“Paris,” I grumble, never imagining that I would sound cross at the thought of going to Paris, France.
My best friend’s eyes bulge and her mouth falls open, where it stays. I watch, waiting for a bug to fly inside. “Paris?” She squeals, pushing herself up into a sitting position, her eyes still huge and her mouth still open wide. “You have got to be kidding me! Actually, you better not be, because I will so kill you. Are you serious, Tay?”
I nod. “Yup. He wants to take us to Paris to make up for all the shit he’s put us through these last few months.”
“No one said you had to forgive him to go on the trip. Just go and have fun, and stuff your best friend in one of your suitcases so she can tag along.” She sees my unsure expression and rolls her eyes. “It’s Paris for God’s sake! Go!”
∞
I never got the chance to tell Emily about the trip. But I guess she—like everyone else—read about it in the paper afterward. So much has happened. Thinking about it is weighing me down immensely. The past is haunting me today, more than usual. I can’t make the past fade to the back of my mind. I don’t want to think about any of it, ever again.
“I’m okay,” I finally tell Nathan.
He shakes his head at me, refusing to drop the topic. “That’s not good enough. I know that’s another word for ‘I’m not okay’ or ‘fine.’ So what’s wrong?”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper while I attempt to fight the tears that are trying to slip from my eyes. I speak softly, in fear that my voice will crack.
His whole posture stiffens beside me. There is a hum in the room that lingers between us as he thinks through his next words. “Because,” he finally says after a moment of dragged out silence, “I think you’ve been alone long enough.”
I choke back a sob. The heartache is unbearable. It feels like someone has my heart in their hand and is ever so slowly gripping tighter and tighter, preparing to crush it. I don’t want to cry. Not in front of him. I hate crying in general, but it’s so much worse when someone sees you shed your pain in tears.
He rests a hand on my knee before slowly standing. He towers over me, but I don’t look up. I don’t want him to see the tears that are swimming in my eyes. “Why don’t we go for a walk?” he suggests.
No. I don’t want to. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say them. I’m tired of fighting.
I get up, still keeping my head down as I follow him outside. It’s dark out. I hadn’t realized. Between the memories and subconsciously falling asleep, the day had turned into night. The hours had seemed like days as the past played out in my mind.
Neither of us say anything as we stroll down the street. I keep my eyes on my feet as I walk, not paying attention to where we’re going. I look up when the lights dim and see that we’ve crossed the street and are now standing in front of the Eiffel Tower.
I take the lead now, with Nathan on my heels as I head for the hedges. I brush them back and open the iron gate. Nathan follows suit.
The small park is bare, except for the same two ducks from the time that I fell asleep here. I glance over at Nathan. His eyes are shining as he takes in the tiny pond, the bench, and the twinkling lights. The dim lights that are scattered around the small park are reflecting in his gray-blue eyes, making him look excited.
I walk over to the bench and take a seat, staring down at the ducks that float on the surface of the pond. Nathan’s footsteps are faint as he lessens the distance between us. I look up just as he crouches in front of the pond. Even as I watch him, it’s hard to fight the memories that are trying to claw their way to the surface. I restrain the memories and keep my eyes on Nathan.
I look at him—I mean really look at him. Almost likes it’s the first time I’m seeing him. I’ve looked at him before, obviously, but not like this. Not in great detail. I analyze the way his dark brown hair rests just above his eyes, brushing against his dark lashes; the way his eyes continue to reflect the twinkling lights; the way his crimson T-shirt hugs his chest. I blink and shake the thoughts away.
He looks up then, and his eyes lock with mine. A powerful current shivers through me. He rises and comes to sit beside me. He’s close. Not even a foot away. I can’t decide if he’s too close…
“Is this where you come?” he asks, suddenly breaking the silence. “When you want to be alone?”
“It’s peaceful here,” I tell him.
“It’s nice,” he agrees. We’re silent for a long while, though it isn’t dead silent. Crickets are chirping, and the two ducks are quietly quacking as they float around the pond.
“Why can’t you just admit it?”
I glance sideways at him. “Admit what?”
“That you don’t want to be alone. Not really.”
“How would you know what I want?” I don’t snap at him; my voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, making me wonder if he even heard me.
His voice is almost as quiet as mine, yet confident as he answers, “The look in your eyes doesn’t match your words.”
His answer sends shock through my veins. I almost stiffen from the surprise. It was an answer I hadn’t been expecting. I don’t know what kind of look I have in my eyes, but it’s vibrant enough that it’s caught his attention.
“You say you want me to leave you alone,” he continues, staring off into the distance as he speaks, “but your eyes say that you’re lonely.”
I don’t know how to respond. He’s seen right through me. I’m tired of being alone. But I’ve been alone for so long I don’t know how to interact with someone else. I’m “unsocial” like he says I am. Broken.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to react. If there even is a right or wrong way to respond. I don’t like it that he can tell what I’m feeling. I don’t want him to know me so well.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asks once we’re standing at the top of the staircase in the alley of my apartment building.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him, looking at anything other than him. I can’t seem to look him in the eyes. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid of what he’ll see. I’m not lying. Maybe I will be okay. I just won’t know how I’m going to feel until I’m alone.
A faint smile pulls on the corners of his lips. “There’s that word again.”
“Is there another word I can use that won’t make you question my answer?”
“Great, exceptional, fantastic, super-duper. Just anything other than ‘fine,’ or ‘okay.’”
Despite myself, I smile at him, actually meeting his eyes, instead of staring off into the distance. He grins back with a nod. “There’s a smile.” His voice was so faint; I wonder if he even said anything at all. Maybe I just imagined it.
I take a step closer to the door. “See you around.”
“See you tomorrow,” he says back, confirming what I secretly hoped. My heart jumps, and I want to slap myself and remind myself that I can’t—that I shouldn’t see him again. I shouldn’t want to see him again. Part of me knows I should tell him not to come back—to leave me alone. But I can’t make the words come. They’re stuck to my tongue. Unable to be removed and spoken.
We both move at the same time but in opposite directions. I move toward the door; he moves down the stairs. I open the door, looking back at him one last time before slipping inside. He reaches the bottom of the steps just as I turn to look back at him. Our eyes meet, just for a second.
Then, as I slowly close the door, I can’t help but think of that quiet hum that had lingered between us earlier. And the door clicks shut, breaking our gaze.
CHAPTER TEN
As I Feared
As I feared, as the night’s events begin to fade, my thoughts become cluttered with thoughts that would leave anyone gasping for air. The pain is exasperating. Almost heart shattering. I try to focus on my breathing. Oxygen in; carbon dioxide out. Just breathe.
> Eventually, I fall asleep. It isn’t a dreamless sleep. It’s an all-too-consuming night of dreadful dreams. I toss and turn, wanting to escape the clutches of the dreamland.
∞
“You better send me pictures,” Emily tells me in a warning tone as she hugs me goodbye.
I hug her tightly, knowing I won’t get to hug her again for eleven days. “I will. I’ll text you so much; you’ll get tired of me. I’m gonna annoy the hell out of you.” She pulls away, grinning.
“All right you two,” Mom says, coming up behind me. Her purse is in one hand, and she’s pulling a suitcase along in the other. “Stop being so dramatic; it’s not like you’ll never see each other again. We need to go, Taylor.”
Emily and I embrace one last time—clueless to the fact that we indeed will never see each other again—before I pull away and climb into the car with my parents to head to the airport.
The ride to the airport is longer than I had anticipated. At least, that’s what I thought until I glanced at the clock. Only an hour has gone by, but it seemed much longer thanks to the arguments from the front seats. I sit in the back, quietly listening to my parents bicker about the smallest things.
Mom hasn’t forgiven Dad yet. They’ve been arguing more and more. Whenever Dad comes home, Mom has to check his breath to believe his claim of soberness. He argues that she doesn’t trust him. She tells him that he’s right and that she has a right not to after what he’s put us through these last few months.
I, for one, am glad she’s checking this. I want to know if he’s had so much as a sip.
They also argue about his alcoholism meetings. He tells her he doesn’t need to go, that he won’t drink ever again if it means she won’t leave him. She argues that if he wants her to stay, he’ll keep going to the meetings.
I don’t trust him yet either. And I intend to watch him like a hawk while we’re on this little family vacation.
∞
My eyes snap open with alertness. Why all these memories are suddenly surfacing from the back of my mind: I’ll never know the answer. Each memory plays out one after the other, barely giving me time to calm down after the last one.
This memory is mostly of Emily, and how I never saw my best friend again, and of how my mother and I intended to keep a watchful eye on Dad. The airplane ride wasn’t as bad as the car ride, because I sat between my parents, not giving them the opportunity to argue about whether they should get peanuts or pretzels when the flight attendant asked.
After we got off the plane, though—that was when things went straight to hell.
I suck in a breath as the next memory comes, wondering why I can’t just lock them away in the vault in the back of my mind, so I never have to think of them again.
∞
I’m standing in front of the Arc de Triomphe, snapping pictures to send to Emily. We arrived two days ago. I haven’t had the chance to talk to her, and I haven’t sent any pictures. Mom and I had spent the last two days in museums, and I didn’t feel the need to send her shots of old paintings that she wouldn’t care about in the first place.
I’m sure she’s upset or angry that I haven’t messaged her once since we’ve arrived but I’ve been too busy trying to keep my parents in line to care much.
When we’d gone out to dinner last night, Mom had ordered a glass of red wine, glancing in my father’s direction with a look that said, don’t you dare get anything to drink but water. The look put him in an irritable mood the rest of the night until Mom finally confronted him about what his “damn problem was.” He, again, accused her of not trusting him and told her to give him some slack—that he’s doing fine without her scowling at him at the dinner table.
“Excuse me if trusting you isn’t the easiest thing in the world after all the drinking you’ve been doing these last few months!” I hear Mom snap from my parents’ room. Only a wall separates our two rooms, and it’s a thin wall.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Cathy,” Dad snaps right back. “If I think I can have one drink without caving, I can!”
“One drink is all it takes for an alcoholic to cave, Parker.”
“If I think I can handle it; I should be able to have a glass.”
“Parker, no.” Her tone comes out desperate—sad—this time. I hear the door open before slamming shut on my mother’s words. It’s silent for a long time. Before I finally hear a faint thud.
I slowly climb out of bed and head for the slightly open door that separates our hotel rooms. I peek through the slit of the door. Mom is on her knees on the floor, staring across the room at the door my father just walked out of. Tears are streaming down her face as she sits there, quietly crying to herself.
My heart clenches so hard a gasp escapes my lips. For a second—maybe even a heartbeat longer—I hate my father. I hate him for what he’s doing to her.
I move away from the door to give her some privacy and climb back into bed, fighting my own tears.
It feels like only five minutes go by before I’m woken up again. I jolt up and look toward my parents’ bedroom. The light is off—the room is dark—but someone had just slammed a door. My heart drops when the light snaps on.
“Parker?” My mother’s voice comes out groggily.
“See, honey?” I shake my head, never taking my eyes off the still-slightly-open door. His words are slurred. “I can contain myself to one drink!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I Am Empty
I can’t think of anything that makes me happy. I can’t think of anything that can make me smile through the tears right now. I can’t recall a happy memory. I can hardly breathe. It feels like someone is squeezing my heart, trying to crush it between their fingers.
It’s an overwhelming feeling of despair.
This feeling is all too familiar.
I’ve felt like this before. It’s worse this time, though. The regret and gripping sadness has never been so prominent—so undeniable. I can’t push back the feelings, the memories, the past; none of it. It’s all there, weighing me down.
It’s almost like there’s a hole in my chest. A gaping hole that can’t be fixed. I’m a cup that can never be filled. I’m an empty glass.
I’m nothing.
I’m empty.
I’m going downhill.
I’m falling.
Falling.
I’m— I hear the door open. Though my bedroom door opens, I don’t move. I can’t move. Not even when he says my name. I stay, frozen, staring up at the ceiling.
Silence swarms the room. I’m too consumed by my heavy thoughts to know if it’s an awkward silence. I don’t know what kind of silence it is, but I know that it’s Nathan who is standing in my doorway.
A few more quiet moments pass, before the bed shifts and he’s suddenly lying beside me. He doesn’t say anything. He just lays beside me. I don’t feel his eyes on me, so he must be staring up at the web-infested ceiling, too.
He doesn’t ask me what’s wrong. He doesn’t try to comfort me. For what seems like minutes, he just lies next to me without saying a word when, in reality, an hour passes. I feel nothing during that time that passes.
“Did you eat today?” he asks me when he finally breaks the silence.
I shake my head, my hair knotting against my pillow. The bed shifts again, and he’s no longer beside me. I feel his fingers graze against the top of my hand. I keep my eyes locked upward, despite the startling tremor that jolts through me from the light touch. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” He leaves then, without another word.
I continue to lie there for several minutes, considering getting up if it will distract me. I feel sluggish, unmotivated. Getting out of bed will be difficult.
When I finally move, it feels unnatural. After lying still all night and nearly all day, standing and moving feels unnatural—foreign, even.
My body is stiff as I make my way to the window seat. I take to staring out the window rather than the ceiling. Twenty minutes pass before I s
ee his dark brown hair bobbing down the street. My heart thuds as I wait for him to come. I don’t know why it’s beating slightly faster than before, but it is, and I can’t make it beat normally.
A few more minutes pass before my bedroom door opens, and Nathan walks in. Carrying a white paper bag, he walks forward until he reaches me and holds the bag out to me. “Here.”
I hesitantly reach for it, opening it to find a few burgers inside. My stomach growls, making me realize that I’m actually very hungry. He takes a seat across from me on the window, folding his leg over the edge. I watch him as he takes the other burger out of the bag. He’s nonchalant as if he bought burgers for homeless girls every day and came back to an abandoned building to eat with her. We’re both silent as we take our first few bites.
He is, as usual, the first one to break the silence. “Do you want to play twenty questions?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t feel like playing any games.”
He nods. “Okay, what about a walk? Do you want to go on a walk?”
I shake my head, again. “No.” Silence follows my answer. I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff, preparing to jump. I don’t know what I want, only what I don’t want. I feel so distant from everything around me that I might as well haven’t been there at all. There isn’t a way for me to convey this to him. And, regardless, I couldn’t bring myself to share this with him.
“Okay. It looks like you’re going to be fun today.”
My head snaps up, and I scowl at him. “Then just leave.”
“Are you seriously gonna pull that whole ‘I want to be alone’ charade again?”
I jump to my feet, angry now. “I don’t want to go on a walk, and I don’t want to play any dumb games. I can’t bring myself to be ‘fun’ today, so just go.” I storm out of the room and into the living room. Nathan comes up behind me quickly and grabs my arm before I can make it out of the apartment. “Wait.”
I pause, turning around against my better judgment. I don’t want to argue. I want to be alone. I just need to be alone right now. I need to stop feeling these things. I need to end this. I need to make it all stop. I need to make it all go away.
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