I'm sorry that these are such dark times. Thank you for reading.
I startled awake suddenly, sitting up in bed way too fast. Everything went spinning around me, and I felt my stomach roll, preparing to wage war.
Slowly, I lowered myself back down, the pillow enveloping my head. It was throbbing painfully, and I had to take deep breaths through my mouth—trying to relax and settle my stomach.
I reached for my phone, which was plugged in and sitting on the bed next to my pillow. It was 12:17. I had slept past noon, and yet I didn't feel rested in the least. My eyes, losing the battle to stay open, slid closed heavily. I didn't want to go back to sleep, though; I knew I had stuff that I definitely should be doing.
Suddenly, I recalled the events of the night before. I snapped my eyes open, but resisted the urge to sit up too quickly again. "Eli?" I asked the room, waiting for a response.
When none came, I sat up very carefully—the room still started to go tipsy turvy—and looked around. The bean bag chair was empty.
Resisting the urge to pout, I swung my legs out from under the covers. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I noticed that someone had refilled a cup with water and left a folded sheet of notebook paper next to it. Minding my head, I leaned over to scoop it up.
Even though the letters seemed to vibrate around the page, I managed to read it:
Clare, sorry for taking off; I had to be at work at ten. Drink lots of water. I left aspirin on your desk. See you later. -Eli
Standing very, very slowly, I grabbed my glass of water and went looking for the aspirin he mentioned, touched by his thoughtfulness. And even though it felt like someone was using my cerebral cortex as a punching bag, Eli's caring nature made me ache for my mother.
Sitting at the hard wooden desk of my chair, I took two pills out of the bottle Eli left behind and then drowned the water in the glass. My muscles were exhausted, and I dropped my head into my hands. I knew that crying wasn't going to help my headache in the least, but I suddenly couldn't stop the sobs that had been building in my chest.
I don't know how long I was crying before Imogen was suddenly there, her thin—and surprisingly strong—arm suddenly around my shaking shoulders. "Clare Edwards, shh, it's okay. Sweetie, you have to calm down," her voice was low and soothing in my ear. Her warm, soft palms rubbed up and down my arms. "You're going to have to breathe soon. Please?"
Hearing the slight edge of panic in Imogen's voice brought me back to myself enough to slow the shuddering and the tears. "H-how…?" I tried unsuccessfully to formulate a question, but Imogen shook her head gently, rubbing my back.
"Have some facial tissues," she chirped, producing a small package from the bag slung across her shoulder. "And, here, I'll refill your water," Imogen said as she reached across me for the glass. She dropped the bag on the ground where a suitcase and hamper were already thrown and forgotten.
After she skipped out of the room, I felt the full effects of the headache-upon-headache I had created for myself start to settle. The pain made me want to start crying all over again, but I bit it back. I gratefully plucked a few tissues from the plastic wrapping and tried to make myself semi-presentable again.
I had just tossed the dirtied tissues in the wastebasket when Imogen came back into the room, my glass in her outstretched hand. "Wanna talk about it?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.
"It's just family stuff." Even though Imogen had been very sweet, I wasn't sure I was comfortable with telling her all about my problems.
But she nodded along sympathetically as if I had told her the entire, sordid tale. "My mom, Natalie, she's a spinal surgeon, and her husband was awful. She'd leave me alone all the time with him. And my dad has early onset dementia, so we had to put him in a care facility when I was in grade eight. I get family stuff."
It was weird to think that I had been living with Imogen for a couple weeks, and that was the first time that I really saw her as a person and not as the entity of my roommate. I immediately felt awful when I realized that was how I had been thinking about Imogen. "I'm sorry Imogen. That sounds like it was really difficult."
"It was," she shrugged, a sad and wistful smile on her face. "But it's part of what made me who I am, you know? Those are my stories, the tales people get to excavate from my personality. Looking back now, I can appreciate how strong of a person I am today. Everyone has problems, Clare. Getting through them is part of the human condition, and you'll get through whatever your family's going through." She delivered her insightful speech all while cheerfully flitting around the room and unpacking her bags. I sat at my desk, mouth a little slack, just staring at her. "A shower might make you feel better," she suggested lightly.
Nodding mutely, suddenly aware of the rancid taste in my mouth, I gathered my shower caddy and headed for the bathroom. I passed in the doorway, turning back to watch Imogen haphazardly throw her clean clothes in drawers. "Hey," I murmured to get her attention. "Thank you. Really."
Imogen smiled hugely. "You're really welcome, Clare Edwards."
###
After I had showered and dressed in comfy clothes, I drank a few more glasses of water—hydrating my abused body. Imogen had left a note wishing me well and letting me know that she had some workshop in the theater building for the rest of the evening.
Alone, my head still aching lightly, I pulled my phone off its charger and dialed Mom's number. I remembered that she was busy at the church just as I got her voicemail. "Hey Mom," I cleared my throat, trying not to sound like I got really drunk last night. "I was just calling to see how everything was going. I hope you're okay. Give my love to Grams. I love you. Bye."
I stared at my phone for a few seconds, considering Imogen's words. Everything had seemed so doom and gloom the night before—like my parents' marriage falling apart would be the end of the world. Now, I wondered if I had acted selfishly. If it was hard for me, it had to be a thousand times harder on my mom, and I needed to find my strength to help her.
And my dad, I considered as an afterthought, guilt corroding my mind immediately. I didn't know for sure if he was cheating on Mom. And, even if he was, he was still my dad, and I should still want to get his side of things. Right?
Frustrated, confused, and hung over, I grabbed my laptop and crawled back into my bed. After a few taxing and basically fruitless hours of trying to work, there was a soft knock on my door.
Grateful for any excuse to stop working, I snapped my laptop shut and swung the door open. Standing there, dressed in dark jeans, a ratty, grey thermal, and a t-shirt for some band called The Decemberists pulled over it, Eli smirked slowly at my disheveled appearance. "How's that teenage rebellion feeling?" he asked smugly.
"Like someone took and industrial sander to my brain," I answered after a moment of consideration.
"Harsh," Eli play winced. "That's quite the image."
"I think it has its place somewhere in a Poe story," I said decidedly.
Eli's eyes twinkled with playfulness. "And on that delightful note, you think your stomach could take a meal right now?"
As if on cue, my stomach let out an audible rumble. I hadn't realized that I neglected food all day, and it was almost five. "I have a feeling I'm about to find out."
"Excellent," Eli smiled. "There's a diner on campus that serves breakfast all day. What say you, milady?"
"I say I have a hankering for some hash browns."
"Then hash browns you shall have," he bowed, offering his arm to me.
With a giggle, I looped my arm through his. "Lead the way, good sir."
###
"How in the world did I not know this place existed?" I whined, eagerly devouring my plate of eggs, hash browns, and bacon. At first, the smells had been an assault to my delicate state, and I had cautiously taken bites of my food. But once I was sure my stomach was settled enough to handle it, I dove into the food in earnest. It was greasy, glorious comfort food, and it was exactly what I needed.
"It is a little-known gem," Eli agreed. He was working on a heaping plate of waffles and sausage links drowning in maple syrup. We ate in silence for a few minutes. "How are you?" he asked finally.
Glancing up to meet his eye, it's evident that he was not talking about my physical ailments. Concern so genuine and touching radiated from his gentle expression, and I had to look away—my heart fluttering. "I feel…better," I sighed, "but—," I trailed off, not really sure what I wanted to communicate anyway. "I feel better," I reiterated.
He nodded. "No more drinking to solve your problems?"
I dipped my head down, ashamed. "Never, ever again. Waking up was torture."
Eli laughed. "Alcohol isn't evil you know. You just have to take care of yourself when you decide to drink; you have to use for the right reasons."
"Thank you, Mr. PSA," I scowled playfully at him.
"Oh, my pleasure," he grinned wickedly. Then, suddenly, his expression grew serious, reserved—almost frightened. "So, about last night…," he trailed off. I waited for him to get his bearings and finish. "What I…admitted," he struggled for words. "That didn't freak you out, did it?"
He looked at me from under his thick, dark lashes, hesitancy and dread resonating from his soulful eyes. Carefully, I reached out to place my hand over his. Without thinking, he flipped his over to lock our fingers together, and my heart started to race—trying to beat itself right up my throat and out of my mouth. "No," I promised. "It makes me sad that you felt that desperate at some point in your life. But it doesn't freak me out."
He nodded, looking relived. "It's not like I've told a lot of people, but—the ones I have—well, it doesn't always have the most positive effect on my relationships." He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.
"I don't scare that easily," I shrugged, going for some levity. "Besides, if either of us has the right to run away screaming, completely freaked out, it's you. I'm the one who went on a binge drinking fest and then threw up all over campus." My stomach roared a little as if remembering last night, too.
"Pfft," Eli waved away my joke, a smirk on his lips. "It takes much more than that to send me packing. I guess you're stuck with me."
"Well, that's a two-way street, Captain Moody."
###
Tuesday morning, I took my usual seat in Physics next to Adam. "Have a good morning coffee," I greeted him, sliding the extra cup—two little squirts of Vanilla creamer and a packet of sugar—over to him. I set my own coffee down and extracted my books from my bag before I turned to get a look at Adam's face. "Oh, God, Adam, what happened to you?"
Adam's hands went to his face almost immediately. "Oh, this?" He waved his hand like he could bat away my worry. "This isn't a big deal."
"B-but…your eye," was all I managed.
"I may have gotten punched a little."
"By who?" I roared, just about ready to storm out of the classroom and track down the person who had done this to my friend.
Adam grabbed onto my arm as if sensing my plan. "Calm down, would you? Geeze, Clare, you would think you had found me bloodied and within inches of my life. It's just a black eye."
"Was it your roommate?" I demanded, not to be assuaged by his nonchalance. "That Owen guy?"
"Look, I contacted housing this morning. This isn't you battle," his voice was pitched lower than normal, all serious and un-Adam-like.
"I just don't understand why they're hurting you."
Dr. Leskov walked in, then, heading toward the front of the lecture hall to start class. Adam seemed to be struggling with something, his eyebrows pulling together uncharacteristically. Finally, though, in lieu of an answer, Adam just shrugged.
Turning my focus to Dr. Leskov, I reserved myself to find out what was going on with Adam. He wasn't safe if the person he lived with was beating him up all the time. And I wasn't just going to sit around and let someone hurt my best friend.
As soon as class was dismissed, I turned to Adam. "Want to get lunch or something?"
He had already packed up his things, looking ready to make a run for it. "I have work to do." He grimaced apologetically, but the usual sparkle in his eye was absent. "Thanks for the coffee, Clare. We'll talk later."
I sat, stunned, watching his retreating figure. After a few seconds, I methodically gathered my things and sent a text to Eli: lunch at The Dot?
I started walking there, and it didn't take Eli very long to respond: still in class, see you in 15?
Sounds good, I typed. The student center was crowded, and after a couple days of the mostly-empty campus, I was feeling overwhelmed by all the activity. Plus, my mother hadn't returned my call even though she had promised she would call me after the bake sale. School was starting to get seriously time consuming, and we had our first Dawes test on Jane Eyre coming up. And now Adam was in trouble….
Everything seemed to be building up to stress me out, and I didn't want to wait till I got to my breaking point again, with all the drinking and the puking.
Taking a few deep, calming breaths, I stepped up to the counter and ordered an iced coffee for myself and a black house blend for Eli. He showed up just as I was settling into a booth as far away from the crowds of people as I could get.
"Someone looks like they woke up with a magical ray of sun shining out of her behind." Eli chuckled as he slid in across from me. "Thanks," he nodded as I slid him his coffee. "Why so glum, Edwards?"
"Shall I count the ways?" I joked, already feeling a little better with Eli around. Like my life was somehow more manageable when I was with him.
"Only if you'd like," he offered, getting serious. "I'm all ears."
"Most of it is old news."
"Your parents are still fighting."
"Not exactly. Well, maybe. I'd know if my mom would call me back," I grumbled, letting the bitterness seep through a little. "I think she's probably avoiding me to protect me or whatever, but I just wish she'd let me be there for her."
Eli nodded sympathetically, reaching out to take my hand. We had been doing more of that lately…holding hands. It was especially nice given my full-speed-ahead charge into insanity. "Maybe she needs you to make the first move," Eli suggested. "Show her that you're a responsible adult, that she doesn't need to protect you from anything."
"Yeah, but how?"
"You'll think of something. You always do," Eli squeezed my hand comfortingly, his eyes shining with gentleness.
"Thanks," I smiled, melting a little. "Oh, but that's not why I wanted to meet."
Eli waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Really now?" he smirked.
"Ew, no!" I admonished him.
"What was gross about that?" he scoffed. "You find me repulsive, Edwards?"
"Yes. You are very icky: clearly infected with cooties." I joked, but I let my eyes take in his appearance appreciatively. He had on yet another band t-shirt under his military jacket—this one for Fall Out Boy—and it looked much more worn than his others. It seemed a little smaller, too, hugging his chest to reveal that he wasn't nearly as skinny as he appeared. There was some definition to his scrawny, lithe body.
Oh, God, had I really just thought that? My cheeks flamed, and it felt like the room was suddenly ten degrees warmer than it had been seconds ago. "Mhmm," his eyes had that mischievous sparkle, his smirk more defined than usual. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
Though not at all repulsed by the idea, I instinctively withdrew my hand from his to fiddle with my promise ring. Eli cocked an eyebrow in question, confused by my sudden extraction and silence. To divert his attention, though, I blurted, "I'm worried about Adam."
Both of Eli's eyebrows flew up toward his hairline. "Okay…why?"
"His roommate keeps injuring him, but he won't tell me why. All he said was that it wasn't my battle," I huffed.
Eli shrugged. "Maybe he's right."
"Excuse me?"
Eli laughed off my incredulity. "Look, what I'm saying is, Adam's a big boy, Clare. If he wants to deal with the issue alone, let him. If he wants to talk about it, be there for him."
"It's not that simple," I pouted.
"No? Sounds pretty simple to me. Take it from someone who has had their fair share of issues: Adam will come to you when he needs help. Pushing won't do any good."
I rolled my eyes. "That's a stupid motto, and I'm not pushing." Eli shot me a pointed look. "What? I'm really not. But I am really concerned that Owen might cause some kind of permanent damage; this isn't something to play around with."
"Wait, Owen? As in Owen Milligan, with the eyebrows, is on the wrestling team here."
"Probably? I don't know his last name or anything, but I saw him once. He does have intense eyebrows."
"Yeah, and he's a real rat bastard," Eli practically growled. "I went to high school with the creep, and he made my life as difficult as possible."
"He gave Adam a black eye. And he did something to his shoulder."
Eli looked deeply conflicted. Finally, he conceded. "Okay, we'll talk to him. But if he seems really uncomfortable, we drop it."
"Sounds reasonable," I agreed. "We should get dinner tonight."
Eli glanced up, a hopeful gleam in his eye before an uncharacteristic flush colored his cheeks and he looked away. "All three of us, you mean."
A moment too late, I realized what Eli must have thought what I meant. My heart rate skyrocketed at the poorly concealed disappointment in his voice. "Well, not necessarily." I gulped, trying to hold on to my courage.
Eli half-smiled, "So what did you mean?"
"We should definitely talk to Adam—and the sooner the better because I'm really worried about his health and all. But I wouldn't mind…that is to say, it would make me really happy if, you know, if we maybe, possibly went on a date sometime," I finally concluded, my fingers still nervously fiddling with my promise ring.
Eli chuckled, clearly pleased. "Twist my rubber arm."
"That's a yes, right?"
"That's more of a fuck yes, Edwards."
I blushed, feeling inexplicably warm. "Tonight then?"
"Someone's eager," Eli smirked, pleased with himself. "How about we go to this poetry slam they hold at the local bookstore?"
"It's a date."
###
After arranging a breakfast with Adam the next morning, Eli and I had parted ways—both of us a little bubblier than usual, our hug lingering.
Finally, after a long day of class and homework, I was standing in front of Eli's dorm, smoothing my hands over my turquoise dress. They were all sweaty, and I was jittery. Part of me was afraid to knock on the door. Eli was a passionate, sensitive, creative guy, and I loved getting to know him. I was sure that I wanted him in my life long-term, and I was definitely attracted to him. Not a day went by without some kind of inappropriate thought invoked by his sly smirk or his glimmering, mischievous eyes.
But what if it didn't work? What if, even though we like each other just fine, eventually we started hurting each other? Not physically, no; what if we left more permanent marks of pain and suffering on each other.
Suddenly several miles past panicked, I turned on my heel and raced away from Eli's door, not even sparing a glance back.
He found me on the second floor of the library, staring dejectedly out the window where the sun had left pink and orange stains on the darkening sky.
"Standing me up, Edwards?" His voice was carefully playful, just a hint of sadness coloring his words.
"Not…," I took a deep breath. "Not on purpose."
He chuckled, joining me on the uncomfortable, plastic couch. "Come on: talk to me."
"Why should I? You won't talk to me. Not about the big stuff."
"That's not fair," Eli's voice was heated. "I need time, I want to do it right."
"Maybe I need time, too." I tried to work bitterness into my voice, but it came out sounding defeated more than anything else.
Somehow understanding what was going on in my mind, Eli placed a comforting hand between my shoulder blades. "Clare, we're not your parents," he whispered.
"You have no way of knowing that," I pointed out. "We're friends now—good friends—and I like the way we work. There are so many ways everything could go wrong…so many ways I could hurt you."
"That's the beauty of it, though," Eli smiled sadly. His hands moved to gently tuck a curl behind my ear and my heart went crazy. He coaxed my face around to look at his, his eyes heart wrenchingly earnest. "There are so many ways for a relationship to go wrong, so it's all the more triumphant when it goes right."
"You should write that down," I murmured, transfixed by how close we suddenly were. Our bodies had unconsciously started to lean into each other, and if I wanted to move forward just a smidge, my lips would be hovering over Eli's. My eyes flittered down and then back to his eyes.
Eli laughed softly, and his minty breath fanned over my face. "I'm terrified, too, you know."
"Why are you scared?" I whispered back to him, feeling like little kids trading secrets.
"I don't think you understand the effect you have on people, Clare. I spend all day wishing I could be the kind of person a genuinely good human such as yourself deserves. You spend so much time reaching out and helping everyone else—you are so selfless. And I don't want to just be another damaged person you have to take care of. I want to be able to take care of you, too. And that terrifies me."
"You already do take care of me," I promised him. "I always feel better when I'm around you—like I can make it through everything as long as you're around."
"It sounds like one of us is just going to have to stop being terrified and make a move," Eli grinned, his eyes sparking with amusement.
"Yes, but who?" I breathed, my heart trapped inside my throat.
As an answer, Eli slowly let his hand drift to cup my cheek, his fingertips idly tickling the hair at the nape of my neck. I was holding my breath, my eyes wide, and I had to actively convince myself that I wasn't dreaming. He tilted his head up just a bit, his lips hovering over mine.
Teasing, he stayed there, his eyes locked on mine: daring me to pull away.
Instead, I kissed him. Right there in the library on the glorious, plastic couch. I closed the distance between our lips, parting mine just slightly. With a soft groan, Eli flexed his hand possessively, and my hands found their way to Eli's waist, tugging his as close as possible.
When we parted, I felt the world rush back to me, falling into place around us. My head was spinning, drowning in Eli. "That was…," I started, but I was unable to find an acceptable adjective.
Eli nodded, his trademark smirk making him look impossibly appealing. "I've been thinking about doing that since I first saw you in that hallway outside of Women's Lit," he admitted.
"And how did reality compare?" I asked coyly, blushing.
Eli rolled his eyes. "You ask stupid questions, Edwards," he teased before kissing me again.
And again.
And again.
