by Jessica Park
“Alrighty, B.” He puts his arm around me and drops his head onto my shoulder. I’m pretty sure that Chris is on the verge of breaking my hand. God, Sabin is so drunk. I smell beer, for sure, but something else. Bourbon, maybe? I didn’t even see him drink that.
“Here’s the thing, Sabe. I’m really cold, and I really want to go inside. And I really, really don’t want to sled off the roof.”
“Tray. Tray off the roof,” he corrects me.
“I really don’t want to tray off the roof,” I say matter-of-factly.
“I do,” he says.
“I don’t want to, sweetheart. I really, really believe that you’re going to get smashed up, and if you make me go with you, I’m going to get smashed up also.”
“Well, that would suck,” he says. “You just got all happy again, didn’t you?”
“I did. And I’m not going to be happy if I’m all smashed up.”
He sighs into me. “I don’t want that either. It’s just that …”
“What?”
“Sometimes I get so tired. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I do. I understand that very well. But right now, we’re going to get up and go inside.” I nudge his head up so that he can see me smiling at him. I whisper, “I need you, Sabin. I just found you, so you can’t do this. I need you to stick around for me.”
He nods and whispers back, “You’re my best friend.”
“I’ve never asked you to do anything before, but I’m asking now. Come inside with me so that we don’t end up in the emergency room. Or the morgue. I know that you don’t want to hurt me.”
“Never.” He laughs a little. “I’m not Chris.”
“Christopher isn’t hurting me.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “I’m sure. Now let’s go.” I tug on Chris’s hand and he pulls me up. Sabin scoots back and follows me over the railing and back to the safety of the upper-level lounge. The room is freezing from the balcony door being open, and I shut it firmly and lock it while Chris turns on the lights.
Sabin stumbles across the room and lies down on the coffee table while Chris and I collapse onto the couch. Chris takes off my iced-up coat and pulls me in, rubbing my arms and shoulders with his hands, trying to stop my shivering. He has to be just as cold as I am, but he is taking care of me nonetheless.
“That was really dumb, Blythe. But thank you,” Chris says. “I don’t think he would have listened to me.”
“I can hear you!” Sabin shouts from the table.
Zach, Eric, and Estelle fly into the room.
“He’s alive!” Eric exclaims. He hiccups while he and Zach grab a seat on the floor.
“Stupid as all hell, but still alive,” Estelle confirms. “Now I’m definitely leaving.” Even after the drama, Estelle looks perfect, her red dress draping over her body beautifully as she makes her way around the room, kissing each of us good-bye on the cheek. She has shifted from panic prayer mode to typically confident Estelle mode so quickly, it’s mind-boggling. She gets to Sabin. “I love you. Stop being such a dick.”
“Let me walk you?” Eric offers.
“I don’t think Zach is letting you out of his sight for ten minutes,” she says.
“That’s right.” Zach tilts his head for a quick kiss from Eric. “But we’ll both walk you. You can’t go alone.”
“I’m fine on my own. My professor is only a block away.”
“Stellie, don’t go!” Sabin lies back flat on the table and talks to her with his head hanging upside down. “Stay just a little longer!”
“Nope. It’s time. See you later, my loves!” Estelle adjusts her giant shoulder bag and steps into the hall, calling to us as she leaves. “I adore you all, even the crazy ones. More than I love turkeys!”
“More than you love vibrators?” Sabin yells after her.
“Ha! No. Never!” she hollers back.
Chris groans. “Jesus, Sabin, shut up!” He takes my feet into his lap and pulls my shoes off so that he can rub my frozen feet.
Sabin giggles. “More than you love Jesus?” he asks loudly. “And his virgin mommy? Bet she had to use a vibrator all the damn time, huh?”
Estelle appears in the doorway. “Fuck you. Watch your fucking mouth.” She isn’t laughing anymore. “Seriously, fuck you, Sabin.”
“Suck it up, sis. Pray to God, and maybe I’ll find religion, too. Then we can crawl into confession together. A family that repents together, stays together. Right?”
“I do pray for you,” she says softly. “For all of you.”
“Well, don’t!” he snaps. “Keep me out of that horseshit. You’re so out of your mind.”
“Sabe, leave her alone,” Eric says.
“Oh, what the fuck, Eric? Why should I leave her alone? I can’t pick on my sister once in a while? Of course I can. I can do whatever I want.” His voice is louder now. “Especially when it comes to all that fucking ‘Jesus loves me’ bullshit.”
I can feel Chris’s legs stiffen under my legs, and his hand tightens just a bit on my foot. The tone in the room has shifted. I glance at Zach. We are both in the same position as non-family members, and his discomfort is as palpable as mine must be. Chris is watching Sabin—waiting—but he doesn’t say anything, not even when Sabin launches into a particularly sarcastic delivery of “Jesus Loves the Little Children.” His singing is obnoxious and embarrassing, for him and for Estelle.
“Sabin, you better shut your mouth,” Eric warns. The only reason he hasn’t gotten up is because Zach has a firm grip on his shoulder. “That’s enough.”
“It’s not enough,” Sabin spits out. He gets up and cracks open one of the beer cans that he’s carried in from the balcony. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d taken them inside. He downs half the can of beer and returns to his spot on the table.
We are all quiet while we prepare. It’s the eye of the storm, and I am aware that it’s going to get worse.
“Ask Blythe if I’m right. She’s got to live with that religious nut. Blythe, tell ’em! You don’t believe in that shit. Come on, Stellie’s a little bonkers, right?”
I say nothing. This is not the Sabin I know, and I don’t recognize the surly, nasty attitude that he’s throwing out. Although I’m angry, I’m also worried about him. I know that it’s just the alcohol talking, or mostly it is, but it’s breaking my heart to watch him like this. Estelle hasn’t moved from her spot by the doorway, and she looks equally crushed, incapable of defending herself right now.
Sabin looks at me. “You’re taking their side on this, too?” he demands.
“Don’t answer that,” Chris says.
“Oh, now you’re speaking for Blythe? That’s fucking rich!”
“I’m not speaking for Blythe. I’m telling you to shut the fuck up and lay off.” I can tell how much effort it takes, but he softens his voice as he continues talking. “Sabe. Pull your shit together. You’ve put us through enough tonight.”
Sabin slides off the table and grabs another beer. Then he grabs my arm and pulls me from the couch. I wish more than anything that he would pass out because I don’t like who he is now. This is not my friend. This is a drunk, belligerent, disrespectful version of my friend, but I let him take me from my place with Chris because I don’t want to do anything to antagonize him further.
“C’mon, B. Tell me that you agree with me. You think Estelle is deluded, right? I mean, there are no guardian angels floating around us, no saints, no all-powerful God. No magical being living in the sky.” He wraps an arm around my waist and crushes me against him. Now I’m getting pissed. His hold is too tight, and he’s hurting me. I know he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but it doesn’t make me any less angry.
I make a sound as he crushes my rib cage, and I push back against him. “Knock it off.”
Chris is on his feet in an instant with a firm grasp on Sabin’s upper arm. I can see that his arm is flexed, but his expression and voice remain calm. “Let her go, Sabe.”
/> With his free hand, Sabin waves the can in the air. “No magical people in the sky, but there are, however, sinners. Right, everyone?”
“Sabin.” Chris is visibly struggling to keep his cool, but he does it. “Get your fucking hands off Blythe. Now.” I’ve never seen Chris like this, with so much rage under the surface. I know he adores his brother, but the cold way he’s looking at Sabin right now wrecks me. “I’m warning you.”
“Oh, I get it, I get it!” Sabin pulls me in harder. “You’re not going to fuck her, but you’ll talk for her? Pussy.”
It feels like it happens out of nowhere. Sabin shoves his mouth roughly against mine, and his tongue gets halfway down my throat before Chris rips him off me. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I am recovering from the caustic taste of beer and bourbon and foolishness as Chris drags Sabin by a fistful of shirt across the room. Chris backs his brother against the wall and holds him there firmly.
Sabin’s eyes are red. “There you go, Chris. Let me have it. You know you want to.” Chris now has both hands twisted up into Sabin’s shirt, and while Sabin may have the size advantage, Chris has the strength advantage. And the clear fury.
“Don’t! Chris, please, don’t!” As pissed off as I am at Sabin, he’s just drunk, and I don’t want Chris hurting him.
“Blythe, I’m not going to hurt him. I want him to calm the fuck down. Now.”
Sabin just won’t stop, though. “I’m just sayin’, Chris. You’ve fucked plenty of other girls, but not Blythe? So what the fuck’s that about, huh? You too good for her? That it?”
The room is dead silent as Chris pulls him forward slightly and then pushes him back against the wall so hard that his head bounces once. I wince at the audible thud, but know as I watch Chris stare into Sabin’s eyes that he won’t really hurt his brother. Despite the hold he’s got on him, Chris shows incredible self-control as he puts his face right to Sabin’s and says just loudly enough that I can hear, “No, you stupid fuck. She’s too good for me.”
I can barely breathe. Nobody moves; nobody speaks.
A few minutes pass while Chris continues to hold Sabin against the wall. “Sabe? Can this be over now?”
Finally Sabin’s body deflates, and he sinks against the wall. He puts a hand on the back of Chris’s head. “I’m sorry, man. I’m so sorry. I’m just drunk. I love you.”
I see the tension in Chris’s shoulders and arms lessen, but he doesn’t let him go yet. “I love you, too. Don’t be so careless with your life. Or with ours.” Chris pats Sabin on the cheek. “Now apologize to Blythe for being a stupid douche bag.”
I am in awe of how well Chris has maintained his composure through this, and how he’s diffused such a volatile situation. Estelle, Zach, and Eric are frozen still near the door, as if moving a muscle might create a new problem.
Sabin rolls his head my way. “Blythe …”
He doesn’t need to say anything to me. While what has just transpired has scared me to some degree, I know that the other side of rage is sadness, and that he’s feeling something incredibly sad tonight. I don’t know what it’s about. But I do know that Chris went easy on Sabin and that there has to be more to this story. So while I’m pissed at Sabin, I mostly feel worried and protective of him. Besides, the absolute remorse on Sabin’s face says it all. I know how it feels when I’m not myself, when everything that I’ve pushed down gets twisted and crazy and resurfaces in the most destructive way possible. I can give Sabin more than leeway because I know him, and I know his heart. “It’s okay.”
“No,” he says, sounding more sober than he has all night. “No, it’s not. I’m a prick.”
“You are. But it’s going to be okay. You went into the deep end of the ocean. I know what that’s like. But now we’re both back.” I cross the room to be by Sabin’s side. I’m not afraid; I am just sad. “Let him go, Chris.”
Chris looks at me for a moment and then at Sabin. “Are you done?” he asks softly. “Did you get it all out?”
“Yeah.”
Chris continues to keep his voice level, almost like a parent talking to a misbehaving child. “If I let you go, and you make one wrong move, I’ll have to—”
Sabin throws his hands up in surrender. “I swear to God.”
“How about you not mention God again for a few minutes?” he says, a touch of a smile on his lips. When Chris releases him and backs off to stand with the others near the door, I wrap my arms around Sabin’s shoulders and hug him. I hold him tightly.
“Don’t hug me,” he says, his arms resting at his side. “I’m a bastard.”
“You’re not a bastard. Look, I know what it’s like to want to lash out. I’ve been there.”
Sabin shrugs.
“So hug me back,” I say.
And then he hugs me back, and he feels like Sabin again. He feels like part of me.
I hear Chris talking softly to Estelle, and I look up from Sabin’s embrace. “It’s over,” I hear him say. “Please don’t be upset. Everything is fine; no one got hurt. No one was going to get hurt. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Do you hear me?”
She looks blankly at him, but her eyes are rimmed with tears.
Chris keeps talking. “I wasn’t going to hit him. You know that, right? I would never do that.”
I turn Sabin so that he can see Estelle’s broken expression. “Go tell her it’s over. But just let her have her God. I don’t care if you don’t like it. It’s important to her. Let her have what she needs. Estelle never pushes her beliefs on you. She never tells you that you’re going to hell for not believing in God.”
“I know.”
Sabin is worn out. I can see it in the way he moves to her. She brushes past Chris and flies into Sabin’s arms. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault, Sabe.”
“Never. You didn’t cause this. I’m so sorry, baby girl. With everything that I am—although that may not seem like much now—but with everything that I am, I promise this will never happen again.” Estelle nearly disappears in his big arms. “You keep your faith. Always. I won’t ever try to shoot it down again. On my life.”
“I’m tired now.” She has wilted into him, and he has found the strength to hold her up. “I want to go to sleep. You’ll stay with me?”
“Anything you want.”
“Chris, too. Everyone.”
“Of course,” Chris says.
The six of us leave the battle scene and start to cross the hall into my and Estelle’s room.
“So,” Eric says in an inappropriately casual voice, “we may need to discuss your mattress situation, Chris.”
Chris stops in his tracks. “What?”
“It might be a little … damp.”
“Possibly frozen,” Zach adds.
Chris just shakes his head.
Eric staggers ahead into the room, dragging Zach behind him. “Hey, next time ask someone else to catch the roof surfer.”
“Trayer!” Sabin yells. “The word is trayer!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Breathing under Water
The sun has barely started rising when I wake up. I must have been exhausted to be able to fall asleep sitting up. At least my futon is in the couch position, and except for the fact that my legs are aching from the weight of Sabin’s head in my lap, I’m comfortable enough with my back against the mattress. I had the good sense to change out of my holiday dress clothes and into sweats and a T-shirt, so that helps. Sabe is still lightly snoring, and I gently smooth his hair away from his face as he takes a deep breath and snuggles into me, tucking his arms under my legs. Eric and Zach are unmoving, entwined next to us under the blanket that I’d tossed over them.
I rub Sabin’s back. His T-shirt is drenched in sweat, but I touch him without caring. I want him to feel, even in sleep, that I am crazy about him. I am unfailingly devoted to him.
Maybe someone else would be too disgusted with everything that he did last night to be near him, but I’m not. I know that he should never have t
ouched me the way that he did. I hate that he forced that unwanted kiss on me and that he violated the safe friendship we have, but I forgive him. Easily. The way that he lashed out, the way he did what he could to push me—push all of us—away was a test. He was trying to prove that we would leave him.
None of us will do that. That’s why we are all here together—because you don’t run after devastation. You stay and hold one another close. At least, that’s what you’re supposed to do, I’m learning.
I kiss my fingertips and touch them to his forehead before wiping the clammy sweat from his brow. My phone vibrates next to me. Funny how I keep it close to me at all times as though I am always waiting for … I don’t know what. Something. I take it from the bed and read the text.
Good morning, sunshine.
I look to Estelle’s bed. Chris is sitting up as I am, with Estelle sleeping across his lap. He is caring for her the way that I’m caring for Sabin. He looks as wiped out as I surely do, but he also looks peaceful. I give him a small wave. He gets that adorable half smile that I love so much and sends me another text.
Sorry about last night. Probably not the way to finish a holiday.
I write back. Ending the day with a giant fight? It’s a classic. Well done to all of us.
He shakes his head as he types. I’m sorry. For so many things.
It takes me a minute to respond to this. You only have one thing to be sorry for, I write back. I pause before I finish my thought, and I know he is watching me. Don’t ever say that I’m too good for you. Say, “Not now.” Say, “Maybe never.” But don’t ever say that shit again.
I meet his eyes and wait until the smile reappears and he mouths okay to me.
Despite the nature of last night’s mess, one thing has become crystal clear to me overnight: I have never felt as close to anyone as I do to Chris. It is not from the amount of time we have spent together, but from the strength of the unquestionable bond we share.