by Lipa Nandes
As we entered, I heard the boys' voices coming down the hall. I looked at Patrick and tried to take him to the bedroom because I needed to sleep; I wanted to sleep. I was so exhausted, so tired that I felt that if I lay in bed, I would finally be able to sleep.
But unlike what I was waiting for, Patrick pulled my hand out of the living room, along the way he looked at me and told me; "Just five minutes and then we're going to the bedroom."
If it's only five minutes I don't mind staying, I thought, the problem is that those five minutes can stretch much longer than expected and I can lose myself again in what I don't want. I have to stay away from alcohol, drugs, there are times when I think I have to stay away from Patrick, but at the moment, this is not a real option for me.
We get into the living room, and I sat next to Miles.
As always, there was a bottle of Jack on the table and some empty bottles of beers, weed and cocaine. There was also a joint roll among all, and when it came to me.
"I pass," said with a trembling voice. Patrick looked at me a little confused as Miles passed the joint to his hand. I was controlling all the urges of my body to keep me sober in all aspects of my life, but close to them, this task will be much more difficult. But I know I have to be strong, I need to get away, even if I'm just in the room, it'll be enough to keep me from falling into the old temptation.
"Pat, I'm going to bed. I'm tired." He did not answer me; he sat on the couch with a look so far away from me. Sometimes I cannot understand it, and it gets increasingly frustrating to try to be in this kind of relationship. Although mine is still a growing fetus, I need to learn to deal with these somewhat childish attitudes on his part.
I got up off the couch, said goodbye to the boys, and went into the bedroom. As I climbed the stairs, a strange feeling caught me entirely by surprise, that is to say, not wholly by surprise because I think there was a possibility of this happening to me, I did not believe it was so fast. It was an empty feeling, of loss, of—Disgust!
I found myself completely wrecked with the turnaround my life got after I got out of rehab, having gone to that fucking party at Kyle's house. Fuck, I hate myself every day for this shit.
When I entered the room, I didn't even bother to take off my clothes; I lay down on the bed, hoping to fall asleep fast enough not to allow my mind to take off.
I don't know how long it must have been since I went to bed, because Pat does not have a thunderbolt in the room, but I woke up completely drenched with my sweat, my mind became extremely wild, and I could not control it. It was happening so fast inside my head that I could barely breathe. It was too real to be just a fantasy or an illusion created by me.
Without even thinking about the consequences I got out of bed, and Patrick still had to be downstairs because I was still alone in the bed, out of the room I went downstairs and went into the living room.
They were still there. Patrick, Miles, Ryan, and Isaac.
"What's up?" Patrick asked me with some concern in his voice.
"I can not sleep, I guess... Give me a glass of Jack, please," I asked him ultimately defeated by my own mind.
Patrick poured me a glass of whiskey, but a drink for me was never enough, and when I could look at the bottle again, it was empty.
Sometimes I feel the need to open my head, take my brain out of there and leave it in a jar completely dipped in alcohol, or else swap it with someone and get rid of my problem once and for all.
***
A week has passed since I left the house, and no one in my family even tried to contact me. I believe no one cares about me right now.
But I must confess that it has been the loneliest week in my life, not even in rehab I felt so lonely. Patrick has almost twice as much work every day; I've been drinking and smoking more than what I was supposed to every day. I've been disconnected from everything every day, but always with the feeling that I'm missing something.
I pick up my cell phone, which sits next to me on the couch, and starts scrolling through my contact list, ending up in Marcus's name.
If I call him, will he answer me?
Shit! I'm completely drunk and high, and I don't know if it's a good idea to call him, but my lack of insight got the better of me, and when I found myself, his voice was already in my ear. Fuck!
"What do you want," he asked me in a hard, aggressive tone.
"Can we talk? I need to talk to someone—" I said, dragging all my words, this shit will not go well.
"No Clark, we cannot."
What? Do I hear right, or am I hallucinating?
"Please, please, Marcus, I need to talk to you," I begged him.
"You're not going to do this to me again, are you listening? You will not drag me back to your shit, okay. It's incredible how you can always turn attention to your side, you take me to the limit and then when I think that you are changing, that you are ready to move on you fuck everything up again and you become the same person that I hate; that's nobody likes."
Oh my god, he's really saying me this? What the fuck.
"Marcus—" I tried to interrupt.
"Shut up, Clark, please just shut up. Do you think you can come here and take me back to this sick situation? You know what, fuck you, Clark, okay, I needed you back then, and I still need you. You are my best friend, and I adore you, but at this moment I really need my best friend in my life, but you completely erased it, you transformed her into ashes, and as long as you don't change, as long as you continue like this, you and I cannot continue to be friends. I'm done with you like this and your shit, and you cannot keep doing this to me." He hung up the call, and I was completely confused by everything he practically shouted at my ear.
I'd never seen him like this; I'd never seen him go through with someone like that. What do I do now?
I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'm sure that getting out and driving without any destination will help me think, I hope so. I need to distract myself.
This week has killed me every day, and now, at this very moment, life left me knockout.
Marcus's words keep blow in my mind - "as long as you don't change; we cannot be friends," he said.
But how does he want me to handle this? How am I supposed to handle this? I have no idea what I'm going to do.
I dragged myself into the car, sat down in the driver's seat, rubbed my eyes, and tried to bring all my concentration to drive.
chapter twenty one
kyle
It's been over a week now since she left, and I still don't know where she is, or what she's doing right now. I know I've lost her again for him, but I have to find her. I have to tell her that I love her more than anything else in this world. And although she is right that while she was in rehab, I didn't go to visit her or try to keep in touch with her, doesn't mean that I stopped one moment to another to love her! I didn't want to see her in that place, not after her mother told me that the four times she visited, she looked like a zombie because of all the medication she was taking. That wasn't how I wanted to remember her!
I know that probably for her none of this makes sense and that she needed me alongside her to show her that it was worth fighting and that I would be there to help her overcome this thing of alcohol, drugs, the obsessive need to write. I want to set her free for all of it.
I failed her the moment I went to college; I should have waited a year for her, I should have stayed here. I caused this!
Worse than that is the guilty I was feeling, I've failed her as soon as she's come home. And now, she's with him again!
My cell phone started vibrating, taking me out of my thoughts, my fear increased as her name appeared on the screen!
It took me a little while to answer because I was not quite sure what to say to her. But still; "Clark?" I tried to keep my voice neutral and casual, but my mind couldn't stop for a second to worry about her.
"Whatss app..." She answered me by dragging every word out of her mouth. Shit, she went back to drinking again, I knew it
!
"You're—” It's so hard for me to say these word;"drunk?" I don't know why I asked her this; when I already knew the answer!
"Nope." She giggles. "I'm a little loose..." She said, whispering!
"Where are you?"
"Tell me something. What is the name of your father's boat? I'm sorry, it's not a boat, isn't it? It's a yaaaacht!" She giggles again. "My father has one too, you know that!?"
Is she delirious? How drunk is she? Is she is Cabrillo? Alone at this time of night?
"Of course you do; you know everything, don't you?" She adds.
"What? Where are you?" I asked, deeply worried with her. I didn't want anything wrong to happen to her.
I left my room, went straight to the garage, took the keys to my car, and drove to the marina without ever turning off her call.
"Wait! I think I found him," - She said, laughing. - " Hey! Your father has to change the name of your boat..." I could hear her breathing a little gasp, her voice was fade, and I have to get to her as soon as possible.
"This boat is not Adams's family..." I could feel her anger and rage in that sentence. "This boat belongs to liars," She added. But she was not right! She also lied to me, and I'm willing to move on with her, if she wants and if she let me try to do that!
Suddenly I heard a strange sound coming from the other side, her voice was distant, and I could not hear her breathing anymore.
"Sorry, my phone falls!" She stayed a second or two in silence and then her rage against me began - "Wait! Why I even call you in the first place? I really really hate you motherfucker!" I hate it when she talks to me like that; she should not even speak to anyone like that! I know she's not like that, she never was!
Until now.
She hung up the phone, and I start to feel even more worried about her.
Goddammit Clark. I begin to speed up my drive to get to her before anything terrible happened to her.
I pass by the red lights; I didn't stop at the crossroads, I just was a lunatic behind the wheel.
When I got to the marina parking lot, I saw her car. She didn't even park it right, took two places leaving the car between the two spaces. I got out of my car running and headed for my dad's yacht.
Along the way, I tried to think of the various things I have to tell her, but how?
Will she believe me?
She has to believe me. I know she loves me the way I love her; she just needs some help to understand that.
When I got to the yacht, utterly breathless, I instantly feel the whiskey scent.
What the hell did you do Neva?
I went down the stairs and made no noise; to found her lying on the couch, barefoot and clinging to them.
She was so peaceful at the time.
I sat down in the small space on the sofa and just stared at her.
I've known this girl since she was six years old since she moved to the USA.
I wonder how many people should know that she is Portuguese. How many people have heard her speak Portuguese? I understood nothing of what she said when she talked to me, but it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
I was delighted with her from the first day I saw her, it's true!
But I made sure that I wanted her to be my first and last girlfriend in the summer of 2010.
Our parents had this thing of summer break. I stayed with her parents and with her brothers in the lake house. And on the Christmas holidays, her parents came to our home during that time.
So I spent a lot of time with her, more than with her brothers, who are my best friends.
But in the summer of 2010, I knew she was the most special girl to meet. I have this privilege, I know her like no one else, I know of her little things that nobody else knows. But it's these little things that make me deeply in love with her.
During these summer break, while Neva and I explored the rails once more, she saw the saddest thing in her life.
On the floor beside a pine tree was a small squirrel that had succumbed, perhaps hungry or thirsty.
I never forget her face at that moment, her eyes were flooding with tears, her voice disappearing every time she tried to speak, and then she ran to me to hug me. When she reached my arms, the tears came hard against those little dark brown eyes.
After a few minutes in silence with her in my arms, she moved away from my stomach looking at me, and in a softer voice; "Can we make him a funeral?"she asked me through sobs.
That question caught me off guard, but still, I acceded to her request.
With her small hands, she made a small hole beside the pine tree, while I picked up a large green leaf on the ground. Then she picked up the little squirrel with the leaf and buried it as gently as possible.
Then we stood there in silence as if that squirrel were a pet for her.
Minutes later, and feeling unable to continue down the path, she asked me to go back home. She had been deeply sad, but she is this way, she is very sentimental, susceptible to this kind of things. But I could not let her remain in sadness, I had to do anything to cheer her up, so when we got home, I went to talk to her parents.
I asked them if we all could go to the paintball underground. After a glance between them, they agreed.
So we all went out, and when we arrived at the paintball underground, her eyes and lips smile at me.
Of course, bratty as she gets to be sometimes, things didn't turn out so well for me as soon as she picked up the paintball gun.
She unintentionally carried the trigger, striking me in the leg with a color bullet. I must confess that hurt a lot, but right now, I just wanted the pain I feel be like that. Because after a few minutes, the pain disappeared. But when I see her like this? The pain ran into me.
How is it possible for her to have reached this state? How could I let this happen to her?
The problem has always been one about Clark. She is too kind and too generous to be in this sort of madness world. She has a heart so large and so plentiful that any loser tries to take advantage of her.
Now she's a girl with broken dreams, the whole universe inside her has disappeared, and her heart has been broken into a thousand pieces, and I can see them scattered on the floor right now; along to the whiskey bottle.
"Clark," I called to try to wake her. Maybe I should not do this, but, I need to talk to her and I need her to speak to me; "Clark," I called again, this time touching her leg, wagging it a little.
Slowly her eyes widened and when her eyes hit mine.
"What do you want?" She answered, roughly.
"Talk to you."
She squeezed her small feet with her hands, hunching against her chest more and more to avoid any contact with me, but I was curious to know why she managed to fall asleep like that.
"Why are you clinging to your feet? Are you hurt?" I asked her.
She looked at me out of the corner of her eyes and answered me still in a slightly tired voice.
"Crabs want to eat my feet." She assured me firmly. I could not help but laugh at that answer; it was so typical of her, the real Neva.
chapter twenty-two
kyle
"What you're laughing at? What's so funny?" She asked me in a sleepy voice.
"Nothing, it's just—"This girl makes me nervous, so much, that sometimes I forget how much I have to tell her - "It's just that I miss the real Neva, you know."
She didn't say anything to me, the words she wanted to say came out so muffled that they vanished into the air between us. Then she started to cry; I hate when she cries, I hate to see her like this, completely destroyed, with a broken heart and mind and I don't know how can I fix her, I don't know what I can do to get her back to screen.
I wanted to hold her, wipe away her tears, but I didn't want her to explode, to leave me, to run away from me again. If this is as close as I can be to her, even if her suffering kills me, I accept. I accept not to touch her, not take care of her if it allows me to be near her.
When did I lose her?
I have so many things I want to talk to her about—
My thoughts were cut off the moment I felt her head lie on my legs. This completely broken girl was looking for comfort in me, something that maybe the guy who has her cannot give. Despite the fear, I let my hand rest on her head, and begin to run my hand through her long dark brown hair. I had forgotten how good it feels the scent of her hair coming into my nostrils. As always, her hair smells like honey, which reminds me of another typical Yellow moment. One summer afternoon at her house, while she was washing her hair in the outside shower nearby the pool, she began to be chased by the bees, the scent of honey from the shampoo must have attracted the bees that just stop following her when she plunged back into the pool.
How I missed those times when I was what she needed, the longing I have to hug her out of nowhere just because I miss her, I miss kissing her, have her in my arms.
"Why did you leave me?" She asked me through tears and sobs. Her voice was filled with pain and sorrow.
"I didn't leave you," I told her quietly, and the truth is I didn't leave her, I called her every day since I went to college, but she never answered my phone calls, I thought she was okay, and then I stopped calling her so often because I thought she was studying for her essays, and that next year she was going to join me at college.
"I only went to college, I called you every day, but you—" I sighed! "You don't pick up my calls, and I thought you are studying for your essays."
Another few minutes of silence passed between us until she broke the silence again.
"No, you left me here alone! I was afraid—" Then she stopped, leaving that unfinished thought in the air.
"Afraid?" She's the strongest girl I know, even though she's like that, outside her, she's strong, she's just passing through a fragile phase.
"That you forgot me, you went to college, and I knew that you were going to find some girl..."
I had to cut her off. "How could I forget the girl I've loved since the day I met her?" No other girl gives me what she gives me. She's fun, not a difficult girl to deal with, she's extraordinary, kind, she's my dream come true, she's what I've always asked for.