Chapter 39: A Spoonful of Sugar
Note: The second part ended up a long one too. Sorry for the wait!
I watched as Rick poured me a drink. The whiskey caught the warm bar lights and glowed an enticing near-gold.
"Do you think another drink is the best idea?" Ann wondered and looked to Karen and Rick for support, but they were too busy not looking at each other to notice.
Her blue eyes returned to me. "You have work tomorrow…"
Karen dismissed her warning with a sharp laugh.
"We all have work tomorrow. And we're celebrating!"
"And unwinding," Rick sulked.
"And I know my limits," I defended. It may have been a while, but there had been a few scattered nights in the wasted years when I indulged more than this. Granted, I didn't remember them very well.
Ann gave me an odd look.
"I won't not—" I stopped to untangle my tongue. "I won't do any shots."
"That's good, but—"
"Goddess, Ann!" Karen interrupted and threw her arms around her friend. "Just relax and feel the music with me!"
I continued to try and tune out the song Trent and Claire had chosen, but Karen made it difficult as she sang along. Her drunken singing was the complete opposite of her usual voice: she mumbled through unknown lyrics until rasping the often-incorrect last word, and her voice cracked during awkward attempts to harmonize.
"The food didn't sober you up as much as I wanted…" Ann sheepishly laughed as Karen shook her by the shoulders during a high note, and a twinge of guilt passed through me.
"Then we'll have to dance it out of my system!" Karen hollered and pulled Ann from her seat. "C'mon, we can't leave Claire and the doctor alone out there; they're barely moving!"
I stopped my head from turning by reaching for my refilled glass.
Ann offered her hand. "Do you want to dance too?"
"Go ahead without me."
I didn't want to be near the couple already dancing. It was hard enough not to watch them from the table.
"Your loss!" Karen lilted at me as she clasped Ann's hand, but her eyes darted to Rick before she led her away.
Rick released out a sharp tsk, and I realized Karen hadn't invited him. Feeling incredibly awkward, I brought the whiskey to my lips and took a sip. Instead of hitting my throat with a burn, it slipped smoothly down my throat. I thought I tasted a faint trace of smoke…
Rick raised his glass in front of his face and gazed into it.
"Hey, can I ask you something?"
It took a beat too long for me to realize he was talking to me and not his whiskey.
"Sure...?"
He opened his mouth as if to speak but took a long, slow drink instead. I watched the whiskey steadily disappear. Just as I wondered if he changed his mind, he brought his glass down hard and spoke.
"Why would you ever want to be me?"
I slowly took in his words as he poured himself another drink. I'd nearly forgotten admitting to wanting to trade lives with him during the drinking game. I dropped my eyes to my glass. Rick had done everything I should have, but how could I tell him that?
I took a drink and let my words wobble out on alcohol-tinted air.
"I just—I want it, what you have."
Rick nearly dropped the whiskey bottle down on the table and stared at me over the rims of his glasses.
"What do you think I have?"
"Well, everything," I admitted, and he immediately let out a dissatisfied laugh. I felt my face heat as I tried to be more specific. "Your home, your family, your—"
He merely shook his head and scoffed.
"I mean, not everybody has that," I said, my voice hardening.
"I barely have my family."
And suddenly, Rick, who'd been mostly silent since his third shot, couldn't stop talking.
"We hear from Rod less and less these days," he began, his jaw tightening when he used his father's name. "Popuri's growing up and growing distant, and Ma's health gets worse the colder it gets. Sometimes it makes me wish I could stop time for a moment. At least I could keep things together the way they are now. That's better than worrying I'm gonna lose one of them every summer and winter."
He wet his throat with whiskey while his words echoed in my head. I'd never had that fear about Ma or Terra. They had always seemed so…permanent. Hopelessly permanent. Everything had then. And yet, I could feel the fear sitting next to Rick.
I'd never let go if I had them back with me.
I joined Rick and sipped at my drink. It was dangerous to start thinking those things.
"I thought when he came last year," he continued, nodding across the dining room, but I refused to follow his gesture, "…everything was going to get better. He'd cure Ma, Rod would've had to crawl back home, and Popuri and I would've stopped fighting so much. Instead, he practically recommended Ma be homebound."
His last word was almost a groan. Rick slid his hands up under his glasses to roughly rub at his eyes. His knuckles knocked his glasses loose until they fell from his nose and clattered onto the table.
"Shit," he grumbled but didn't move his hands.
Unsure of what to do but wanting to do something to help, I carefully folded his glasses closed, set them out of harm's way, and tried to follow what he said.
"I knew he was right, but I…boiled over, as usual. It's frustrating. Frustrating for all of us—Ma most of all, though she tries not to show it. I don't like her going to festivals, but she won't give them up yet. She won't let Doctor do house calls often. And she even insists on walking to appointments! I know she's scared if she gets in a wheelchair, she's going to stay in one like old Ellen. It's so frustrating," he repeated, "…not being able to do much of anything to protect her. But I can protect Popuri."
Rick finally dropped his hands. I was half-afraid I'd see tears, and then I'd be entirely at a loss for what to do, but his eyes blazed with resolve instead.
"Popuri needs me to look after her. And as long as she depends on me, she can't leave too, right?"
My mouth parted with disbelief as he took another drink.
"Couldn't she just…depend on someone else instead?"
Rick nearly choked, and I realized I struck a nerve.
"Who would try and depend on someone as unreliable as that guy?" he spat, scowling toward his sister. She nestled her cheek against the phone, oblivious to his pointed stare. By the way she smiled, it was obvious who was on the other end of the line. "If she's naive enough to think she could, then it only proves she needs me."
"Kai isn't—" I began, but Rick visibly tensed at the name. I let out a sigh. It seemed pointless to attempt to defend Kai while Rick was already riled up, and I didn't have the energy or the desire to fight. I was half-tempted to get up from the table, but where would I go? Instead, I tried another approach.
"If you don't let Popuri have some freedom, it'll just make her want to leave more."
I remembered the times when I had tried to cool my anger through long walks through snow. I always seemed to go a little farther, despite thinking I would never go far. Each time, I didn't want to turn back. Walking home always felt faster.
"You sound like Karen. You guys just don't understand—you don't have the responsibilities I do," he dismissed, unaware of the sting he set in me as he continued. "I'm trying to do what's best for the family. And why is it that Rod can walk out with some bullshit excuse, put everything on me, and yet I'm the bad guy?"
"Sounds like he left you without a lot of freedom."
Rick gave a nod so sharp and stiff I would have missed it if I blinked.
"Do you really want Popuri to feel the same way about you that you feel about him?"
Rick's defenses flared up again. "It wouldn't be the same at all! I'm not putting anything on her—I'm taking things away from her!" He abruptly stopped himself. "Ugh, that came out wrong, but you know what I'm trying to say, don't you?"
He clutched his glass tightly to drink again, and I tried again.
"All I'm saying is if she don't have any independence here, what'd make her want to stay?"
Rick banged his glass down on the table without taking a drink.
"Her family!" he exploded as if it were exasperatingly obvious. "Family should be enough for people!"
A pang of guilt turned the sting of his words to a sear. I tried to put it out with the last of my whiskey. "You'd hope, but sometimes it's not."
"Well, why not? It's enough for me!"
"How?" I asked too quickly. I wanted to know so badly—how could he hold up under it all? Why couldn't I? But Rick didn't give me the answer I was looking for, whatever it was.
"It has to be! What would happen to them if I left too?"
The bar felt quiet despite the music. I listened as my unsteady breath and pounding heartbeat shook my voice loose.
"…Do you ever think about it? Leaving?"
I held air tight in my chest while I waited for his answer.
"Goddess, no!" Rick scoffed. "I'm not like them. Those bastards are a disgrace to the very idea of family."
His words carved at the edges of an open wound and all I could do was nod and pour another drink. I understood. Sometimes I would remember the hurt I had felt when Dad left. I had tried to ignore it and carry on the way Ma did until that stunted resentment festered into jealousy.
Jealous of him.
Even in my thoughts, the last two words sounded like a shameful whisper. What kind of son would envy the father who left and resent the mother who stayed? Everything I had ever felt was so wrong.
Rick continued to rail against some strange Rod-Kai hybrid, and I sat there and turned each insult against myself. Yes, I am a failure. Yes, I am a coward. Yes, I am a deserter. Yes, I am a good listener; thanks for noticing. The table became his sullen confessional with me as a mockery of a priest. I just kept nodding and drinking until Rick's anger passed, and he became drunkenly sentimental.
"And it's not just Ma and Popuri that keep me here, but there's Karen too. I know I'm not showing it very well tonight, but I don't think I could get through every day without her. I don't know why she sticks with me—I know she won't want to forever."
I nodded and drank on cue, and Rick flinched.
"Shit, what am I doing? I knew I shouldn't have done those shots," he groaned before downing his drink and heaving himself out of his chair. "I should be with her. It's her birthday, dammit."
Watching Rick stumble away was more difficult than it should have been. I gave up before he reached Ann and Karen and closed my eyes—I didn't want them to drift across the room. In the darkness, a small whirl of nausea tugged at me, trying to pull me into a slow spin. I was on the verge of letting it when I heard someone call my name over the music.
I opened my eyes, and the spinning faded as I slowly focused on Popuri, waving me over to the bar.
I gestured for her to come to me instead.
"Cliff!" she whined and held up the too-short phone cord.
She looked so far away, but what else was I going to do? I hoisted myself onto loose legs. Hollow music swung from ear to ear as I walked through heavy air, drink in hand, and slumped against the bar rail.
"Here!" Popuri thrust the phone against my face.
"Hello?" I mumbled into the receiver.
Kai didn't waste any time with greetings.
"Is Popuri messing with me, or is Gray really upstairs with Mary?"
Of course, you don't actually want to talk to me.
"She's isn't messing with you," I exhaled as a dulled annoyance at the couple resurfaced through all the whiskey.
"Told ya!" Popuri yelled beside me.
Kai let out a loud disbelieving laugh. "That little bastard! He never tells me anything about her!"
A woman began to scold Kai in the background, and he paused to hastily apologize to Carol before returning, his voice noticeably softer.
"Goddess, I remember when all he could do was check her out at the library. They grow up too fast." Kai let out a wistful sigh. "But enough about that—Cliff, I haven't heard from you since I left!" he laughed, and guilt flared inside of me again as I realized I had let my promise to stay in touch slip away. Why was it that guilt was so much stronger than everything else in me?
"So, what have you been doing, man?"
It was a simple enough question, but I didn't have an answer for him.
"Cliff? You still there?"
I took a breath. "Yeah."
"Sorry, we must have a bad connection! What have you been doing?"
I thought back to what I'd done since he left, all the progress I'd imagined I'd made. So much of it seemed meaningless.
What have I been doing?
"…I don't know," I confessed.
Kai hesitated before speaking. "You sound off."
"I'm just tired."
"No, it's something more than that."
Can you hear it through the phone? I fearfully hoped.
"I know—you're drunk!"
I let out a sigh of disappointed relief. "That too. Figured I'd enjoy myself after work."
"That's news! Where are you working now?"
I filled him in on my new job without enthusiasm.
"But that's great! Hey, you should save up to visit me sometime! I bet it's starting to get cold in Mineral Town!"
"A bit," I muttered into the receiver, fighting the urge to look to the couple behind me. "Where're you now?"
"Sprout Island, until it gets too cold. Ah, I bet you'd love it here—everyone does!"
Kai launched into a description of the collection of islands he'd been visiting. I closed my eyes and listened as he painted pictures of black volcanic sand, forests of wild animals, and quiet beachside villages. The warmth of the dining room became sunshine heating my skin, and my slight swaying was the queasy swell of a boat beneath my feet. In my ramshackle mind, I began to imagine a house of my own somewhere warm enough to never snow. Even in my imagination, I couldn't get too carried away. The house was small but comfortable. A little dingy, maybe, but the few things that were truly mine were. The image in my head shifted and changed as the house became a mix of cabin, farmhouse, and inn. But one thing stayed the same—it had a fireplace for someone to keep a fire burning on cold days when I couldn't get out of bed.
Ah, but isn't the point that there wouldn't be cold days anymore? I wouldn't need a fireplace.
I shrugged to myself. I'd still want one. I'd always want one.
Kai drifted to discussing the locals and travelers that made up the laid-back culture of the islands. The more he described it, the more I wondered how I would fit in there.
"I met a legitimate treasure hunter, Cliff! A treasure hunter!" Kai gushed like a little boy, and I could feel myself smiling. It sounded like the made-up stories Terra and I exchanged about Dad's adventures when we were kids. He and Ma never did tell us what he had been doing when he came home, and it took a few disappearances to understand. I stopped playing the game when he left us for good, even though Terra would sometimes try to get me to join her.
"And I've been spending a lot of time with this gourmet. Cute kid, I think you'd like him. He's been helping me come up with a few new dishes to add to my menu…"
Kai's voice faded to the background as my mind began to wonder exactly how much a ticket to Sprout Island would cost.
More than what I made today, but if I saved—
"…give Ann the recipe, as long as she promises not to share it with her old man…"
Heat tingled in my face as I snapped out of my train of thought at Ann's name.
What am I thinking? I've spent the past months struggling to stay in Mineral Town, only to think that? After I promised Ann and Doug that I'd do my best to stay?
I really haven't changed.
"I bet she'd be happy to make it for you! Put her on the phone before I forget!"
I called for her without turning around, and Popuri eyed the phone with narrowed eyes.
Ann bounded up to me, breathless and laughing.
"Geez, Karen and Rick have certainly made up," Ann joked, but I didn't turn to look.
"Kai's gonna give you a recipe," I flatly explained as I let my wrist fall back to offer the phone.
Her face fell before a new smile quickly replaced it. "For what?"
I shrugged. Ann retrieved a pen and pad of server paper from her pocket before taking the phone from me.
"I want to hear it too!" Popuri suddenly declared.
"Oh, I'm writing it—"
"Let's just share," she insisted before sandwiching the phone between their heads.
I turned to head back to the table, but the images of the dining room ran together too smoothly. Small spins blurred the edges of my focus and set the world shivering. Without thinking, I fixed my gaze ahead to steady myself and was confronted by the sight of a dance. Or rather, an embrace.
Claire and Trent gently swayed together. She leaned flush against him, her cheek resting against his chest. He was her crutch, holding her to him and slowly rubbing a hand along her back. The music I had been mainly ignoring became a lullaby in my mind as I realized they held each other with the comfort and contentment of drifting off to sleep. I wasn't sober or drunk enough to be numb to how softly, painfully intimate it was.
The slightest pressure felt like it would knock me to the ground. There was no way I was strong enough for anyone to lean on me.
As they slowly turned, bar lights played tricks with Claire's hair, bathing it in a whiskey glow. Her face was gradually illuminated, only to reveal closed eyes among her softened features.
An expectation secret even to myself crumbled apart. I hated that I had wished she would look over at me again. It wasn't right to be thinking that way about her. But I couldn't stop thinking that way.
I'd been holding out some selfish hope that Trent would be obviously wrong with her. It was so much easier to do it when I didn't see them together, but there they were, right in front of me, so undeniably together.
They seemed happy.
Maybe she's pretending?
I watched their dance, the way Trent tilted his head against hers, the way Claire wrapped her arms around his waist. It looked real. I'm sure it felt real. The question was just another reluctant hope to be quickly dashed. But what kind of friend would hope that?
But she said she once felt something for me.
Was that just a lie? Some misguided attempt to soften the blow of rejection? Or maybe something intended to keep me stuck hoping? It seemed like something too cruel for her to do, but she isn't like she seemed…
It felt true when she told me, I argued, then reminded myself how wrong my feelings always were.
I cringed as I realized I had been stupid enough to hope she might still feel something for me. Stupid enough to keep letting those hopes creep back up again and again when I don't even want them. I just wanted to know what was going on with her, but I didn't trust she'd tell me the truth if I asked.
If only I'd just— I began, but Claire's eyes opened and cut my thought off.
They caught mine briefly, and I felt terrible that it caused my pulse to rush despite everything. She dropped them to the floor just as quickly, but a few moments later, she carefully lifted her eyes back to watch me through her lashes.
Are you kidding me? I silently asked her.
But I refused to look away. I kept thinking if I just looked hard enough into her eyes, I'd find what she was honestly thinking.
Claire's shoulders rose as she took a deep breath against Trent and closed her eyes again, denying me even that.
Are you kidding me? I silently asked myself as I clumsily reached for my drink. I was surprised I had the strength to lift it.
"Hey! You both still owe me a dance!" Karen suddenly called out over the music, and the dining room collectively turned towards the steps.
Mary was trying to sneak down the stairs, Gray following behind her with unhurried steps. Mary was flushed but otherwise unchanged as she descended the steps. On the other hand, Gray was hatless, disheveled, and, I was somewhat confident, wearing a different shirt. But Gray's relaxed attitude quickly fell when he looked out over the dining room.
I took in a deep, slow breath. That was it—I could go to sleep. The night was over. But my room seemed so far away…
Well, maybe after I finish my drink.
I held the bar rail as my head fell back to take a small sip.
"What are you doing?" someone demanded, and I found Gray standing next to me. He must have marched right over. Mary peered over his shoulder.
I smiled. This time I had an answer to that question.
"Drin—sipping," I corrected, remembering Gray's earlier comment about the proper way to drink whiskey.
I watched as Gray's cold eyes shifted away from mine. One corner of his mouth tightened, and after a moment, I realized he was watching Trent and Claire coming nearer. He shifted between us and said something to me in a low voice, but I wasn't listening close enough to catch it. Instead, I turned my head to look around him.
"I didn't realize you were here too," Trent greeted Mary with a small smile and helped Claire onto her seat a few barstools down.
"Nor did I, um, well, that you were here, too. Realize, I mean," Mary stammered as she reached for the end of her braid. "Um…you won't mention to my mother that I was ever upstairs, will you?"
Trent lifted an eyebrow. "Why would—?"
"Relax, Mary!" Karen interjected, and I was surprised she and Rick had been standing so close. I was even more surprised Ann was behind them. When had she gone back to dance? When did they stop?
"We all know Gray was just showing you his book collection!" Karen leaned towards Mary and loudly whispered. "How big—?"
Ann leaped onto Karen from behind, covering her mouth with both hands.
"How are you twenty-four?!" she demanded. "You've been acting like a teenager all night!"
Karen's laughter and words were smothered.
"You can lick my hand all you want—I'm not letting go!"
The commotion put Claire into a fit of giggles I tried to ignore, and Mary blushed.
Trent cleared his throat over the commotion. "Don't worry, Mary. I can keep a secret."
I quietly scoffed and raised my glass again, but Gray snatched it from my hands before it reached my lips.
"At least let me finish it…"
Gray looked down at me as he drained the stolen whiskey into his mouth.
"There," he exhaled and set the empty glass on the bar. "It's finished."
Irritation stirred beneath the alcohol inside me, but I knew I wouldn't do anything about it. I was too much of a coward.
Coward, disgrace, failure, deserter—it was all the same.
The moment Ann released Karen, she lurched back towards Mary.
"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, but you're so beautiful!" Karen gasped and cupped her hands around Mary's cheeks. "Will you dance with me?"
"Oh, sure…?"
Karen cheered and began to lead Mary towards one of the tables.
"Help me up!" Karen ordered her as she smacked her boot onto the seat of a chair, turning it into a steppingstone to the tabletop.
Ann dashed after her friend and swung her off the chair before she could make it up. Rather than resist, Karen laughed as she went along for the ride.
The moment her feet touched the floor, she was struck with an epiphany that became apparent hours beforehand. "Goddess, Ann! Ann, I think I might be drunk!"
"Alright, she's done," Ann ruled. "Time to call it a night."
"What? No! It's my—"
"No, it's not. It ended three minutes ago," Ann interrupted, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she pointed to the clock on the wall. There was an extra bounce in her step as she hurried to shut off the jukebox mid-song.
"Wow," Karen whined, her voice as loud as it had been when the music blared. "You're really gonna send me packing!"
"Do you need help back?" Trent offered through a covered yawn.
Rick was quick to jump in and throw an arm around Karen. "No, I can do it!" he said before calling for Popuri to hang up the phone. I wondered if his jealousy finally flared up with Trent the way it didn't do with me.
"Please! I don't need anyone's help," Karen bragged. "I could walk home with my eyes closed."
She immediately threw her hands out to her side and launched into a demonstration, walking heel-to-toe in a remarkably straight line that caused Claire to break out into applause.
"I've had a lot of practice," Karen explained with a toss of her hair.
"See? She's fine," Rick nodded. "Hurry up, Popuri!"
"I am!" she yelled before stretching the phone towards Gray. "Kai wants a word."
Gray took a step, paused, and stared at me with hard eyes.
"Don't do anything dumb."
I watched him in confusion as he headed to the phone.
Popuri joined Rick and Karen, and Trent studied the three of them carefully.
"Are you sure you don't just want to stay here?" Ann offered. "Dad had me prepare a room."
Karen dismissed her suggestion with a wave of her hand. "My bed is way more comfortable."
"And Ma needs us!" Rick yelled, the force of his insistence causing him to lurch forward.
"Yeah, yeah, simmer down," Popuri yawned.
Trent's head turned to Popuri. "It's a long walk…"
"And I can handle more than you guys think."
"She can!" Claire interjected. "She's pulled through for me a lot since summer."
Popuri flashed her a warning smile. "Try to remember that next time you think about ditching me then."
I couldn't hear Claire's response because Karen grabbed hold of Mary and Ann to begin loud and heartfelt goodbyes. Popuri and Rick were soon drawn in too, but I remained with my back against the bar, watching the noisy group of friends attempt to either capture or escape one another. I didn't feel like I belonged to it, and I didn't think I ever really would.
Trent glanced at his watch and groaned.
"Oh, I didn't mean to keep you from your work," Claire apologized and slid off the barstool. "We can head back too!"
"Even with my help, I don't think you're in any condition to be walking to the farm."
"I'm totally fine, see?" she closed her eyes and tried to imitate Karen's walk. Before she had the chance to topple over, Trent caught her teetering arms.
"Careful now…" he chuckled and helped her back onto her seat. "I don't want you to fall, and the road to your house is difficult enough to navigate at night—"
I winced; I didn't want to know he made those walks.
"—it's too far."
"The clinic isn't that far."
Really? I pushed myself off the bar and grabbed my empty glass, intending to head to the table to refill it.
He let out a slow sigh. "Claire…"
"I know, off-limits. I'm sorry."
My breath hitched at the comment, and I set my glass back down.
What did that mean?
He rubbed his eyes. "It's fine. I'll figure something out. Wait here."
Trent headed into the crowd.
Claire and I sat slightly too far away for conversation to be expected, listening to the friendly goodnights and well-wishes tossed around us. Her stool squeaked as she fidgeted with her bangs. There was a lot I wanted to say, wanted to ask, but my tongue couldn't move under the weight of the silence between us, so I kept my eyes fixed on the stairs, trying to rally the energy to climb them.
"Hey, Cliff?"
Dammit.
The room twisted until I found a friendly smile on Claire's face.
"I just wanna say, I'm so happy for you, you know? And you're gonna do great with Duke and Ann—Anna—Manna, I mean, Goddess, and…and I'm so happy for you!"
I stared at her, a quiver in my stomach as I doubted everything she said.
Were the things she said always so empty? And what about how irritated she was earlier? How can she always just drop everything to do with me and forget it? How can other people just let stuff roll off their backs like that?
Claire seemed to be waiting for me to say something. When I didn't, she continued.
"And tonight was fun! And…and we should all do this again, you know? Hang out all together like this!"
I shook my head.
"What?"
Finally, I opened my mouth, but my words were dull and slurred.
"I like you best when we're alone. Makes me think I know you."
She let out a short laugh. "You do know me!"
"I don't."
"Of course you do!"
I held my eyes on hers, trying to find what she was thinking again and coming up empty-handed. Determined to get a better look, I rolled over onto one elbow to directly face her.
"So, who are you then?"
Her smile weakened the longer she looked back at me, then returned with a flash before she dropped her head.
"What kind of answer do you expect to a question like that?"
"The truth," I shrugged, and my elbow slipped, sending the bar rail digging into the side of my arm.
"You're really drunk," she dismissed with a slight chuckle.
"You too, but you still aren't telling the truth," I winced, rubbing the sore spot. "How—how do you do that? Isn't it hard?"
Claire's smile wavered. "I don't know what you're saying. Maybe you—"
"I'm just saying the truth. I tell the truth when I'm drunk."
A memory of a summer pasture made me squeeze my eyes shut.
"Goddess, or at least what I think is the truth." I dragged my hand across my forehead as if it would scrape the memory away. "How can anyone actually love someone they don't even know?"
She was silent, and I freed my eyes to find her smiling down at the bar.
"I don't know…I guess they can't."
Karen's cheer quickly drowned out Claire's soft voice.
"Don't think for a second I'm leaving without a proper send-off from you!" she croaked as she threw her arms around my neck. I nearly bent back over the bar from the impact.
Over her shoulder, I watched Trent return and place something in Claire's hand—a key, nearly identical to mine.
"Problem solved. I got you a room for the night."
Karen abruptly pushed back from me. She kept her hands on my shoulders, using me as a cover to eavesdrop while watching the couple out of the corners of her glinting eyes. My eyes darted to Claire as anxiety beat inside of me.
Please don't stay.
"I don't want to stay here," she flatly told the key.
Trent let out a much shorter sigh than before. "Why not?"
Her hair slipped off her shoulder as she stared down at her palm, and she made no effort to push it back.
"I don't want to be alone tonight." Her hand closed around the key before she raised her head to him. "Will you stay with me?"
Karen mouthed an exaggerated "Oh my goddess!" before my eyes hit the floor. I slid her hands off my shoulders, but she didn't seem to care or even notice.
Trent lowered his voice to an unintelligible murmur as he responded, but Claire didn't bother to do the same.
"Please? I need you."
I clung to the bar as her words wrung the heart out of me.
When he answered, I was convinced I heard him smile.
"Okay."
Okay. The word was too fast to stop and too bland to get upset over.
There isn't anything I can do about it. I told myself. It'll just have to be okay.
I hunched over the bar, feeling anything but okay as conversations continued around me, uninterrupted and uncontrollable.
"I throw a good party, don't I?" Karen teased the two of them. "We'll have to do this again!"
"Trent's birthday's coming up," Claire happily shared.
"Ah, I've never been one to celebrate my birthday."
"I'll have to do something about that!"
"It's not necessary. I grew out of wanting to a long time ago."
"Hey, was that a dig?" Karen interjected. "Because I'm still a few years younger than you."
"What? No, I—"
"Relax, Doc, I'm teasing! Now go enjoy your early birthday present!"
Trent simply cleared his throat before Ann offered to show them to their room. I turned my head away, trying my best to ignore the couple as they said goodnight to everyone. Gray cast a sidelong glance at what was unfolding before hastily speaking into the phone.
"Look, I gotta go…No, Kai, I'll call tomorrow…"
But I couldn't ignore what was happening. I whipped my head towards Claire as she and Trent followed Ann to the stairs. I wanted to stop them, but I was frozen in place. I wanted to yell at everyone to get out, but my throat was stuck. My heart felt like the only part of me moving as it banged inside my chest. One repeating thought was the only thing louder.
Please, please don't go.
Claire took the first step without a glance towards me.
I cut my eyes away with a quiet, shaking breath. I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to hear her. I didn't want any sense of her at all. I just wanted to fade to nothing.
"They really are from the city," Karen laughed once the sounds of their footsteps faded. "Must be easier when you don't have any family in town breathing down your neck."
Rick stepped closer to her. "Hey, we manage just fine."
"True! You know before we came here—"
"Nope!" Popuri cried out before putting her hands over her ears. "Nope, nope, nope, nope. Goodnight! We're leaving!"
She turned on her heel and began to push Rick towards the door with both hands.
"See my point? Family just gets in the way." Karen slapped a hand against my shoulder. "You're lucky, Cliff!"
She called out her goodbye as she chased the siblings out the door.
"Are you alright?" Mary asked me and placed a cool hand on my shoulder.
"I'll be okay…" I assured her before I blanched at the word.
"You look like you could use some fresh air…" she worried and turned to Gray.
"I'm gonna walk Mary home. Come with us."
"No," I groaned, feeling too heavy to move at all.
"Yes. Let's get out of here." He grabbed my sore arm and pulled me off the bar
"Hey…" I weakly griped and stumbled forward.
I clumsily pulled back but couldn't break his hold.
"What the hell? Lemme go," I said with another yank of my arm. I was getting tired of being pulled around by everyone.
Gray took a step closer and leaned over me, his voice low but unyielding. "C'mon, Cliff. Don't do this to yourself."
"I'm not doing anything," I grunted as I failed another attempt to wrench myself free from him.
Why am I never strong enough?
"Maybe we should just go…" Mary suggested, obviously uncomfortable.
"He's coming with us," he declared, clenching his jaw and grip.
"What's your problem?" I winced. "Just leave me alone already!"
His thumb dug into the sore spot on my arm as he snapped at me. "Goddammit, I'm trying to get you away from them."
I stopped struggling and let nausea turn the world without me.
He knows.
My eyes darted to Mary's, only to find them filled with grey pity. The realization had my face burning.
If he knows, then why didn't he do anything to stop them? I thought, my mouth twitching.
"Now you are," I muttered. "That woulda been more helpful when I was stuck down here so you guys could screw each other."
Gray's mouth tightened as if he were going to spit something back at me, but he merely shoved my arm out of his hand. I stumbled backward from the force of being cut loose so abruptly—I hadn't realized I was leaning into him. Without another glance at me, Gray turned to Mary.
"C'mon."
She silently nodded and took his hand. I was swamped in regret when I noticed the deep shade of red she had turned.
"Goodnight…" she murmured without facing me. Despite my behavior and her embarrassment, she was still trying to be polite.
Gray stalked to the door, Mary shadowing close behind him.
"H-hey…" I mumbled as I tried to follow them.
But it was too late—they were too far away to hear me or didn't care if they could. I didn't know how badly I wanted to leave with them until I was left behind.
I hesitated in the unnaturally quiet dining room, alone and adrift. The spinning quickened now that I had nothing to hold onto and no one to hold onto me. Each turn warned me to sit down before I succumbed to either dizziness or nausea. I faltered to the empty table, the floor creaking under my uneven steps. There was only one clear patch of tabletop where I could rest my head. I collapsed in his chair, roughly knocked his empty coffee cup aside, and laid my head on the dirty table.
If I could've just kept him out of here… I thought, but it wasn't possible. The inn wasn't mine. I only had a room. Just rented space that I could lose after a bad month.
Footsteps tumbled down the steps.
"Geez, this place is trashed," Ann laughed as she rounded the banister and looked at the room with fresh eyes.
I lifted my head to take in the remnants of the party surrounding me. Rings of condensation dotted the ruined tabletop between plates of half-eaten food and sweating glasses. Karen's presents were thoughtlessly abandoned, the remains of their wrappings ripped and scattered across the floor with crushed popcorn kernels and splattered whiskey.
And then there was me.
"Shouldn't leave you with this mess."
"It's no big deal," she shrugged and walked closer. "I'm used to it."
I dropped my head back to the table as the unintended meaning of her words weighed over me.
"Cliff," she said softly. "You're not mad at me, are you?"
"Huh?" I lifted my head. "No."
"You've been getting quieter and quieter since…well, since the kitchen," she stuttered as one arm crossed her body to hold the other. "And the way you were watching everyone dance…I thought maybe you were—maybe I made you uncomfortable, or pressured to be like them—"
I was shaking my head before she could finish her sentence, feeling ashamed of how I had shut her out for most of the night.
"That's not it. I…"
At that moment, I wanted to tell Ann everything about her. But it was too painful to admit. I couldn't even say her name.
"…I just don't know my limits after all," I sighed. I didn't know how much I could drink, how much I could be around her, how much I could let myself start to hope before it was too much.
Ann nodded. "I knew I shouldn't have left you and Rick alone with a whiskey bottle, but Karen told me not to interrupt your 'bonding time.'"
A weary chuckle escaped from my lips.
"Think you can make it to your room?"
I nodded and pushed off the table to stand. It wasn't too hard to make it to my feet on my own, but climbing the staircase was another matter. Just two nights before, I had sprinted to the peak of Mother's Hill, but a single flight of stairs was an impossible challenge that already left my body too heavy to lift. The last thing I wanted to do was climb them alone.
Goddess, I'm so weak.
"Mind helping?" I asked, averting my eyes.
Ann just draped my arm over her shoulder and placed a hand on my back. I let my body lean more heavily against her, not because I couldn't stand on my own, but because it felt good to have someone to lean on. She simply held onto me tighter and moved forward, unphased.
"You're strong…" I slurred.
"Er—what'd you say?"
I tried to orient my tongue in my mouth and enunciate each word. "You are strong."
"Oh, thanks."
"Stronger than me."
"Maybe right now," she teased. "Now up you go!"
I gripped the handrail and Ann's shoulder as she helped me up the sloping steps and caught me the one time I missed a step. When we finally reached the landing, Ann let out a hard breath. I nearly let her go, but the line of warm light under the door next to mine had me leaning into her even more.
"I know you're not this drunk," Ann joked as she shifted under my weight. "You're almost there."
The empty hallway at night seemed tied to loneliness, and each step further into it was bringing me closer to the place I last felt a drunken heartache so strongly. My eyes glanced at the spot of the wall I had leaned against when I kissed Ann. Instantly, I remembered how cool the stone had been against my back and how warm she had felt in my arms…
It was the first memory of the night I didn't want to run away from.
Dizziness swirled in my head before I tightened my hold of her and let my mind drift deeper into the memory. At first, she hadn't moved her lips with mine. My heartbeat had raced as the mistake dawned over my wine-addled mind. I had broken away from her, shamefaced and expecting a well-deserved slap. But instead, she had grabbed me back. Kissed me back.
And it had felt good.
A little rough, I recalled and pressed my numbed lips together, but her lips were soft.
Her arm jostled against my waist as she helped me down the hallway, and I realized I wanted her to grab me again now. I wanted to really feel someone. I wanted that lost warmth.
She said she'd be here for me… I remembered her promise the night of the Fireworks Festival when she had wanted me again.
And she still does, doesn't she? What was the point in pretending I didn't know she was still waiting for me? Her patience was comforting, if confusing. I didn't even want me in my life—why did she?
My head rolled over as I stared into the eyes that had triggered the feeling last time. Maybe they were the right shade after all.
True blue.
Ann must have felt my eyes on her.
"Um, what?" she laughed and turned her head to me. Her long hair brushed against my arm, making my fingers buzz.
I want to touch her hair this time, I thought and imagined wrapping her braid around my hand so she couldn't turn her head to anyone else—something that hadn't occurred to me to do until I saw that light bleeding from under their door.
A ragged ache wracked my chest, and I fled from the feeling to gaze at Ann's lips.
Lips that'd only ever kissed mine.
The thought jarred me from my spiraling imagination back to her shaky confession in the kitchen.
"Ann…"
I reached out with my free hand, not to pull her closer but to right myself against the harsh stone wall as I withdrew from her touch. The guilt I had felt in the kitchen returned sevenfold and rolled in my gut, tangling into a mess with every other feeling of the night.
"Are you going to be sick?" she worried, her hands hovering near me as if she expected me to collapse.
How could I think these things? How could I be so reckless—again? What the hell is wrong with me?
"No, I'll be fine from here on my own."
I was so ashamed of my groping heart that I couldn't even look her in the eyes.
"You sure? You seem—"
"You should go get some rest." I forced a smile, flashing my burning face at her even though I wanted to hide from myself. I wondered if she heard the warning hidden behind the words.
"You too…sleep this off, okay?"
I nodded and dropped my chin to my chest.
"Goodnight…"
Her sneakers reluctantly turned away from me and disappeared down the hallway. I waited until I heard their tread against the stairs before I risked looking at her. The sight of her sinking down the steps had something inside me reaching after her, but I couldn't trust myself not to stoop so low again.
My eyes fell to the light under their door. I dropped my hand down the wall, letting the rough stone scrape my palm.
After a few fumbling attempts to get my key to like the door, I finally managed to unlock my room and stepped inside, locking the door quietly behind me. Not bothering to switch on a light, I staggered through the dark and let myself fall back on my bed.
I let out a deep breath as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Outside the window, the moon shone faint light into the room. It looked so much smaller and further away than it had been only two nights before.
"I wish we stayed up there," I whispered.
Unable to face it any longer, I fixed my gaze up at the ceiling. It was blank and stark, reminding me of something I couldn't quite name. I watched it twist overhead, and my stomach turned with it, ill from something more than whiskey. Then it dawned on me.
A frozen, desolate countryside.
A sickly shiver rocked through me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. The whiskey only spun me faster in the darkness until I had to throw my eyes back open just to slow the world's rotation. Desperate to hold anything still, I searched for something in the dark to focus on, but the wall we shared kept pulling my eyes to it.
I closed my eyes and gripped my cold sheets, trying to will myself to fall asleep in a nauseating whirlwind.
Just want it to be over—
The sound of a familiar voice crashed into my mind, and my eyes flew open. Dulled senses were immediately on high alert as muffled and indistinguishable words passed through the wall.
Then silence.
Then a laugh.
Her laugh.
"No, no, no…" I moaned, my voice hushed between gulped-down breaths.
I rolled over with another wave of dizziness, the sound of my bed creaking underneath me wrenching my nerves. Something smacked onto the ground as my hand scrambled across my bedside table, and I tensed at the noise. Desperately needing strangers' voices to mask out any sound of them, I gripped the TV remote and stabbed at the power button.
Mute, motionless colorbars cast a blue glow on the wall between us.
I dropped the remote to the floor, scrunched my eyes closed, and pressed my hands to my stomach, bracing myself to hear her voice again, or worse.
But the room was spinning in silence.
A sigh of relief had barely escaped my lips before the thought entered my mind.
Why is it so quiet…?
Heavy, harrowing silence was my only answer.
Despite everything I'd seen and heard throughout the night, the darkness and quiet were simply too much for me. My heartbeat thrashed in my ears, and I wished I could still hear her talking. Then I wouldn't think…
Oh, Goddess, why is it so quiet?
I didn't know. I didn't want to know. But I had to know. But I couldn't know.
I heard silence but listened to my grating imagination as sickening thoughts ripped through my mind and tore deeper into the heart of me. The dizziness became malicious, leaving me stirred and shaken as I muttered curses through the pain in the back of my throat. Their sharp sounds were little relief—I needed the loud music from downstairs. I wished I could set my head next to the speaker and feel it shaking against me so loud I couldn't think at all. But I couldn't stop thinking in this quiet. I dug the heel of my palms into my head to relieve the growing pressure, but I was only pushed from all sides as more agonizing details flooded my mind.
Just get out of my head…!
A knock at the door made me jump.
I flung my eyes open and used all the concentration I could muster to hold the door in place. The spinning slowed, but nausea remained as hope began to rise within me. I knew who I wanted it to be—the one person I didn't want to push away, despite everything.
I lurched onto shaky legs and rushed to the door, stumbling over words in my head. I tried to string together something, anything that could reach her as I fumbled with the lock and threw the door open.
Gray jumped back in surprise.
"Forgot my keys," he said, flushed and breathless.
My jaw went numb and my throat went dry as I was gutted.
"Hey…" he said, his mouth hardening.
I pressed my lips together tight to choke the feeling inside me.
"Oh shit. I'll get you some water, hold—"
But I had already covered my mouth and bolted. My shoulder banged against the doorframe as I crashed into the bathroom, fell on my hands and knees, and vomited in the toilet.
The veins in my forehead felt on the verge of bursting as the pressure that had built inside me was released. Retching overwhelmed all my senses, but it was a relief to feel anything other than the turmoil inside me. I draped myself over the toilet bowl, thankful to hear my gagging over my thoughts.
Head pounding, throat burning, and eyes stinging from my self-inflicted sickness, I wiped the sweat from my face and weakly reached to flush the night away. Unable to stand, I kicked myself back until I leaned against the bathroom wall and breathed deeply as the spinning began to settle slowly.
It's over…
Footsteps stomped nearer, and Gray ran into the bathroom, glass of water in wet hand. I accepted it wordlessly and downed it in one. Its coolness pooled inside me with a new, colder feeling until I felt like I was about to overflow.
Gray took the glass from me to refill it from the sink. The sound of running water was a gentler relief.
As Gray reached to turn off the tap, I interrupted him, my voice raw and jagged.
"Leave it on."
Gray grumbled as he turned to hand the glass back to me. "You shouldn't have—"
He stopped himself when he looked down at me. I hid my face with my hands, but it was too late.
He saw.
I stared down at the blurred tile, waiting for Gray to leave.
"She's not worth thinking about," he said quietly.
"Will you shut the door behind you?"
The floor creaked as Gray shifted but didn't immediately turn away. After a moment's hesitation, he set the glass down beside me and slipped out the door.
The moment I heard the door shut, I let out a rush of air and slumped lower against the wall. I felt as if I'd been awake for days. The last thing I remembered before I shut my heavy eyelids was feeling the cool, wet tile against the side of my face and being thankful for the sound of running water.
So yeah, kind of a rough chapter. 😅 I hope the maudlin melodrama wasn't too heavy-handed, but Cliff is a wreck. Sorry he was soooo self-pitying and hypocritical—my eyes rolled after writing a few lines. But a lot of alcohol + heartbreak brings out some of the worst in him. I had to keep skipping between this and writing a much happier chapter in the future just to get a break, which is part of why it took so long to finally finish. He's deep inside his head for most of this chapter, and hopefully, the pacing didn't suffer too much from it.
But hey! The "Karen Saga" is finally over! 🎉 Remember when I said I couldn't wait three weeks to finish it, and then it took me three months? To be fair, they ended up being longer chapters, so it's kind of like I wrote nine of my usual chapters? Don't hate me—ship-sinking is very draining to write. 😉
Rick and Cliff share many similarities but react to things differently (despite both turning to whiskey for a bit in this chapter, haha.) I always want to write Rick being friendly and having a good time, but he just won't let me. He'll have his happier, less codependent moments in the future!
Oh yeah, hopefully it can be reasonably inferred, but Gray had suspicions that Cliff had feelings for Claire back in Chapter 20. He figured Cliff had gotten over it until he started following her around all night. You may have picked up on Gray's irritation with Claire and Cliff's flirting during the drinking game, even if Cliff didn't. You know he ranted about how stupid Cliff was the entire way to Mary's, then ran back as fast as he could to check on him.
Boy, this chapter practically has its own playlist, but I'll mention a few favorites. I listened to "Apocalypse" by Cigarettes After Sex a lot while writing Trent and Claire's dance. I enjoyed the very drunk-sounding "Devotion" by Weezer for Cliff's low moment with Ann. I think that's a fun song to have people listen to and see whether they think it is romantic or not—I get surprisingly mixed results. And for the end, I love Nirvana's cover of "Where Did You Sleep Last Night." I blast it at max volume every time I listen to it, but it's never loud enough.
This semester is much more work-heavy for me, so I still don't have a regular update schedule in mind. I'll add an update schedule in the description once it's figured out.
Honestly, I'm nervous about this chapter and would appreciate any readers dropping a comment or message to let me know what you thought, good or bad. Yeah, I'm shamelessly asking, lol.
See you next time for the morning after!