Through Your Eyes

by Ali Merci

  “The beach is pretty far away, Isles,” he muttered, just wishing she’d find enough sense in her drunken state to respond to him. “You couldn’t have walked here—Holy shit, did you drive here?” His voice grew in volume as the panic took control of him. “Did you just drive drunk?!”

  “Shh! The neighbours are going to hear you!” his mother hissed.

  “Ma, can you please check if there’s a dark blue car parked outside?” he asked frantically, tightening his hold on his best friend. Or, at least, someone who used to be his best friend. He wasn’t too sure about a lot of things anymore.

  He heard footsteps approach him as his mother walked back into the house. He looked up just in time to see her shake her head.

  “No.” She shot Isla a quick glance, but kept her face unreadable. “No car. Someone must have dropped her off.”

  “I had a ride,” Isla mumbled, her words beginning to slur as she tried to stand still. “Hunter dropped me off.”

  Asa’s jaw clenched and he wished more than ever that he was some class-A douchebag so that he could just tell Isla to get out of his house. But Asa wasn’t a class-A douchebag and despite his growing rage and annoyance, he couldn’t abandon her. Not when she was in such a vulnerable state.

  “I can’t believe this.” His mother scoffed, throwing her hands into the air. “All this girl ever does is hit you below the belt every time!”

  “What do you want me to do, ma?” he snapped, losing his patience and taking his frustration out on her instead. “Leave her like this?”

  “Of course not!” she exclaimed, looking so angry that Asa had to swallow and blink twice. “I just don’t know why you keep hanging around someone who brings you down so much!”

  “She doesn’t bring me—”

  “Yes, she does! Your loyalty and affection are blinding you, but I’m your mother, Asa. You used to come to me during middle school and freshman year whenever she hurt you, remember? You used to talk to me. I don’t think there’s anyone who’s picked on your weaknesses and insecurities the way this girl has! And whenever I tried telling you that, you would get mad at me until you no longer came to me with your problems. And now I never know what’s going on with you at school!”

  “Is that what this is about?” he asked, still sounding angry. Angry that whatever his mother said was true. Angrier that he could never admit it to himself. “That you didn’t find out how bad things were at school until today in the principal’s office?”

  His mother took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she tried to get a grip of her anger. “This,” she said, opening her eyes slowly, “is about how you always let yourself see good in someone who also has a lot of bad. And normally that’s a very admirable quality, mijo, but not if it’s making you think that you deserve what they put you through.”

  He turned away from his mother and looked at the girl who’d now fallen asleep in his arms. It was hard to think about how malicious Isla could be when she looked so peaceful and harmless right then.

  “She has nobody else, ma,” he said quietly.

  “Then she should be more grateful towards the fact that you’re still putting up with her,” his mother murmured, patting him on the cheek gently. “Put her in the guest room. I’ll let her parents know. It’s too late, she might as well remain here.”

  “Thank you.” He met her eyes with a sad smile.

  “She’s still someone’s child.” His mother shrugged. “I can’t turn a blind eye when she obviously needs some help.”

  “Thanks,” he repeated, before reaching down to hook his other arm behind Isla’s knees and then carrying her towards the guest room.

  When he looked down at her sleeping figure, the quilt pulled up till her chin, Asa couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy and nostalgia for the girl he once used to know.

  A girl that was slowly slipping from existence and becoming something else instead.

  But she was still his best-friend, wasn’t she? This was still the same Isla he knew.

  It had to be.

  Maybe his mother was wrong. Ma had to be wrong. There was a good chance Isla would eventually grow out of whatever phase she was going through right now. Whatever it was that was making her withdraw from everyone and become even colder and detached than usual.

  So Asa just sighed softly and walked out of the room with a content smile on his face, knowing that come tomorrow morning, everything would be much better and they’d be able to wipe the slate clean.

  Maybe, just maybe, he’d have his best friend back.

  •••

  Isla winced, clutching her head, as Asa placed a mug of coffee right in front of her, steam rising up from it and mingling with the cold air.

  “My head hurts,” she groaned, mouth twisted into a grimace.

  “That’s terrible,” Asa said, not bothering to hide the grin which only earned him a glare.

  “Still a dick, I see,” she retorted.

  “Still a moody bitch, I see,” he shot back.

  “Asa!” his mother’s booming voice sounded all the way from the living room to the kitchen they were seated in. Asa made a mental note to lower his voice.

  “Still got the anti-cussing policy, huh?” Isla asked, lips twitching at the corners.

  Asa shrugged lazily, leaning back on his seat. “That’s the San Román household for you.”

  “Sometimes I think your mother doesn’t like me much,” she suddenly said, her voice quiet but also free from judgment.

  He sighed deeply, running his hand down his face as a yawn escaped his mouth. “She doesn’t hate you,” he said carefully.

  “But she dislikes me.”

  Asa pursed his lips, his head spinning as he thought about how to tackle this in the least offensive manner. “It’s complicated…” he replied and trailed off, knowing he was walking on eggshells; he hated it. Lately, with Isla, taking caution was becoming necessary because he no longer knew what was going to set her off next.

  It didn’t use to be like that.

  “How so?” She pushed, obviously not wanting to let the topic go.

  “Well,” he paused, running his tongue over his mouth. “She doesn’t dislike you because of the reasons students at school dislike you. Ma doesn’t look down on you, if you know what I mean.”

  Isla nodded and then looked away, taking a few sips of the hot drink before placing the mug back on the table and meeting Asa’s eyes once again.

  “She just doesn’t trust me,” Isla said slowly, stating an observation rather than fishing for answers.

  “I—”

  “With you.”

  “What?” Asa frowned, pulling his brows together.

  “That’s it, right? She doesn’t trust me with you. She thinks I’ll end up being more of a burden than a friend.”

  “Or maybe she’s just speaking from the experience of the countless times you’ve let me down, Isles.” He sighed. “So, yeah, of course she’s going to be protective.”

  “It never bothered you before,” she muttered. “You always come running back.”

  Anger flared in Asa’s gut, making him sit up straight and glare at Isla with incredulity all over his face. “Always come running back?” he repeated, beyond pissed.

  Isla flushed and looked away. “Okay, fine—”

  “I am not your lapdog.” He seethed, still finding it hard to wrap his head around the fact that she believed—she actually goddamn believed—he’d just let her walk over him repeatedly.

  “Geez, okay!” she snapped, before letting out a groan and massaging her temples again. “God, can we just stop arguing? I’m too hungover for this shit.”

  “You always have an excuse when it comes to acknowledging your faults, Isles,” Asa muttered, feeling tired now. Tired that he was stuck in this loop with her. Tired that they kept going around in circles, repeating the same mistakes, inflicting the same pain. It just went on and on and on.

  And God, Asa was tired.

  “And what woul
d you rather have me do?” She smiled, but it was cold. And the shivers it sent through Asa’s bones were anything but pleasant. “Should I mope about my flaws like you, Asa? You want me to waste away my days wondering how I’m never good enough? How I don’t deserve anything good? Would you prefer if I had the self-esteem of a peanut like you?”

  And Asa laughed then. It was a sad laugh nor a short laugh.

  A broken laugh.

  Because, goddammit, mothers knew best and his had been right last night.

  “That’s…” Isla cleared her throat, regret flashing in her eyes. “Listen, that’s not—”

  “Actually, Isla, I’m done listening,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I’m just done. Done with the constant wondering why you keep falling off the wagon and waiting for you to get your shit together so that we can be okay again. Done with always asking myself when you’d stop taking out all your frustrations on me. Done with believing there must be something wrong with me because even though I’m the only person who’s stood by your side and never left all this time, you seem to have no qualms about breaking me over and over again. There’s nothing wrong with me. There can’t be. Not when it’s you who claims to love me but goes ahead and hurts me more than anybody else ever has. That’s not love. And I’m tired of you justifying yourself by using our friendship as an excuse.”

  Isla’s hands were shaking where it sat on the table top, close to the steaming mug, and he wondered, for a second, if she was going to throw it at him.

  Instead, he watched as she pushed her chair back and rose out of her seat unsteadily, pressing her lips together.

  “Thank you for the aspirin,” she told him in a quiet voice. “And the breakfast.” She tucked a strand of her light hair behind her ear. “And the coffee too.”

  Asa scoffed and shook his head. “You’re still not going to give me an apology, are you? Not even for the shit you just said a minute ago?” He threw his hands into the air, so many emotions washing over him at once that it was hard to focus on one particular feeling. Rage. Sadness. Nostalgia. Longing. The need to feel Carmen’s reassuring hands hold his face. “Is it honestly that hard for you to just say you’re sorry?” He searched her face for any signs of remorse, any indication that she wanted to apologise.

  He didn’t find any such signs, though. And it made him wonder if it was just Isla growing more remorseless or himself losing the ability to read her like an open book.

  Both cases frightened him, but this was no longer his problem. Her burdens were no longer his to carry. And when he watched her turn around and walk away without a response, he felt a weight slowly slide from his shoulders, and he could stand that much taller now.

  When he watched her open the door and slam it shut behind her, something in his chest broke away. It was as if there had been a rock lodged between his lungs, or somewhere right in the middle of his ribcage, and watching her leave was what finally loosened it. As if his heart was literally liberated by a burden that weighed far too much.

  Maybe this was the hardest step in that road to self-love. Because even though he’d chosen himself, he’d also lost something big. Something that had been a part of him for so long.

  Maybe learning to love yourself was never about the situations where you won repeatedly and wore a triumphant smile on your face as if you could conquer the world if you put your mind to it.

  Maybe sometimes you had to lose a piece of your heart so that you could work on making it whole again.

  Sometimes, no matter how much it hurt, no matter if it felt like you were using a chainsaw to cut off one of your own limbs, you just needed to let go of the things that no longer brought you peace or joy.

  And as much as it pained Asa to admit it, his deteriorating friendship with Isla Martin was one of those things.

  39.

  Hook, Line, and Sinker

  When Asa walked into school the following week, one hand loosely wrapped around the left strap of his backpack and the other hand running through his dark hair absentmindedly, he felt a hand grab the back of his shirt all of a sudden and slam him into a wall.

  His bag softened the blow of his back hitting the hard concrete, and his jaw fell open, bracing himself for a punch, or a kick—something—however the second his eyes registered the familiar but angry face of Wyatt, his shoulders slumped against the wall, and a breath of relief escaped his mouth.

  “You goddamn moron,” Asa muttered, knocking Wyatt’s hand off of him. “The heck was that for? You scared me!”

  “Now you know what that feels like then,” Wyatt snapped. “Do you know how many times I called you or texted you throughout the freaking weekend? The last time I saw you was in front of Hendrickson’s office, and then you weren’t in school for rest of Friday! I thought they’d suspended you, or worse.”

  “Well, depends on your definition of worse, really.” He shrugged, feeling a little bitter again. “Because if worse means I’m no longer allowed to be a participant in this year’s meet, then yeah, worse did happen.”

  First, Wyatt’s brows pulled together slowly as if he couldn’t begin to understand what Asa was telling him, but then the realisation eventually dawned on his face, and his green eyes widened in disbelief.

  Wyatt let out a sound that was between an incredulous laugh and a scoff. “You’re kidding.” He shook his head and stepped back slightly. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Asa ran his fingers through his hair, looking away into the distance as he watched students enter the building in groups. “Wish I was.”

  “No no no.” Wyatt shook his head, obviously not willing to accept the startling news. “No, they can’t do that! They can’t.”

  Asa shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even though he knew his friend could see right through that façade. “It’s all right,” he lied. “I mean, our school still has a chance of winning—”

  “I don’t give a shit about the school,” Wyatt muttered, looking away. “This meant a lot to you, didn’t it?”

  Asa didn’t respond for a while and just stared at the side of his friend’s face and it hit him then how oblivious and blind he could be sometimes. Because here was someone standing right in front of him who’d stood by his side for as long as he could remember, but someone he’d never appreciated enough, if at all.

  Picking up on the lack of response, Wyatt turned back around to face Asa, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Asa?”

  “Do you remember how we became friends?” Asa asked, but he didn’t know who he was really speaking to, Wyatt or himself.

  “Um—”

  “Freshman year,” he went on, watching the memory play out in his head as if it was just a moment from yesterday and not a little more than three years back. “I had entered the swimming building for the swim team try-outs.”

  “Yes, I rem—”

  “And this particular group of other freshmen—there must have been three of them—told me that I had no business trying out for someplace where I didn’t belong and that the openings on the team belonged to them already so I shouldn’t waste my time hoping to get it.”

  “Okay—”

  “And the others within earshot just looked away awkwardly because they figured it wasn’t their problem and they pretended to not have heard anything… but you didn’t stay quiet.” Asa’s vision zoned out of replaying the scene in his head and focused back on his current surroundings, his eyes meeting Wyatt’s confused and surprised ones. “You told them to shut up if they had nothing nice to say and that if they so much as looked at me in the wrong manner, you would place them in a chokehold underwater.”

  Wyatt grinned then. “I remember that. Their expressions were hilarious.”

  Asa didn’t register his words as he continued to speak, the words flowing out of his mouth naturally. “When I went home that day, I was so upset, and all I did was keep thinking about what they said. Ma was worried that I’d never make any friends and that maybe we’d have to move somewhere else.”
r />   “I’m not getting what you’re trying to say.” Wyatt frowned.

  “I’m saying that I went home with their hate at the back of my mind. I’m saying I stayed up the whole night ranting to my mother about how I wished none of them would be selected for the team. I’m saying I spent so much time letting the anger in that I forgot to tell her about this one boy who’d stood up for me. And…” Asa’s fingers curled around his bag’s straps, his nails digging mercilessly into the leather. “And that’s what I’ve been doing all this time too. Focusing on all the people who’ve stuck knives in my back rather than the ones who’ve had my back.”

  Wyatt opened his mouth, blinking in bewilderment, but he seemed to be at a complete loss for words. Asa didn’t mind, though. Today, he’d rather do all the speaking. God knew he owed the guy standing in front of him that much, at least.

  “So I want to say I’m sorry,” Asa murmured, looking away from his friend and past his shoulders instead. “And thank you. Thank you for that first time in freshman year, and thank you for all the times you’ve been there.”

  Wyatt was still not speaking. He seemed to truly be clueless as to what he should do or say which only resulted in the situation slowly beginning to grow awkward, and with that, Asa’s urge to face-palm increased, too.

  “Dude,” Asa deadpanned finally, throwing his hands into the air. “I get that you’re not like me—that you’re not that heart-to-heart kinda guy—but a little courtesy would be nice anytime soon.”

  Wyatt snorted and looked towards his right, but the small smile on his lips didn’t escape Asa’s attention. “Next thing I know, you’ll be asking for a hug,” he muttered, a teasing edge to his voice.

  “I wouldn’t mind one actually,” Asa said in a serious tone, but his eyes were alight with mischief.

  Wyatt grinned. “I haven’t seen you this carefree recently; good to know you’re back.”