She’s imprinted in my mind’s eye—wild eyes, frantic thoughts, caustic words—and even though I know I should probably respect her wishes, even in such a state, I have to follow her. I’m worried now, chilled to the bone, and it feels like I’ll never be warm again.
Snatching my keys off the hook in the kitchen, I start up the truck and floor it, looking for her. I don’t know what I’ll do when I find her, but I need to know she’s okay.
But I don’t see her. Damn, how fast was she running? I go down side streets and cul de sacs, hoping to catch a glimpse of her but it’s getting darker and darker and if she’s out there, she blends in with the shadows. Maybe she wised up and went home? Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I turn down the street she lives on and go a few miles.
My gut sinks like a lead weight as I approach her house—and the small gathering of people forming a circle around a fallen form. “Teagan!” I half-ass parallel park and kick open the door, running to the small crowd that’s gathered. In the distance I hear the wail of an ambulance but it doesn’t stop me from shoving my way to the front of the group. In the center of all of it, Teagan lies motionless on the ground, legs splayed, her head turned to one side. “Teagan…” I drop to my knees beside her and reach for her, but an older man grabs my shoulder and gives me a little shake.
“Ambulance is on its way, sonny,” he says gently and I feel my eyes begin to burn. I nod over and over again, numb, and just stare down at her fallen form, listening to the hush of whispers around me. She passed out. Someone saw her running. One minute she was upright and the next, bam. She collided with the cement. All I can think is her name on wicked repeat as I watch the crowd part ways for a stretcher and two EMS guys.
“Sir? Excuse me. Do you know this girl?” one of them asks me as the other checks her over, takes her vitals.
All I can do is watch, feeling an emptiness begin at the very core of me. “Yeah. Her name is Teagan Blakely. She’s my girlfriend. We had a fight… Is she going to be okay?” Her neck is secured in a brace. The two of them turn their backs to me as they lift her onto the stretcher. Her hand hangs limp off the edge for a moment before they rearrange her arm. I swallow back nausea. Please be okay…
The taller man turns back to me, calm and ever-patient. “Does she have any family we can contact? Parents? Siblings?”
My chest squeezes. “No,” I say. “She’s…she doesn’t talk to her family anymore. They live in a different state, but I don’t know where. She’s really secretive about all of it. Can I ride with her? I don’t want her to wake up alone.”
The men exchange a look. The plumper guy looks ready to argue, but the taller one’s my saving grace. “You have a vehicle?” When I nod, he says, “Follow us to the hospital. I’ll make sure you get in to see her.” He claps me on the back with one large hand. “She’s gonna be okay, kid. Don’t look so blue.”
He straightens up and shuts the back doors of the ambulance, sealing Teagan away from me as if he just sealed off any oxygen I might breathe.
The flashing lights are a beacon that leads the way.
I sit in the waiting room, alone, for what seems like forever, my left knee bobbing up and down quickly as a way to burn off the nerves burning through me at a frantic pace. Lyrics splash through my head, formed of angst and pain but this time, I let the words slip through my mind, never to be tamed into a song. All I can think is: Teagan. Teagan. Teagan. Her name branded into my mind, on my lips as I whisper it to myself, probably looking like a maniac until finally my name is called back.
The doctor on call explains the situation—stress and overexertion caused her to pass out. She’s okay. No signs of concussion but they are going to keep her overnight just in case. Feeling guilt nip at my heart, I tell him that Teagan’s been really depressed and stressed out lately due to family issues. He tells me that he’ll look into it and then all we have left to discuss is payment. Even though Teagan will probably shank me for taking on something else that she feels is her responsibility, I pay the hospital bills, in full, without a word. That’s one less stress for her to have to worry about and in my head, that’s worth it.
I’m there with her when she finally comes around, sitting in the chair beside the hospital bed, my fingers making indents in the soft leather armrests. She looks around slowly, baffled and a little bit scared, touching her head with one hand and I feel myself smiling. But when she sees me, her face darkens as if she suddenly remembers everything. “Go home, Eli,” she says, her voice low and paper-thin. “You don’t need to be here.”
“I feel like I do,” I tell her. I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees as I stare at her, stare deep into her eyes as if our souls might touch if I look hard enough. “I love you, Teagan Marie. That’s not changing just because of an argument. Okay?”
She looks away, refusing to meet my eyes, and somehow her silence hurts worse than anything she might’ve said with bite. I take in a deep breath and let it back out again, slowly, and the minutes tick by. Neither of us says a word. She lies back in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, but I can tell her mind is crammed full of unanswered questions and worries and fears and I ache for her.
“I mean it,” I murmur, the words somehow tearing at my throat, ragged.
“I know,” she replies just as softly, closing her eyes. “But I want you to leave. I just… I need time.”
“Okay. Call me, Teagan.” No answer. I stand, heart pounding loud in the silence of the small room. I reach to touch her shoulder, then stop and drop my hand back to my side. “Take care of yourself,” I say as I leave her behind. My throat is tight and swollen, but I forced the emotions back. I make sure everything’s taken care of at the front desk and ask a nurse to check on her. She promises she will, so I go home.
But I don’t sleep. I just can’t get my head shut off.
~*~
She doesn’t call me. A day goes past, then two days, and two days turns to four and I’m climbing the walls, worried about her, hoping she’s okay. Jake’s there to talk me back down, his voice calm and lulling to my scrambled mind.
“Just chill. She’s going through some shit, obviously. She just needs space and the last thing you want to do is pressure her. Okay? Now sit your ass down and eat this meal I so painstakingly crafted for you.” He slaps me on the back and hands me a plate of baked chicken nuggets and too-crispy French fries. Even though I’m not the least bit hungry, Jake’s eyeing me like he might rip off my arms and shove it down my throat in a tube if I don’t eat, so I smile and choke it down. “There ya go, buddy.”
Later in the afternoon, I’m forced to endure a call from my father. He grills me on school, on my grades, on what I’m learning, on if I’m keeping up with extra-curriculars. He never once asks about the band—he never does—but he has the cajones to ask if the “girl I’m seeing” is in school and what her grade point average is. Anger building inside of me, I snap at him and cut the call short, even though I’ll never hear the end of how disrespectful I am. Frankly? I don’t give a fuck.
“You wanna jam? Soothe the savage beast with some music, bro?” Jake asks. “We have shit to practice, after all.”
“Why?”
Jake looks at me like I’ve grown antlers. “Uh, the EP? The recording sessions? I set them up last week?” I just stare at him. He groans and throws up his hands. “I told you about this! We are not missing them. Do you know how expensive recording an EP in a studio is? We’re getting a discount because the dude likes our sound, remember? You will not bail on this, so help me God—”
“Shut up,” I grumble. “I said we’d do it, so we’ll do it. Let me just…go bang on your drum set for awhile, let me get it out of my system. Then we’ll practice. Okay?”
“Be careful with my precious.”
“When am I never?” I snerk back. He raises his hands in defense and whistles low. I flip him the bird and stomp downstairs to burn off all my frustration, my anger, my worry on the therapy that is music.
B
ut even after Jake and I swap instruments and I take up the keyboard, tunes rolling from the set of speakers, I don’t sing. I don’t sing because I feel like if I open my mouth, instead of lyrics, all that will come out is a wailing keen. Because when I sing, I think of Teagan and when I think of Teagan, I feel like my sanity is slowly slipping away and I have to wonder: Will she come back to me?
And if she doesn’t? Call me melodramatic, but I don’t know what I’ll do.
Twenty Four
Teagan
I lay in bed every night, blankets tugged up to my chin, my oscillating fan turned on for white noise as I focus on breathing. Deep breaths, breathing from the belly as I try and relax every tight and knotted muscle in my body, but my body doesn’t want to give in. My body is fighting me every step of the way and it results in frustration and tears.
I’m eating herbal sleep remedies like they’re candy and still, there’s no relief, no shelter from the storm. My mind won’t turn off; it just keeps tossing and turning and mocking me, guilt-tripping me. I’m failing two classes—that just piles more stress onto the mountain I’m already dealing with, because I’m failing and I don’t know how to stop. I can’t afford to take the classes again and I hate it, I hate school, I hate having to do this. I don’t even want to be in the medical field; it’s just something I chose to eventually have a career to pay the bills.
More than anything, I want the world to stop, just stop spinning and let me breathe. I can’t fucking breathe. I’m on the edge, teetering on the brink of despair, my happiness fleeing farther and farther away. It’s on the run from me, because there’s a monster hiding beneath the skin of a scared little girl and slowly, that monster is winning…and I hate it. But I don’t know how to stop. I’m on a runaway train that’s careening dangerous out of control.
This can only end in pain.
I know Eli must hate me. The dejected look on his face, that day at the hospital? It haunts my every waking minute, but I can’t be with him right now. I can’t be with anyone, because I don’t even know who I am anymore. How can I be that person for him? Be that person he needs? And Dakota… I haven’t talked to her since the day we fought. She stopped texting after a week of no replies. Is she giving up on me too? Do I blame her?
I just…don’t know what to do anymore and it scares me.
There’s a soft knock on my door, the sound echoing through me like a physical thing. My chest knots up as I look around and for a moment, I get the sudden thought to pretend that I’m not even here, but the TV’s blaring in the background, my little escape from reality. Whoever’s knocking knows someone’s home.
Taking in a shaky breath, I unlock the door and open it a crack, just wide enough to look out, and find Eli standing in the doorway, a small bouquet of white lilies in his hands and a hopeful smile on his face.
“Can we talk?”
I don’t move. I just stare at him, that emptiness in my heart spreading out into my entire body, feeling hollowed out and cold and alone. “What?” I finally manage, looking him in the eye. “Eli, I can’t…”
“Please, Teagan, just hear me out.”
But I don’t want to hear what he has to say, his endless apologies because I can’t counter back with anything worthwhile. My soul is empty and starving and Eli is brilliance, radiance, a being of light that I’ll only consume if he gets too close. “I don’t want to do this right now. I’m not—I’m not right right now, and I don’t know how to be what you need me to be. I can’t be that. I can’t. I’m broken, Elias.” My breath hitches. “I’m not a good person and I can’t do this. You deserve so, so much better than me.”
He stares at me, gripping the flowers in his hands, his face pale and his eyes wounded. He looks like a kicked puppy and it makes me want to cry but I bite back the impulse, stuff the emotions back down my clogged throat. But, “I don’t want anyone else,” he murmurs and now the dam is leaking, hot tears sluicing down my cheeks, and all I can do is shake my head.
“I want you to go. Go home. Go away. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” My entire body shaking, I press my hands flat against the door and shut it gently in his face. Then I collapse against the doorframe and begin to cry, silent sobs that wrack through me with the force of a hurricane. I know he’s standing there, right there on the other side of the door, but after a little while his footsteps fade away and I sag to my knees, arms wrapped around myself as the pain rushes in anew. Oh, Eli.
I need to go, need a change of pace, maybe get some fresh air. Grabbing my purse and slinging it over my shoulder, I open the door and step on the crinkle of pink cellophane. He left the lilies on the welcome mat. I reach down and gingerly take them, smell them, let their soft fragrance wash over me. Bringing them with me, I get in my car and drive the distance to the beach. My shoes sink into the soft sand as I walk across the beach, watching the waves lap at the shoreline with grace and dignity.
I kick off my shoes and peel off my socks and wade into the surf. The water is crisp against my ankles, sucking and lapping at my feet as I continue to walk. Gulls cry overhead; a couples’ laughter joins it from several paces away as they play-wrestle in the shallows. I stare up at the true-blue sky and watch the clouds breeze by.
I sit on the beach for what seems like forever, as the sun begins to fade and give way to nighttime, as the temperatures drop and my damp jeans cling to my legs. I let my mind wander, but it chooses to wander the nothingness. The lilies lay in my lap, drooping a little bit, looking as sad as I feel. They need a drink, but I know salt water would be a sure suicide. Instead, I begin to pluck the velveteen petals and let them flutter to the ground around me to pepper the sand, one by one.
I’m so sorry…
As evening begins to turn everything shadowy and blue, I stand up and head back across the beach, still barefoot, shoes in one hand and the wilting lilies in the other as I breathe in the fresh air, and it’s almost nice. I feel calmer, more sure of myself and of the thoughts going through my head.
But that peace is shattered in one solid kick as my phone shrieks through the silence. I stop, all the anger and sadness and frustration and desperation I felt before, it all rushes back, kicking it up a notch. Teeth grinding together, I drop my shoes to the ground. I fish my phone out of my pocket—it’s Tierney, I know it is—and I swipe my finger across the screen.
“Tierney.” My voice is reedy and thin and destined to break.
She doesn’t hesitate. “Meghan—”
I start out soft, but my volume rises with the anxiety boiling up in my chest, begging to be set free. “Stop calling me. Just stop, okay? I don’t know what you want from me, but whatever it is, I can’t give it to you. I can’t do this anymore! Okay? Please, stop. I’m begging you. Leave me alone, just leave me be!” I cry.
“Listen to what I have to say for one second!” she shouts back. “Meghan, please just listen!”
“You don’t understand. I can’t. I can’t.” Tears welling, I pull my phone away from my ear even as my sister’s screeching intensifies on the other end of the line. Heart thudding, I wind my arm back with everything that I am and throw my phone. It flies out of my grip and sails gracefully through the air, farther and farther, before landing with a splash to sink to the bottom of the lake. I break down, crying hard, everything unraveling out of control. “I can’t.”
I want to forget. Forget everything that ever happened, to lose all memory of my childhood, to lose those horrible years of my life and just… Let it go. Be done. I drop to my knees in the sand, wetness wicking into my jeans, and my hands fall down to greet the earth as well, clawing at the ground, flinging sand back and forth as I let it all out. Really break down. Really lose it. I’m going crazy and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
My fingers brush against something cool, coming to wrap around a large shard of glass, no doubt from a broken bottle someone carelessly tossed into the lake. The glass is a dark amber, glinting in the moonlight, and my fingers close tightly around it. I cry out loud,
a low wail of pain and sorrow into the night as I press the sharp edge of the glass against my wrist. One long cut, then another, blood billowing to the surface to run down my wrist…but there’s no relief, no escape from the pain I feel on the inside. “No.”
I stare down at the fresh wounds, slick flaps of skin covered with the sheen of blood as red spatters into the sand. My breaths are shaky and uneven. I make another slice and feel nothing. Nothing at all. No pain, no relief, only numbness. Release has forsaken me, leaving me empty and cold as terror winds its way through my chest, wrapping around my very veins and squeezing, an emotional aneurism.
I want nothing more than to disappear. I want to evaporate. I can’t do this anymore, can’t keep putting on this charade. I drop the sticky shard of glass and reach for Eli’s lilies, clinging them to my chest as I cry. Oh, Eli… I’ve fucked everything up. I miss him, I still love him even though I don’t know how love is possible, but my loneliness for him is like a weight on my chest that won’t let up.
“Eli.” Sudden and sharp, I need him. Need to feel his strong arms around me, need to feel the way he held me, his voice so gentle and his words so calm. I stagger to my feet and, leaving my car parked in the lot of the Dairy Sweet, I make my way across town by foot. I walk all the way to his apartment, my mind a muddy mess, my shirt and jeans stained with blood as my wrist begins to ache.
I knock on the door, sniffling back tears. Honestly? I don’t know what he’ll say, or what he’ll do, and I’m scared out of my mind but something has to give. I just need to hear his voice… I hear the deadbolt slide and the door pops open to reveal a disheveled, grumpy Eli—but the minute he lays eyes on me, his entire posture softens. “God! Teagan? Are you okay?” he asks, wide-eyed and ashen-faced and I nod, numb, and reach for him.
Neverlost (Melodies and Memories) Page 13