by Lizzy Mason
Cassidy fell silent for a moment. “You may not be one to throw stones here, Harley,” she said gently. “You have the same mix of low self-esteem and blinding confidence that Mike had. Except instead of making an ass out of yourself by getting drunk like he did, you just kind of tuck into yourself. You get lost in comics and movies and TV and you ignore the world, telling yourself you don’t need it.”
I knew she didn’t mean that as an insult. But knowing that didn’t make me feel any better about it.
“It’s just that sometimes . . . you can be a little intimidating,” Cassidy added. “You don’t always seem like you need people. And people like to be needed.”
“Maybe that’s why Raf drank again,” I said, almost to myself. “He said it was my fault.”
Cassidy’s eyebrows shot up. “He drank? And blamed you?” she said. “That’s bullshit!”
Her sudden anger somehow lessened mine, as if she took it and held it inside of her, shielding me from it.
“It’s not entirely bullshit though,” I said. “He knows that the only reason I won’t let myself fall for him is because I don’t trust him. And that’s making him feel bad about himself, so he drank. It’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
She thought quietly for a minute and then asked, “Would you rather just try to forget about him?”
The pain in my gut told me what I needed to know. “I don’t think so.”
“You told Will the same thing,” she said. “That we had to choose between not being together and quitting our jobs. So I told Samir that I quit The Flakey Pastry.”
“Wait, so it’s official? You and Will are together?”
She nodded with a dreamy smile on her face.
“That’s the best news!” I said, smiling back, genuinely happy for her, but a piece of me now dreaded going to work the next day. “Oh, man, Samir is going to be so pissed at me.”
“Nah, it’s okay,” she said with a dismissive wave. “The second I said I was leaving, he decided I could stay as long as Will and I are together. But if I dump him, I have to find my own replacement. Same goes for Will.”
“Oh, thank God,” I said. “I was worried I’d gotten my first strike.”
She laughed, but her expression quickly turned serious again. “Harley, I don’t want you to miss out on something that could be great because you’re scared.”
I put my hands over my face. “What if I’m too scared?”
Cassidy tugged one of my hands away until she could see an open eye. Then she scooted down until she was inches away from my face. “You can’t keep hiding, sweetie. You’ve spent all of high school hiding behind Mike. But you have to have a life, too. You have to get out of bed and see people and do things.”
“You sound like my mom,” I mumbled, but she was right. “And before . . . well, Raf was encouraging me to write again. And Dr. Talia, my new shrink, told me to keep a journal.” I was embarrassed to admit that I’d missed writing, that I felt passionate about it. It felt too personal to let people see me want something. Especially when it seemed so easy to fail. Especially since the last thing I’d wanted—Mike—had crushed me. But if anyone understood passion, it was Cassidy, joiner of a hundred after-school clubs.
“Maybe you should try then,” she said softly. “If so many people think it’s a good idea. Maybe even ask Connie if you can join the literary club.”
“Now you’re pushing it,” I said, but I was smiling.
“Don’t make me ask her for you.”
“You’d do that?”
She rested her head on my shoulder. “I’d do anything for you, stupid.”
I went back to sleep after Cassidy went to work, not waking until just before noon. Even though it was Sunday, the house was quiet, and I could tell that Mom and Dad were out. Mom, I assumed, was playing golf or visiting Audrey. Dad was almost certainly at the hospital doing rounds. Those visits to his patients usually took up most of his weekend mornings. So when the garage door opened, sheer curiosity pulled me out of bed. Floyd had barked, so I knew it had to be one of my parents since he paid little to no attention to strangers. He wasn’t a great guard dog.
Dad’s heavy footsteps gave him away before he’d even come through the door, so I was waiting for him when he walked in.
“Hey, kid,” he said, glancing at my pajamas with disdain. “You know it’s officially afternoon, right? You’re burning daylight!”
“Burning it how?” I asked. “Sleeping feels like a perfect way to spend the summer.”
Dad’s happy expression dropped for a second, and I could see the worry in his eyes. “How about lunch?” he said. “I know you won’t turn down a pastrami sandwich for breakfast.” He could tell by my pause that he had me, and his face broke into a smile. “That’s what I thought. Go get dressed.”
Dad drove with the top down on his convertible, and the wind tossed my hair into my face. I could feel my shoulders starting to burn within minutes but didn’t ask him to put the top up. After spending months indoors, I could use the tan. And probably the vitamin D.
At the deli, Dad pointed toward two seats at the counter despite the multiple open tables. He usually ate here alone on workdays, so maybe it was habit. Or maybe it was so he wouldn’t have to look at me when we had the awkward discussion I knew was coming. At least he was feeding me while he lectured.
After we ordered, he got right to business.
“So your mom told me about what Audrey and Mike did.”
I wasn’t surprised. Mom told Dad everything, like when Audrey and I got our periods or when she found out I was having sex and she took me to the doctor for birth control pills. He just usually didn’t let on that he knew. It was easier on us all that way.
“Pretty shitty thing to do, huh?” I said.
I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye, but I kept my gaze on the milkshake blender across the counter in front of us.
“I just wanted to make sure you know that not all relationships, not all men, are like Mike.” He cleared his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell Audrey about it?”
My head snapped sideways so I could look at him. “Do you think I should?”
He sighed. “I don’t know, kid. It’s your choice, but you have a tendency to bottle everything up and ignore it. And I just want you to know that you don’t have to do that. Not with this one. I don’t want a Hulk situation happening. I like you the size and color you are.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “She-Hulk is quite respectable, despite her green skin. Don’t be racist.”
Now Dad laughed. “Did I ever tell you who I would be if I could be a superhero?”
I shook my head.
“Aluminum Man. So I could foil crime.”
I groaned. “That was bad. One of your worst, I think.”
He smiled proudly to himself.
Luckily, our sandwiches arrived then, so he was too busy eating for a few minutes to tell any more jokes.
“So, how’s our friend Rafael?” Dad asked. “Has he figured anything out yet?”
“What do you mean?” I said, stealing an onion ring off his plate. He reciprocated by stealing a fry off mine.
“I mean, last you told me, he was trying to figure things out. And you two were just friends. So, how’s that going?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “He doesn’t want to see me anymore.”
“What?” he said. “Why?”
I took a bite of my sandwich so I had time to think. I didn’t know how much I could actually share with him without him getting uncomfortable with it. Or telling Raf’s parents. But I decided to chance it.
“Don’t tell Mom,” I said, pointing a French fry at him.
He nodded solemnly. Unlike Mom, he actually would keep a secret.
“Raf and I kissed, as you know, and I told him it was too soon for me
after Mike,” I said, my eyes glued to my sandwich. “And then he got drunk. And now he says it’s too soon for him.”
Dad was quiet, so I chanced a look at him. His face was completely neutral, and I could see how hard he was working to keep it that way.
“So?” I said. “You must have an opinion.”
He thought for a few more seconds. “My opinion is that you’re a smart cookie. You’re thoughtful, and you don’t often jump into things. So a little time to figure things out can’t hurt.”
My heart sank. I’d been hoping he would tell me just to go for it with Raf. I wanted permission to forget about his faults, to forget about the possibility that he might drink again. That he might break my heart.
“But Raf is a good kid,” he added. “I’ve always thought so. And from what I see, he and Mike are two very different people. But maybe Raf isn’t so sure that you know that.”
I glanced at him, surprised, but maybe Dad was right, and he needed to hear me say that. I opened my mouth to tell him how smart he was, but Dad had already moved on.
“So did you hear about the time the old man and his wife were pulled over by a state trooper?” he said.
“Nope,” I said, even though I had heard this joke at least four thousand times. “What happened?”
I texted Raf a few times throughout the afternoon, even going so far as to call him once, but he didn’t answer. And even though I knew that I should probably give him space, I didn’t want to. I was tired of pulling away and tired of not saying how I felt or doing things the way I wanted to.
So as the sun finally began to set, I walked through the backyard, up to his basement door, and knocked. My stomach tied itself into a crisp bow while I waited for him to answer. After a minute, the blinds twitched and he peered out at me. I could see his shadow shaking its head before he opened the door.
“Hey,” he said. He was in loose sweatpants and a T-shirt. There was paint smeared across his chest and along his arms.
“Hi.” I tried to take a step farther inside, but he didn’t back up. I got the message. “How are you?” I said cautiously.
He looked a little sheepish. “Okay. I spent a full day in bed. And then I went to a meeting. Picked up a twenty-four-hour chip. And I told Elaine that I was ready to work the steps. She’s going to be my sponsor again.”
I smiled, relieved. “That’s great, Raf. I’m really glad.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “About the other night. I shouldn’t have woken you up. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk. Or blamed you for it. There were a dozen reasons I got drunk, and this thing with us, it’s just a drop in the bucket.” He looked at me, then looked away. “I hate that you saw me like that.”
“I’ve seen worse,” I told him. Raf hadn’t been a mean drunk, or even a loud drunk. He was just a sad drunk.
“I know it bothered you when Mike drank. More than bothered you. And I never wanted you to worry about that with me. But I can’t guarantee that I won’t relapse again.”
I wouldn’t have believed him if he’d tried to make that promise anyway.
“I know,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “And I’m trying really hard to accept that. I’m pissed off that you blamed me. That was a shitty thing to do. But I know you feel bad about getting drunk. And I know you regret it. And even though I’m angry . . . I miss you, Raf. Even after just a couple of days, I miss you. This space thing sucks.”
He shifted uncomfortably, staring down at the carpet. “I miss you, too,” he said. His eyes flicked up to meet mine again before they were back on the floor. “But I can’t promise that I won’t disappoint you again. That sort of seems to be my thing.”
I rested my hand on the doorframe below where he was gripping it. Not touching, but close enough.
“You have trust issues, Harley. After what Mike did, why wouldn’t you?” Raf said. He crossed his arms across his chest. “And I have problems with breaking people’s trust. Doesn’t this seem like a disaster waiting to happen?”
I didn’t know what to say. He was right, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to kiss him.
“I have to get ready to go to a meeting,” Raf said, stepping back so he could close the door. It was an excuse that he knew I wouldn’t argue with.
“Let me come with you,” I said. I didn’t phrase it as a question.
He thought for a moment, and then he nodded, just once, and opened the door wider.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “Why don’t you stay out here?” He pointed to the couches in front of the big flat-screen TV. I got the message that he didn’t trust me in his bedroom when he was about to be naked. I got a small tingle in my belly just thinking about him in a towel.
But Raf didn’t take long, and he didn’t walk past in a towel either. I called him a prude when he came out of the bathroom fully dressed. That, at least, got a smile.
He drove us to the meeting, but he didn’t speak much on the way, aside from asking if I was okay with the music. I nodded, trying to be agreeable, even though I didn’t recognize the band.
Raf didn’t stop to smoke with the gang gathered outside, though they exchanged quick hellos and head nods of recognition as we walked through. I got a knowing look from Cajun that meant he knew about Raf’s relapse. I saw Elaine across the room, and she crossed quickly to embrace Raf and pull him aside. While they talked, I made myself a cup of coffee with non-dairy creamer. I had to pour it out after one sip. Working at the coffee shop had turned me into a snob.
Gradually the room quieted. After Elaine read the preamble, Arjun opened the meeting reading the twelve steps and then asking if anyone wanted to share.
Raf’s hand went up immediately.
“My name is Rafael, and I’m an alcoholic and an addict,” he said.
I held my breath. It was the first time I’d heard him say those words.
“About seven months ago, my parents came home from a nice night out and found me facedown in a puddle of my own vomit. I’d taken enough Oxy to make me completely unresponsive after the fifth of Jack Daniel’s I washed it down with, and I could have choked if I had been on my back.”
My chest squeezed like a fist. But I forced myself to breathe. My eyes began to sting. That was not the story I had heard about how he got sent to rehab.
“While I was in the hospital, they went through my room and found my stashes: bottles of liquor hidden in my sock drawer, Oxy and weed and all its paraphernalia in my closet, plus a few of my mom’s Xanax pills that I’d been stealing for the last six years, ever since my sister died.” He paused for a moment. “I denied that I was an alcoholic when my parents put me in rehab. Truthfully, I’ve been denying it for the last seven months, even though I was sober. But the other night, I drank again, and I realized something when I woke up the next day and felt like shit.”
The crowd around us chuckled knowingly.
“Seriously, not worth it,” Raf reiterated. “But worse than the hangover was the feeling of knowing that I had betrayed the trust of someone who had no obligation to, but seemed to like me anyway.” He finally looked at me then, as if he wanted me to really hear what he was saying. “I’m the one screwing up my life. I am the only one. No one is making me drink. It’s no one else’s fault that I want oblivion so much that I sometimes just want to drink until I can’t function, because it’s easier than being sober. And no one is going to make it better for me.”
A few people in the room murmured in agreement.
“Being an alcoholic can be lonely,” he said, “but being sober can be so much lonelier. Giving up everyone I used with meant I had no one.”
I almost objected, but then he turned to me again and reached for my hand.
“Except that’s not really true,” he added. “Not if I don’t want it to be. All of you being here tonight means we’re not alone. As long as we can find one of these roo
ms, we will never be alone. And I just wanted to thank you all for that.” He squeezed my hand and then let it go. “Thanks for letting me share.”
Seven Years Ago
Raf was eleven when his sister, Allie, was diagnosed with cancer. Leukemia. She made it barely a year past her diagnosis.
I remember the days after her death like a dream sequence in a movie, its edges blurry and indistinct. I remember neighbors parading down the street to the Juarezes’ house, each with a casserole dish or a Tupperware container. After dropping it off and expressing their condolences, they would come to our house and gather in our kitchen. Mom had a pot of coffee brewing constantly, even though most of them drank wine. At night, when they’d finally gone, Mom would polish off what was left in the bottles.
The day of the funeral, after the service (about which I only remember hating the itchy tights I was wearing), Mom and Dad hosted the reception at our house. We kids played outside in our black and navy finery, kicking off our shoes and ties and tights in the bright afternoon sun. It was spring, and the grass was wet in the backyard. We got yelled at afterward when we came inside with grass stains on our knees, tracking mud on the carpet.
But Mrs. Juarez pulled me into a too-tight hug. Her eyes were wet and her nose was red, and I didn’t know what to say to her. I liked hugging her, though. I missed Allie and I was sorry that she was dead, but I didn’t know how to say that. So I tightened my arms around her middle.
“Take care of Rafael, okay?” she said. “I think he’ll need his friends.”
I hadn’t seen much of him over the last year or so, and I wasn’t sure how to be his friend anymore. Boys were a weird breed that I was only just beginning to take an interest in after years of keeping my distance. But I nodded at her anyway.
That night, when it was just Mom, Dad, and Audrey left at the house, I watched out the window as Raf stood in the cul-de-sac throwing a tennis ball in the air and catching it. Over and over again. I wanted to go out there and talk to him, or at least catch the ball for him and throw it back. But instead, I went back to the couch where Mom was cuddled with Audrey, and I climbed in, forcing myself between them.