Against the Tide (7 page)

“You were telling me about the guy that’s got you all flustered,” she reminds me, not missing a beat.

“Yes. The guy I had sex with … In the alley behind The Cabin …” I screw my eyes tightly shut, waiting for her reaction. That sentence made me sound, and feel like a right slut.

“Megan, you fucked a stranger in an alley?” Jamie shrieks, and her eyes almost pop out.

“No,” I say, looking down to my lap before whispering, “he fucked me.”

“Jesus, woman, you really need to stop shoving that shit up your nose, and start thinking before you act,” she says none too kindly.

I push back on the worktop and sigh. “I didn’t come here for a bloody lecture, Jamie.”

“What did you come here for? For me to tell you that I think you did good? Well, let me tell you now, the only thing that I can see was good about last night was the fact that Damien has gone. Where’s he gone anyway? And why? Did he find out about you and alley guy? Who, by the way, I want to know more about in just a minute.”

“No, he doesn’t know about him, jeez, I wish I knew his name,” I mutter. “Damien is probably sitting on a beach somewhere exotic, being brought cocktails by a topless waitress right about now.”

“You’re not making a lot of sense, Meg.”

“That’s because you’re not letting me finish,” I snap, and she rolls her eyes at me. “When I got back from … the alley, Damien dragged me out of the club and straight into a taxi. He wouldn’t talk on the way home and when we got in through the door he told me to pack.” I close my eyes, not wanting to go here, but I knew I had to some time. “He was selling, you know, as usual,”

“Yeah, illegal drugs. Go on,” she encourages, inclining her head to push me to continue. Talk about making me feel like shit.

“He gave some girl a dodgy E,” I say quietly, suddenly realising the enormity of the situation. God, I really hope beyond hope that girl’s okay.

“And …”

“And, she got taken to hospital. I don’t know any more than that.” I hang my head and pick at the skin around my nails.

“Don’t you think you should find out?”

“She’s not my responsibility,” I snap. “She probably just had to have her stomach pumped or something.”

“Megan, your dickhead of a boyfriend sold dodgy illegal drugs to a girl who was taken to hospital.  Don’t you think it’s time for you to take your head out of your arse, and open your eyes to the real world?”

I know that every word that comes out of her mouth is right. I know I’ve been overlooking Damien’s growing dealings. I’ve tried to keep my head in my own little bubble, only coming out when I feel that I don’t have to deal with anything too serious. But I don’t like that she’s calling me on my shit. I don’t like her waving it around in my face like that. I slam my coffee down and stand up abruptly.

“You gonna walk away from the truth, Megan?” she says gently as I start to walk past her.

“I don’t need to hear this.”

“I think you do.”

“Well, then you’re a shit friend.”

“I’m your best friend. I would be a shit friend if I lied to you and watched you go down the slippery slope of denial.”

“I’m not in denial,” I snap, stopping in the doorway and spinning around to face her.

“No?” she laughs bitterly. “So you’re happy? One hundred percent happy? With a boyfriend whose drug habit means he has to deal to keep it up, that sees you as no more than a possession, who has poisoned some poor innocent girl and cares so much about you, and her, that at the first sign of trouble he left the country?” She stands in front of me with her hands on her hips. “You’re that happy with your fucking perfect life that you fucked, sorry,” she holds a finger up and corrects, “you were fucked by a stranger in an alley? That sounds really happy to me, Megan.” She pushes past me bumping my shoulder.

“Jamie,” I plead, turning to her.

“No, Meg. I’ve kept my mouth shut for a long time about a lot of stuff. I’ve watched you get dragged down by Damien and you can’t even see it. You’re my friend and that’s why I’m telling you this. Look at you … You’re too skinny, you have massive sunken rings around your eyes the colour of coal and after everything, you’re still trying to redeem Damien in my eyes. You won’t ever redeem him, the guy is an arsehole. You need to wake up and start living in the real world. The real, legal world.”

“What if I don’t want to?” I counter with an edge of desperation to my voice. I don’t even know why I’m trying to hold on to what my life has become. It’s what I know. It’s what I’ve grown to know as normal. Do I like it? Fuck, no. But I’m scared of the alternative. I’m scared of what I don’t know.

“Then I guess you’re on your own,” Jamie replies sadly with a small shrug of her shoulders before walking off down the hallway.

Shit.

“Jamie,” I call out behind her. She waves a dismissive hand but continues to walk. “I don’t want to be on my own,” I cry desperately knowing that my reactions are that of confusion, tiredness and a hangover, but I feel so lost I need her to tell me everything is going to be okay.

She stops halfway down the hall and sighs before turning and coming back to me. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and hugs me tight.

“I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing for me to say. You’ll never be on your own, I’ll always be here, Meg. But you need to open your eyes.” I nod in to her shoulder and when I start to sniffle she moves away. “Do not snot on my top. I only bought it last week,” she orders which makes us dissolve in fits of laughter. “I think we need more coffee.”

Twenty four hours has passed. The sun has risen and set behind the sea again. The world keeps turning and everyone else on Earth is going about their day as they usually would.

Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

Not me.

My world has stopped. An empty void of time. A continuous plateau of nothingness.

Occasionally Mum’s soft sobs break me from my trance like state. I move my hand to hers and stroke the back of her knuckles to let her know that she’s not alone. I’m unsure if she’s asleep or in a painful state of consciousness like me. After explaining to Annie what had happened, we thought it would be best for Mum to be in bed. Her grief was all consuming and she struggled to comprehend it, let alone handle it. I haven’t left her side since. She’s curled in to a ball in the hospital bed in the corner of the lounge, and I’m by her side. When her breathing evens out, I know she’s finally asleep. Albeit a restless sleep. Her mind is still whirring with panic and pain but her body needs to rest. The body that is failing her as I sit here and watch her chest rise and fall shakily.

How long does she have left?

How long do I have with her?

Then it occurs to me. She’s all I have left. Everything I have lived and breathed for my whole life will be gone in a very short period of time. Everything that kept me going through dark thoughts and sadness, and the two people that pulled me through some of the worst times in my life won’t be here anymore. So what’s it all for? What’s the point?

Annie pushes the door open quietly and steps just inside. “How is she?” she whispers.

I shrug because there’s no real answer for that. “She’s asleep at the moment.”

“That will be the meds. She will probably sleep for a few hours now at least.”

I nod an acknowledgement to her. I don’t have the strength for a conversation.

“Finn,” she starts, and when I look up at her she’s fidgeting with her hands. “I don’t really know what to say … I’m so sorry.” Her lip quivers before she sucks in a sob. “I know that doesn’t help. But I want you to know that I’ll do whatever I can to help. You know, with your mum, the funeral, anything.”

I frown. “Funeral,” I mutter. “There’ll be a funeral.” She nods and wipes a tear from her cheek. “I have to go,” I say urgently, standing from my mum’s bedside.

“Finn?” Annie questions my abrupt announcement.

“I have to go.” The room feels small and I can’t take in enough air. I push past her. “Sorry, I gotta get out of here,” I mumble, suddenly feeling like I’m filled with a breathless panic that races up and down my rib cage. I plough out of the front door, and down the street. The sea front stretches for miles but it’s dark, so it’s nothing but an infinite road with no end and no destination. My feet pound the pavement as my legs work as fast as my heart’s beating. I run. The exertion burning my chest and legs. But I need that feeling. The welcome sting of pain. The pain that grips my muscles and holds on tight, forcing me to focus on nothing else but to keep going. To run faster. To empty my head. At this time on a Monday morning there’s no one around. Even the fox that’s rummaging in the bin at the end of a street looks up in shock to see someone at this time of day. The wind is quiet and consequently the tide is slow too. A gentle whoosh in the background just to remind me of where I am. But I don’t want reminding. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want any of this. I stop abruptly and hold on to the railings on the promenade overlooking the high tide.

“Why?” I yell breathlessly out over the water and it echoes before being carried off on the breeze. “Am I being punished?” My voice gets lost to the world. No one to hear. No one to care. “This is my fault. I should have been with Lizzie and not
her.
” My voice softens as I lose the strength to even shout. “This wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t such a selfish bastard. I’m being punished for every bad thing I’ve ever done.” I conclude my thoughts to no one but the stars and the waves.

It only took me a short while to get there, and while I haven’t found a solution at the bottom of this vodka bottle, it certainly blurs the edges of the pain. It masks the hurt of reality. I’m not in denial. No, I know Lizzie is dead and gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. I saw her lying grey and helpless in that hospital bed. I held her cold lifeless hand. I don’t want it all to be real, but it is. The best I can do now is drown myself in this vodka oblivion and hope it doesn’t hurt as much when I sober up.

I hear the door click and open next to me and I turn my head up slowly from my position on the cold hard ground next to the front step. I don’t remember getting here or sitting down, but I do know I’ve been here a while.

“I’ve been calling you for hours,” Harley says quietly.

“Yeah, well. I’ve been …” I slur, my words trailing off as I try and remember exactly where I’ve been.

“Look, Finn. It’s six thirty in the morning and I’ve got to go to work. Why don’t I help you inside, eh?” he coaxes, trying to take the bottle from my hand. I grip it tighter, there’s not much left in the bottom but it’s enough to keep me numbed for a little while longer.

“Don’t want to. Happy here, man,” I slur, yanking the bottle out of his grasp.

“Okay,” he sighs. “You can keep the bottle. Just let me get you inside, you’ll get piles or some shit like that sitting on the cold concrete.”

When I don’t protest, he bends down and puts my arm around his shoulder, helping me up and in through the front door. The movement makes my head spin and I try to focus. It’s impossible. Nausea hits me full force and before I can warn Harley what’s coming, the litre of vodka I’ve consumed is hitting the wall in the hallway. The sickness seems to go on forever and the next thing I know, Harley lowers me in to the shower cubicle and turns the water on cold. It makes me gasp. It stings my skin. It’s a welcome assault, pain and distraction, taking me out of my head for just a short while. Harley doesn’t say a word. Just helps me up, strips off my heavy, wet clothes and dries me with a warm towel before putting me in my bed. “I’m sorry,” I whisper over and over. I don’t really know who I’m specifically apologising to, everyone and no one at the same time. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Harley grips my shoulder and squeezes gently. “I know, Finn. I know,” he says in a quiet soothing voice.