy in the middle of the night, asking her to come by before her opening shift. She let herself into the house using the hide-a-key we kept on the porch and walked upstairs without waking anyone. I’d finally fallen asleep near dawn, so I only stirred when she slipped her shoes off and curled up next to me in bed, taking my hand under the comforter.

  “What happened?” she asked softly.

  My eyes were dry and cloudy from being awake late into the night. And now, they were blurry with tears, too.

  “Neema told me something about that night of the accident,” I said. I tried not to breathe on her since I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet. My mouth tasted like I’d licked a dirty sandbox. “She told Audrey she loved her.”

  Cassidy sat up. “Wait, really?” she asked.

  “Do you think Audrey initiated what happened between her and Mike as a way to make it clear that she wasn’t interested in Neema?”

  Cassidy shook her head slowly, sifting through the information. “It’s possible,” she said. “Would it be easier for you to forgive Audrey if that’s what happened?”

  I sighed
. “I don’t know. I thought I had forgiven her. But now . . .”

  “I get it,” she said. “It was one thing when he kissed her, but knowing it was the other way around? That has to hurt.”

  And it did. But I also felt myself understanding why she might have done it. Audrey knew nothing about relationships. She only knew grand romantic gestures like the ones she saw in the romantic comedies she watched. And she knew the massive mistakes the characters made that led to those big moments of reconciliation.

  We were quiet for a minute, sitting side by side.

  “So, knowing all of this,” Cassidy asked, “do you forgive Mike now?”

  The heat that flared in my chest gave me my answer. “No,” I said, my voice cold. “I’m tired of trying to forgive him. I’ve spent years forgiving him, over and over again. Even if Audrey threw herself at him, how could he have cheated on me with her? She’s my sister. What kind of monster does that?”

  “The insecure kind, I think,” Cassidy said. “I mean, it sounds like he had a really hard time being alone. Like he needed someone to constantly reassure him. And you weren’t doing that anymore.”

  I knew she wasn’t blaming me, that she was trying to help, but I still felt guilty. God, I was so tired of feeling guilty.

  “You know, he was always self-conscious about his weight.” I sighed. I hated talking about weight, even when it wasn’t my own. “I always assumed that was why he could overlook my flaws.”

  Cassidy squeezed my hand, but she’d learned not to argue with me when I talked about things I hated about myself.

  “He told me that he had low self-esteem, so I guess he wanted the attention. But he was always doing something stupid, always making an ass of himself, without seeming to care. He seemed like he had plenty of confidence.”