I cleared my throat.
Taylor cleared his.
“Why are you showing us this?” I breathed out painfully.
He smiled. “Every once in a while we all need a little reminder.”
17
The bar smelt like stale cigarettes and yesterday's beer. Or maybe that was me. All I knew was that I could taste the ickiness on the very tip of my tongue. It made me shiver and did nothing to erase the urge to puke.
The dim lights above me, flashing on and off like a laser, made my eyes sore. It hurt like hell, and I tried to blink the pain away. It was no use. As soon as I closed my eyes, everything around me began to spin. It was almost as though I were perched on the very top of a spinning top, slowly being sucked in.
I felt a hand touch mine and I carefully peeled my eyes open, praying the pain would stop.
When I did, a lazy smile broke free.
Ah, Frankie.
That's right.
We’d met up for lunch; pasta and one glass of rosé. That had been the plan, anyway. Only one drink led to four and four led us here, where we continued to drink until I no longer felt anything. Well, I continued to drink, anyway. I had no idea what Frankie was drinking or if she was even drinking at all.
Four years ago today was the last time I saw my brother alive. Four years since I last saw his face, looked into his eyes and told him that I loved him, no matter what. A few days later, he died, and I hadn’t even said goodbye. Whoever said that time was a healer was a liar. If anything, it only got worse every year, and I found myself relieving the last day I saw my brother alive, over and over again.
It was a Friday night and I had just walked through the door after spending the previous night with Aubrie. She’d driven me home that night because I had failed my driving test the day before and couldn’t face going home. My dad had been so sure I’d pass. He’d even handed me a card just before I left for the test centre. Congratulations On Passing Your Test! Once I’d opened it and seen the words sprawled across the top, I knew. I knew I’d been doomed to failure. I knew there was no way I could live up to his expectations no matter how hard I’d fought. The nerves had worked their way inside of me, tearing me in two as I slipped the card back inside the envelope and shoved it in my bag.
I’d failed, just like I knew I would. In my head I’d failed long before I’d gotten in that car and adjusted my seat so my feet could touch the pedals… even before I’d pressed my foot down on the clutch, applied a little gas and released the handbrake.
When Dad had texted me later that afternoon and asked how it went, I’d told him that I’d messed it up and that I was sorry.
He didn’t reply.
I knew I’d disappointed him, so I didn’t go back. Aubrie’s parents had agreed that I could stay over but I had to promise I’d go home the following day. By the time the following evening rolled around, I knew I had to face him. But when I’d walked through the door that night, Shawn had been there. He came back. I’d heard his voice before I’d even seen him. He was yelling at my dad, who was shouting back at him. I’d heard Mum sobbing in the living room while the cussing continued in the kitchen. I’d been frozen at the door. Scared to make a sound, or even let out a breath. Glass smashed. Shouts echoed. Then it had all went silent. For a fraction of a second, I’d imagined both of them sprawled out on the kitchen floor surrounded by a pool of blood and shattered glass. Then Shawn appeared out of nowhere, blood smeared over the grey tee he had on. I’d looked down and that was when I’d noticed both his hands ripped to shreds and covered in blood. His eyes had met mine and he seemed to slow down his movements. My breath caught in my throat. He’d looked like he hadn’t slept in months. A sob tore from my chest when he’d lowered his eyes to mine. A part of me was so happy he had come back, but the other part of me was worried about what would happen next.
When he opened his mouth to speak, I’d been afraid of what he might say. He told me that he was sorry and that he’d loved me. I’d cried harder. I’d thrown my arms around him. I hadn’t even cared that he’d covered me in his blood. I’d thrown my arms around him, hugged him tightly and told him that I’d loved him, too, no matter what. He’d kissed my forehead, stared at me one final time, and left. I hadn’t known back then that I’d never see him again. But a part of me had known, deep down, that my Shawn was gone and that he wasn’t coming back.
I shook my head, which felt heavier than the rest of me, and pushed down the lump that had formed in my throat. “I don't feel so good,” I mumbled, covering my mouth as though it would stop me from hurling my carbonara all over the table.
“That's it. I’m cutting you off. No more.”
I waved my hand in protest and dropped it back into my lap. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
“You said that an hour ago.”
An hour? How had it been that long already?
“I mean it this time.”
“No. Not happening.”
“What, are you suddenly my mother now?” I laughed coldly.
“No, I’m a friend. A friend who is telling another friend that she has already had way too much.”
“Of course,” I slurred. “I mean it's not like my own mother would even care anyway. She'd probably ply me with more until I passed out and was no longer her responsibility.”
“What's this really about, Mel?” Frankie sighed. “Jake or your arsehole parents?”
I frowned. “How did you know about Jake?”
Her eyes rolled in mock humour. She looked funny. “You told me. Not even a half hour ago.”
I did?
“So, what's it about?”
“Him. Them. Both.” I shrugged.
“You wanna go home?” she asked, her tone now softer than before.
I nodded, but made no attempt to move. “An hour he's been sat there. A whole sixty minutes, and he hasn't looked over once. What's wrong with me, Frank?” I asked through slanted eyes. “What is so wrong with me that I could make someone feel so ashamed of me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing. He doesn't realise how lucky he is that you would even give him the time of day.”
“He hates me.”
“I’m sure he doesn't,” she said reassuringly.
“No, he really does.”
“Then he's stupid.”
Sniffing, I nodded my head. “Stupid? Yes, he's stupid. And I’m going to tell him just that.” Then I stood. At least, that's what I tried to do. My fingers felt numb as I clutched the edge of the table for support.
Frankie rushed to my side, the motion making my head spin again. “Oh no you don't. I don't think so.” Her hand gripped mine, though I wasn't sure whether it was to stop me or steady me.
I shook out my limbs and tried to right myself. “Well, I am. You can't stop me.”
I realised how childish I sounded, even through the haze of alcohol that swarmed inside of me.
“I don't think that's such a good idea, Mel. You'll only regret it in the morning. Beer fear, remember?”
“I have to,” I said, this time with a little more finality. I wanted to pat myself on the back but I didn’t dare try. My head was throbbing, and any small movement would only make it worse.
“Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you,” Frankie challenged, tossing her hands up in surrender.
I quickly scurried past her before she tried to stop me again. Just a few more steps, I told myself just as I caught my foot on a stool and stumbled forwards. “Hey, watch it!” I pointed at the six pairs of eyes that stared back at me before meshing into one.
I heard Frankie garble some kind of apology as I continued on my mission. Just as I was certain I’d never make it without falling flat on my arse, a strong hand curled around my waist, another pressed to my chest, halting any movement I might have made next.
I gazed up just as Frankie mumbled an oh shit behind me.
My mouth opened. Then quickly snapped shut.
Him.
“You,” I stated firml
y, my finger prodding his chest as if it would do harm. A chest that felt more like a solid wall of steel than muscles and skin.
He didn't move. Not even a flinch, or twitch of a nose. He just stood there with his stupid hands on me again.
“You,” I slurred, unease working its way inside of me. “You think you're too good to be seen with me, right? Well?” I shouted. “You sleep with me, but you can't say hello? Is this about your friends? Are you worried what they might say if they find out?”
Yes. That's right. I said it.
Actually, I said a lot. More than I should have.
Jake’s eyes remained on mine. Firm, strong and very, very beautiful.
“She's drunk.”
I knew the words weren't aimed at me.
“She's an adult,” Frankie told him. I wanted to cheer.
“She's a mess.”
“She's a mess.” I laughed. I couldn't help it. Why was everything so funny?
God, my head.
The pain.
Someone kill me and put me out of my misery.
“I wonder why that is…” Frankie challenged.
I waved my hands in the air, reminding them I still existed. “Hello? Still here.” I hiccupped. Ouch.
Jake opened his mouth to say something but a commotion interrupted whatever it was he was about to say.
His friends rushed to his side.
Taylor, Lola, Riley, then Aubrie. All at his side, probably wondering what the hell was going on.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Why had I thought this was a good idea? And why the hell hadn’t Frankie stopped me?
She tried.
“Shut up,” I found myself saying aloud.
Aubrie nudged Jake’s arm, her judgy little eyes still on mine. “She needs to get home,” she whispered.
I ignored her silent warning that was meant just for Jake and looked him dead in the eyes. “Why are you ashamed of me?”
“Okay,” Frankie cut in. “That's enough. Home. Now.”
“No!” I screamed. “He's ashamed of me and I’m not leaving until I know why.”
Jake’s jaw ticked, his eyes growing impossibly dark.
“Jake?” Taylor said, his eyes not fully comprehending the situation.
“I’ve got this.”
“What do you mean you've got this? Let her friend here take her home and come and sit back down.”
Taylor tugged on Jake's arm, forcing him back slightly. Jake was having none of it.
“I said I’ve. Got. This,” he repeated. His eyes shifted to my side. To Frankie. “Get me her purse. I’m taking her home.”
He was taking me home?
Where was home?
Was I going to throw up right there? In front of everyone?
Everything was spinning around me. My body was heavy and unsteady, and then it began to grow lighter. I felt as though I were flying.
I wasn't flying.
I was being carried.
The cool air hit me like an ice blast. I shivered as I felt my weight shift.
“No, don't put me down,” I pleaded.
“I’m gonna need you to stand for just a second, okay?” His warm breath brushed against my neck and I sighed.
Jake chuckled quietly to himself and lowered me to my feet.
“Why did I drink?” Another chuckle, another dull ache in my head. My heels… why did I wear these stupid things?
I wanted to take them off.
I wanted the world to stop spinning so goddamn fast.
Bed. I needed my bed.
I felt something heavy slip around my shoulders. I felt him. Warm, strong arms lifted me as though I weighed nothing.
Another sigh.
Another chuckle.
Then nothing.
Nothing but darkness and the warmth Jake created as his steady beating heart lulled me to sleep.
18
Before we left Coach's house that afternoon, he’d pulled me aside out of earshot of Taylor. I didn't have to tell him what was wrong. He knew. I shouldn't have been surprised. He always did know how I was feeling before I voiced it.
“When I was your age, they told me I would never be able to play again. Do you wanna know what I told them?”
“What, Coach?”
“I told them they were wrong. Only I would be the one to call time on my career. Not some money-grabbing agent or senior doctor could tell me otherwise.”
“What happened? After they told you that you couldn't play?”
“I spent another ten seasons proving them wrong. Three teams, six trophies and named MVP in 83.”
“Coach, you were MVP? How come you never told us?”
“Would it have made a difference? We’re only as good as we allow ourselves to be, Jake. It doesn't matter how many trophies you win, or if you hold the top scoring title of your career. Even an MVP can fall on his arse. It's what we do after that the defines us.”
“Is that what you did?”
“Heavens, no. I grew old and realised there was more to life than playing ball.”
“So, you taught the game instead?”
“And I haven't regretted a single second of it.”
“You think I should give up, Coach?”
“I think you'd be stupid if you did. You're young, Jake. The game isn't over for you yet. You just gotta work for it. In time, this dry spell will become nothing but a distant memory.”
“I hope you're right,” I said, looking to Taylor who was watching from afar.
“I always am.”
I nodded and pushed my feet forward, hoping he was right. Just as I lifted my left foot off the ground to take another step, Coach pulled me back.
“Now that part’s out of the way, don’t you think it’s about time you spoke to your brother?”
I frowned.
“Don’t play dumb with me, kid. You think I don’t see it? The tension. The unspoken words… I see more than you realise, Jake.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do, Coach.”
“Talk to him, for a start. Whatever is going on between you both isn’t worth falling out over. You’re lucky to have each other. Some aren’t as lucky.”
When I opened my mouth to say something worthy back, he was gone.
We had each other, and while it pained me to admit that I had been wrong, I had, and deep down I knew just how lucky I was. Coach’s words had hit home, and I’d realised right there and then that he was right. I had been punishing myself for the things I couldn’t control and resenting Taylor for no valid reason other than to be an arse of a brother. And I was his brother. I wasn’t alone in the world. I had both parents, I had a handful of close friends, and I had Taylor. I’d stopped appreciating how lucky I was to have those people in my life. But that had been wrong of me to do. After all, who knew what would happen tomorrow? Who knew what curveballs were heading our way? Who knew if we’d be alive the next day?
I decided right then that I would start to make an effort. I’d try to be the brother Taylor needed and not the dickhead I had become.
I invited the guys out for drinks. There was no awkward silence, no making excuses to leave. It was just like the old days. Well, until Melanie and her friend burst through the door in a fit of giggles, clearly already wasted, and it all went to shit. Lola appeared anxious as she sat tucked into Taylor’s side. It was clear to all of us that things were about to take a turn for the worse. Even when we tried our best to ignore Melanie’s presence, I still found my eyes drifting back and forth, unable to completely block her out. I’d never seen her in that state before. It made me wonder what must’ve happened.
It turned out that I didn’t need to question it for much longer. She stumbled her way over, losing her footing on a stool that blocked her path, and I’d immediately rushed over to her. I didn’t even know why I’d done it. It wasn’t like her friend wasn’t there to help her out. But Mel was a mess, and there was no way her friend could hold her up.
I reached out for
her, my hand gripping her waist so she wouldn’t fall. It was only when my eyes met hers that I realised the severity of it all. She was way past the point of wasted. Her eyes couldn’t even hold mine for more than a few seconds at a time before they rolled into the back of her head. All I could think was that she was going to pass out and there would be no one to help her. I found myself growing angrier at her friend for letting her get that way, so I lifted Mel into my arms and carried her out, ignoring Taylor’s protest as I did.
I held her to my chest as the cool air brushed across her bare arms. When I placed my jacket over her shoulders to warm her up, she let out a dreamy sigh as if she was exactly where she wanted to be. I tried to ignore how that made me feel as I climbed into the taxi with her in my arms. Her hair clung to her face, shielding a brown eye, and I pushed the stray hairs back and brushed my fingers across her cheek. She was so beautiful even with the slight frown on her forehead that made me wonder what had happened to her that day. I was still watching her chest rise and fall when the driver asked for the address. I didn’t have to think twice about my response. She was coming home with me.
The drive didn’t take long, and once I’d paid the driver, I held Mel’s limp body in my arms as I carried her down the side entrance to my place. Shifting her weight to one side, I managed to unlock the door and guide us through the dark doorway. We had just made it through when her eyes shot open, wide and afraid. When I dropped her to her feet, thinking she was about to tear into me again, she threw up, covering us both in vomit.
“Ah shit,” I cursed as I tried to hurry her to the bathroom while she continued to gag into her hand. I’d never seen so much sick in my life. That’s when I knew that I’d made the right decision by bringing her back to my place. And, strangely, I found myself getting pissed again. I was pissed at her friend for letting her get in this state and I was pissed at myself for caring so fucking much.
Once I’d cleaned her up and stripped her from her wet clothing, I laid her on my bed and waited until I knew she was safe and wasn’t going to chuck up before I went for a shower. I hadn’t been gone two minutes before a knock on the door had me turning the shower off, wrapping a towel around my waist and hurrying to answer it before they attempted to come in.
A Different Game: A Wrong Game Novel Page 11