Hale

by K. Webster

  If Mom knew Aunt Becky was trying to shove all these pills down my throat, she’d freak. Mom was always so into holistic healing. Even when the doctor diagnosed me as bipolar, she assured him that through therapy and family support, I’d manage just fine.

  I was managing just fine until they died.

  Now, I’m spinning and spinning.

  I hate my school. I hate this house. I hate everyone.

  I especially hate Hudson.

  He’s off living the perfect life with a probably pregnant girlfriend waiting on him. In another year, he’ll finish college and come back home to marry Amy. They’ll probably have ten kids and live in a fancy house next door to Aunt Becky and Uncle Randy. Meanwhile, I’ll still be Rylie, the one who can’t get a fucking grip on life.

  Unscrewing the lid to the bottle, I inspect the pink and white pills. Lithium. I’m supposed to take this magical pill and I’ll become normal. So Dr. Livingston and Aunt Becky say. It’s going to take a lot more than one pill to make me normal.

  I don’t need these damn things.

  I told my aunt that.

  I just need my mom and dad.

  With a grumble of frustration, I storm into the bathroom, ready to flush them all down the toilet. That’ll piss Aunt Becky off. I’m just about to do it when I catch a glimpse of my reflection.

  Daddy.

  Same soulful light brown eyes. Same dark brown hair. Same smattering of freckles on my nose and cheeks.

  Tears. Tears. More tears.

  That’s all I do these days.

  Rage and cry. Rage and cry.

  Nobody fucking cares either. Not like Mom did. I was frustrating to her, but she tried. Researched new things all the time in an effort to help me. I loved her for wanting to help me in a way that didn’t feel like she was taking over my life. But the one who helped the most was Dad. He was funny and seemed to always be relaxed. It relaxed me too. I know his job was hard and it hurt his back, but he’d come home and give me all of his smiles.

  The girl in the mirror, who looks like her daddy, cries.

  Some days, I wonder if I even know her anymore. Some days, I don’t know this person who fills her body. Some days, I feel so lost.

  No one will ever find me.

  Maybe I do need fixing.

  But it will take more than one pink and white pill.

  The girl in the mirror must know the secret to happiness because she swallows them. Gags and gags and has to use water from the sink. But she swallows them. All of them. She wants to be fixed.

  And me?

  I clutch the side of the sink, nausea crashing into me like a giant wave. I’m going to throw up. I splash cold water on my face, but it doesn’t help. I’m sweating and dizzy.

  I wonder if I asked Hudson his secrets to happiness, would he tell me?

  Would he say, “Rylie, you just have to not be a fuck-up. Easy.”

  And would I say, “Ahhh, now I understand.”

  I’d be normal just like my brother.

  I could be an aunt, a much better aunt than Aunt Becky, to the little baby in Amy’s belly. I would spoil it and whisper secrets to it. Tell it exactly how not to be a fuck-up.

  “Easy,” I would say. And the baby would understand.

  Unlike me.

  The baby wouldn’t have to crawl behind in his brother’s shadows his entire life, trying to be good enough. The baby would start life with the upper hand.

  I would help the baby.

  The baby would thank me.

  The room spins and bile comes up my throat. I barely manage to reach the toilet before I’m retching. All the normal pills splash into the toilet, splattering my face with gross water. I’m reminded that my happiness can’t be fixed with a pill or thirty. My happiness is something that sits in the bottom of the commode, just waiting for someone to come flush it all away.

  Blackness crawls around me, threatening to swallow me under.

  To flush me down along with those happy pills.

  If I could talk to the blackness, I’d say, “Take me.”

  And it would.

  But unfortunately, I can’t talk to blackness. My happy pills don’t get to make me happy. Brothers don’t tell their sisters the secret of life.

  In my world, I exist alone, surrounded by people.

  A nightmare. A paradox. A harsh sentencing for a crime I didn’t commit.

  Blackness swarms around me like a cloud of angry bees.

  It stings inside and out. All over.

  Blackness doesn’t drown me, it poisons me.

  Machines beep and I try to open my eyes.

  So dark.

  So warm.

  Not alone.

  A strong, warm hand grips mine tightly, pulling me from my dreams of bees and unhappy pills. I blink my eyes open.

  Sharp green ones bore into me.

  Accusing.

  Angry.

  Achingly beautiful.

  The sickness I always keep drowned below the surface thrashes to the top. It always grabs onto me at the worst possible moments and threatens to drag me under. For one moment, I let it take me. I admire his handsome face that resembles mine. Let my eyes linger on his thick lashes. Let them slide down to his strong nose. Let them fall to his full lips.

  His lips move as he hisses out furious words, but I don’t listen to them. The bees buzzing in my head are still too loud. All I can do is focus on the beauty in front of me. A beauty I’ve secretly adored since I was a child.

  Sick. Sick. Sick.

  No matter how many sessions with Dr. Livingston I’ve had, I never tell him what infects my innermost desires. Even I know some things are better left unsaid. It doesn’t stop him from prying and snooping, picking apart my brain as though it’s a bowl of candy and he’s searching for the only green M&M in the bowl.

  Sick, Rylie. You’re sick.

  My eyes droop but not before I push away thoughts of green M&Ms and green eyes and carefully guarded secrets.

  “Rylie.”

  His voice, though, speaks a language only my sickness understands. It reaches out to him. Begs to be held. Spreads and spreads and spreads.

  “You stupid, stupid kid.”

  The sickness retreats as fire chases it away. I pop my eyes open and glare at him. My brother. My nemesis. The one I’ll never be like. I try to move my lips, but nothing comes out.

  “Get some rest and when you’re better, we’re going to talk.” He rises from the chair beside the bed in the sterile room. My eyes track him as he walks over to Amy. They hug. I wonder how he feels knowing he’s going to be a dad.

  Tears leak from my face, but nobody sees.

  Nobody ever sees the pain that bleeds from my body day by day.

  They go about their lives thinking only about themselves.

  Closing my eyes, I seek out the darkness. The bees. The pain. I just want to think about something else.

  When a warm thumb rakes across my cheek, I snap my eyes open. Hudson stares down at me. Pain, much like the pain I feel a slave to inside, flickers in his eyes. My big, strong older brother is suffering.

  “We’re going to talk about this. We’re going to talk about a lot of things,” he murmurs.

  I watch him leave with his perfect pregnant girlfriend latched onto his arm. More tears leak out long after they’re gone.

  What will we talk about, Huds?

  Will you tell me the secret cure for the sickness in my heart and the blackness in my head?

  Of course not.

  Hudson doesn’t share his secrets.

  And neither do I.

  Hudson

  “We could always try, though,” Amy says, a sweet smile on her face. “For a moment there, as I peed on the stick, I was hoping I was pregnant. Can you imagine how cute our babies will be?”

  I stare at her, numb. “Yeah.”

  “Only one more year. Maybe after the summer, we could try. Then, by the time you graduate from college, we’d have a little baby. I wouldn’t need a big
wedding, Hudson. We could get one of Dad’s friends at the courthouse to marry us.” She beams at me from across the table.

  “I need to go,” I mutter as I stand and toss some money beside our empty plates. “Rylie gets out today.”

  Her features crumple and her bottom lip wobbles, but she simply nods. Sometimes I wish she wasn’t so fucking compliant.

  “Okay,” she says with false cheer as she slides out of the booth. “Let’s go get our girl.”

  I stop her with a hand to her shoulder. “I think I need to spend some time with her.” Alone. I don’t say that word, but I imply it with the look I’m giving her. I don’t like upsetting Amy, but she’s so clingy at the worst times. Rylie almost fucking died the other day and Amy’s planning babies and shit. My sister tried to commit suicide. I’ve lost half my family already. I can’t lose the only person I have left.

  “I see,” she replies, tears shining in her eyes. “I’ll just walk back down to Mom’s shop. Go on and get your sister. Maybe I can stop by later tonight and see you guys. How are Becky and Randy anyway?”

  “Fine. Yes, that sounds good. Thanks, babe.” I pull her to me and kiss the top of her head. Remorse for what I did to her hits me hard in the gut. I need to tell her about Jada. That I let some girl suck my dick because I missed her.

  This could all end.

  But would it?

  Amy is too forgiving. The moment I tell her, she’ll cry and cry, but then she’ll try to fix us. That makes me feel even worse.

  “Talk to you later,” she says as she pulls away and exits the restaurant.

  Relief floods through me in her wake. I’d freaked the fuck out when she told me she might be pregnant. The test proved she wasn’t and then the next day she started her period. At least I dodged one bullet in my life.

  My mind is a mess. Right now, I should be in class. I should be getting ready for this week’s ball game. I should be worrying about my future with Amy.

  Instead, I’m driving to a hospital.

  To pick up my sister.

  I get distracted on the way by thoughts from the past.

  “I’ll call you after rehearsal is over,” Amy says, standing on her toes and brushing a kiss over my lips.

  I flash her a smile and then leave her near the choir room door to seek out Rylie in the freshman hall. I’d rather hang out and watch Amy sing with her choir buddies, but Mom insists I get my sister home from school each day when I don’t have practice.

  The freshman hall has long emptied out and I don’t see Rylie sitting in front of her locker waiting like usual. Unease flitters through me. She’s always waiting. If she’s off making out with some boy when she’s supposed to be getting ready to go, I’ll be pissed. I want to go home and change clothes before I take Amy out to dinner tonight. I don’t have time for this shit.

  I’m passing Mr. Wright’s room when I hear him bitching someone out. I shake my head because that guy was such a dick when I had him in the ninth grade. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with his pompous ass anymore.

  “Your attitude stinks,” he snaps. “What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”

  I stiffen because I don’t like the way he’s talking to a girl. Everything in me calls to keep hunting down Rylie, but I take pause to eavesdrop.

  “It’s not attitude,” she says softly. “I’ve just been having a hard time lately. I’m sorry.”

  My hackles rise.

  Rylie.

  Not just any girl, but my damn sister.

  I turn on my heel and storm into the classroom, fury bubbling up inside me. Mr. Wright stands in front of her desk, towering over her. I used to fucking hate how he’d exert his height and power over people.

  “Is there a problem here?” I demand, gesturing at where my sister sits with her head bowed.

  She jerks her head my way and relief flashes in her eyes. It’s enough to have me wanting to yank Mr. Wright away from her. Instead, I fist my hands.

  He tilts his head to the side and pierces me with one of his stern glares, not moving from where he stands too close to my sister. “None of your business, Hale. Go on and wait in the hallway.”

  “Absolutely not,” I say lowly and take a step toward them. “I want to know what’s going on here and why she’s in trouble.”

  He clenches his jaw and glowers at me. Several of Amy’s friends think he’s hot because he’s not even thirty yet and fit. But he’s a massive asshole. I don’t like the way he talks to Rylie.

  “Rylie here,” he states as he points his finger in her face, “was sleeping in class and when I confronted her, asking her why, she shrugged at me. She’s disrespectful and rude, a trait that is clearly common in the Hale family.”

  I stalk the rest of the way over to him, loving the fact I’m taller and bigger than this prick. He glares up at me, clearly furious that I’m in his space. I could kick his ass if it ever came to it and he knows it. Using my intimidating stature, I back him away from my sister several steps.

  “If you have a problem with my sister, call my parents. I won’t have you bullying her.”

  His eye widen and his mouth parts. “I wasn’t—”

  “So she’s free to go?” I interrupt, the challenge hard in my stare.

  “I’ll be calling your parents,” he growls. “Get her out of here.”

  Rylie is already standing by the time I turn and regard her. She rushes over to me and clutches onto my arm, much like she does when something scares her. That fucker scared my sister. I want to turn around and deck him, but I know my mom would shit bricks if I screwed up my scholarship. Instead, I guide her out of the building and into the warm spring afternoon outside. We’re silent as we make it out to my truck. When we reach the vehicle, she stops. I turn my body to face her.

  “Thank you,” she utters, her cheeks turning pink. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Nobody fucks with the Hales,” I tell her with a lopsided grin. “Especially pervy assholes like Mr. Wright.”

  “He’s probably just mad because I don’t flirt and tell him how amazing he is,” she mutters and rolls her eyes. “I swear, he gets off on having a bunch of teenage girls giggling over how hot he is. For the record, I don’t think he’s hot.” Her lips tug on one side. A rare Rylie smile.

  She wraps her arms around my middle and hugs me. My sister may get on my nerves sometimes, but I still have the overwhelming urge to protect her from idiots like Mr. Wright.

  “Why were you sleeping in his class anyway?” I ask, my chin resting on the top of her head. “I overheard you talking. You’re depressed right now? Why?” I don’t understand her illness, but I want to.

  Her body tenses. “My mind is just a mess lately.”

  “Care to share?”

  “Not this. Not ever. Not to anyone.”

  The memory fades but the guilt remains. She’s always been suffering and I’ve never been man enough to put the time in to help her. Always someone else’s problem. Certainly not mine. Looking back, I wish I had listened to her and tried to help more. God, I feel so fucking terrible.

  I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot.

  To pick up my sister.

  Because she was so sad and upset and lonely, she tried to overdose.

  All I had to do was talk to her. Instead, I blew her off to get my dick sucked. When I park and head toward to the hospital, Aunt Becky and Uncle Randy are walking out. Rylie walks between them. Pale and broken. So fucking broken.

  “Want to ride with me?” I ask her as I approach.

  Her eyes lift to mine. Light brown like the coffee I had at the diner. But coffee never looked so fucking hopeless. “I guess.”

  I motion with my head and Aunt Becky flashes me a grateful look. Walking over to my beat-up truck, I open the door for my sister. She’s slow in her movements but manages to sit inside. Her fingers shake as she reaches for the seatbelt.

  “I’ve got it,” I assure her, my voice gruff with emotion.

  I tug the be
lt and stretch it across her tiny frame. So many times I buckled her in for Mom. This time feels different. I’m not helping my parent with my little sister. I’m having to be the parent for my little sister. The thought hits me hard and I shake it away.

  My world is shifting on its axis.

  Responsibilities are moving this way and that.

  A deep sense of protectiveness over my sister settles over me. She’s always been a nuisance. A bother. Someone whom I resented because she didn’t try. Now, I see it’s more than an attitude. Her brain is wired differently. The pain I’ve seen lately in her eyes is real. So real. A living, breathing organism inside her. Something that if I knew how to lure it out of her, I would. I’d take it and kill it. I’d free my sad sister of the way it suffocates her from the inside out.

  The truck starts and R.E.M. starts playing, “Everybody Hurts.” She sniffles from the passenger side as we drive. When I reach for her hand, she doesn’t pull away. With strength that surprises me, she squeezes my hand. As though I’ve thrown a raft into the choppy waters she’s been drowning in. The way she clings to me has me vowing nonverbally to the both of us that I’ll be a better brother to her. I won’t let her suffer alone. Not anymore.

  Our fingers link and I don’t let her go.

  The Hales are strong because we have to be.

  When we arrive at Aunt Becky’s big house, I let out a sigh as I shut off the truck. Rylie stares out the side window. The pain we both feel over the loss of our parents is a never-ending punch to the gut.

  “We should get inside,” I utter.

  “Don’t go.” She turns her teary gaze my way. “Please.”

  “I’ll stay for a while,” I promise. Coach will be upset I miss the game against Oklahoma State, but this is more important.

  She smiles at me. Brilliant and happy. A smile I don’t fucking deserve.