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Part IV: Chapter 4 - And When I Find Myself

"So, uh, welcome back," Kim says, a little resentfully, leaning against my door frame as I'm finally getting around to unpacking my bags. I'm flooded with the memory of her in that position, a year ago, with nearly the same resentfully jealous tone, except that then everything was promise and possibility and I didn't care that she resented me. Now, with everything lost and broken, her resentment makes me want to punch her. Because she resents me for having something she thinks she wants. Well, now I fucking resent her for being there and being fine and being able to be jealous of a friend who got a job with her favourite band. Because that's what this all used to be and now it's fucked. And now I have nothing. And part of me - a large part of me - wishes I had never seen Tegan.

"Thanks," I say, pulling from my bag the shirt I was wearing that first morning in Vancouver. Tegan's hand had slid up under that shirt. I shiver at the recollection, as immediately my vision starts to blur, my throat swelling. I take a breath, swallow. Kim sits on the bed and flips open her laptop as I continue unpacking.

"So, um. . . what happened? Why are you back?" she asks, and for a moment, the idea of answering her honestly flits through my brain. I wouldn't be able to do it, though, without going through months and months of back story and my heart can't take it.

"Well. . ." I start, stalling as I search for something concise I can say that will not invite any follow-up questions. Something that will not bring me to tears about something I can't explain to her.

"Does it have anything to do with this?" Kim asks, clicking something on her keyboard and turning the computer around on the bed so that I can see it. She has pressed play on a YouTube video and after a moment of buffering, it starts. It's Sara, on stage, and she's in the middle of a sentence and the shrieks are insane. It's a few seconds before I can work out what she's saying.

"Every lesbian is a muff diver," I hear her say at first, followed by a protest from Tegan, off-camera.

"Sara," she says, and the tension in her voice makes me wonder what came before this.

"Does Tegan lick you?!" someone shouts from the crowd, and Sara, at the mic, scans over the crowd with a look I can't describe.

"You know, everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, but I have to say, Tegan's tongue is fucking incredible-" Sara says, and I clap my hand over my mouth. God, what is she doing? The camera pans over to Tegan, who is asking her to stop, her eyes welling up, her face red.

"Sara, please stop-"

"I mean, I haven't been with that many people, but Tegan is by far the best-" I really can't believe I'm hearing this. This is Sara in full self-destruction mode. My stomach clenches, the wind knocked out of me. This is what it's come to, Sara pushing, provoking, Tegan in tears, and it's all because of me and my stupid fucking video. I close my eyes, wishing Kim were not here so I could just lie down and cry.

"Craig, can you turn off Sara's mic? Please?" Tegan's voice is trembling now.

"Craig, turn off my mic and you're fired. I'm having a conversation with these people here. We're communicating."

"Craig, I mean it,"

"Now Tegan's crying. She's pretty fucking emo and sometimes, it's like, come on. Fucking pull your shit together. But it has its good points. I mean, she's reasonably likely to cry after sex-"

"Oh my God," escapes from my mouth as, on screen, Tegan sets her guitar down.

"But it's okay. She's sweet. And she's a fantastic kisser."

"What is she doing? Is she just fucking around or. . ." Kim asks, but I can't pay attention to her while this train wreck is unfolding in front of me, because of me - at least in part - and my heart aches for Tegan, in tears, and for Sara, who is so without hope that she has no reason not to throw gasoline on the fire. The pain of seeing them like that swirls and mixes in with my own guilt, and it nearly chokes me.

On screen, Tegan is walking off the stage. Sara sways a little at the mic, obviously drunk.

"Okay, that's it, then! Finally, my solo career!" Unbelievably, painfully, Sara starts singing something I've never heard, but now she's crying so hard she can't really sing at all. Her face, bathed in anguish, stabs my heart again and again.

"Fucking dyke cunt!" someone in the crowd shouts.

"Yeah! Fuck you! You were here to see a freak show and you fucking got one! You should be fucking ashamed of yourselves!" Sara is shouting now, unhinged, tears running down her face.

"You should be ashamed!" shouts someone from the crowd and Sara's face, twisted, pained, in sharp focus. . .

"Oh, don't worry, I am!"

"Holy fuck," I breathe as Kim nods. She's obviously seen it before. I take a breath because I can't cry right now but fuck, do I want to. My brother, in my bedroom doorway, has obviously been watching too.

"Are they fucking each other? I always thought they were," he quips cheekily, sucking on a popsicle and smirking.

"Of course not," I say tensely, perhaps too quickly. "She's upset about the video. . ." I realize I don't know if they've seen it, but my brother answers the question for me.

"Barn sex! Best thing I've ever seen on YouTube," he laughs.

"Well I hope you're both smart enough to realize that it is not them in the video. It's Tegan and her ex-girlfriend," I say, my tone more intense than I wanted. They both look dubious. "And Sara is obviously having some kind of mental breakdown. . ."

"It really looks like Sara in the barn video," Kim says.

"Well, I'm the one who recorded it, so I would know," I snap, angrily returning to my un-packing. I've had enough of them, of everyone.

"You made the video?" Brad asks, his mouth too ready to laugh.

"Is that why you're back all of a sudden?" Kim asks, excited to have gossip, obviously.

"It was an accident but. . ." I can't finish. I'm not going to break down in front of them right now, I'm just fucking not. I'm not going to let them see into the fucking void that is my heart right now, because they might pity me or even sympathize, or they'll ridicule me, it doesn't matter. All of those are they same because they won't understand, they can't, because they still have their insides. Maybe they still even have a reason to keep breathing.

"Holy shit," Kim breathes and I want to murder her.

"It shouldn't have happened. Some fucking heartless bitch in London lifted the video from my camera and uploaded it. Tegan and Sara. . . I'm sure you can imagine. . . they just. . . look, it was an accident, it's not what it looks like, and none of this should be happening. Look at that video! Have some fucking compassion, Jesus!" I finish too bitterly. They are quiet for a minute, looking at me. "I'm sorry but. . . it's just been. . . a pretty miserable time for them, and for me, and. . . I just don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay, dude," Kim says with a shrug, after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "Don't worry about it." I feel dangerously close to tears.

"Are you joining the tour again? Or are they too pissed at you?" Brad asks, sucking a bit of melted popsicle off of his finger, oblivious. Kim is generally a bull in a china shop too but she gives him a quick, surprised look.

"I really don't want to talk about it," I say, and my whole body feels like lead.

"Are you crying?" Brad asks, incredulous. I'm not, but I'm close.

"Brad, can you go drip popsicle. . . stuff. . . somewhere else and give me a break?" I snap at him, and he shrugs and leaves, indifferent. I sigh, throwing a handful of t-shirts into my closet haphazardly. "I need to sleep. This jet-lag is kicking my ass," I say, changing the subject before Kim has a chance to ask something else that I can't answer.

"Yeah, I have to pick my sister up at fucking yoga," she says, standing up, tucking her computer under her arm. "Are you going to the show on Friday?" I shrug. Will she just go away?

"Um, maybe, yeah. I'll text you," I say and she says goodbye and I'm alone, finally. I lay back on my bed and allow the sobs to come, now remembering the shout from the crowd, on that video, you should be ashamed! And Sara's anguished reply, Oh, don't worry! I am!

Accident or not, I've done this. No wonder Tegan never wants to see me again. I can't blame her.