Unveiling The Sky (28 page)

“It was just a fight.”

“You don’t fight with people, you barely raise your voice,” she said as a smile slowly spread across her face.

“Why are you smiling like that’s a good thing? It wasn’t exactly a stupid what-should-we-watch-on-TV type fight, but a really bad fight. The type of fight that makes me wonder if this is a good idea.” Naomi’s smile quickly dropped and a scowl took its place. “Look, I know you’re mad I didn’t tell you and I’m sorry—”

There was pain in her eyes, but not the kind I was expecting, as she interrupted me. “I’m not mad because you didn’t tell me.”

“So why are you mad?” I asked, slowly drawing out each word.

She inhaled a deep breath and placed her palms flat on the bed behind her, leaning back on her arms. “I’m mad because you deserve him and I’m afraid you won’t let yourself have him.”

“I’m just trying to be realistic.” But a part of me knew it was a cop-out, and Naomi was quick to call me on it.

“That’s just what pessimists say when they don’t want to admit they’re pessimists.” Naomi leaned forward and let out an exhausted sigh. “Being an optimist doesn’t mean thinking everything is going to be perfect all the time. Being an optimist is merely believing that the good things will outweigh the bad things.”

“But what if they don’t?” I whispered.

“You just have to make them. There’s a lot of shit in this world that makes no fucking sense. But the only chance we have of surviving it is by making the good things count, and maybe we’re tipping the scales and lying to ourselves by saying they are worth more but I think it’s a necessary, and beautiful, lie.”

I stared down at my lap where my hands were nervously twisting and twitching. “We started talking about suicide and I don’t know, it just left me raw and with this horrible, sinking feeling that he’s not going to understand. That he’ll want to call off… whatever it is we’re doing,” I said as I waved a hand in front of me. “And I like him, I mean I really,
really
like him. It’s scary as shit but I can’t imagine him not in my life, which is crazy because it’s only been like three months.”

“It’s not crazy, I think it’s wonderful.” I frowned at her tone; she almost sounded wistful.

“Are you okay?” I asked, putting my own problems on the back burner. My frown deepened as I thought over the last few months. “God, I feel like such a jerk. We haven’t talked about you at all lately, have we?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, you know if I needed to I’d vent.”

I stared at her for a few minutes. She sounded fine but I also knew she was an expert in being able to cover it up, a handy skill for a lawyer but not so convenient for her friends. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.” Her voice was bright and cheery for all but a second. And while she left the room with a smile on her face, all I thought about was that second. I knew that second, I lived that second. The second where you let your guard down and show the world everything you’re too afraid to say. Most ignore that second—it’s easier that way, I suppose. But I wouldn’t do that to Naomi; I wouldn’t let her hide behind a fake smile and false words.
 

So as much as I wanted to, I knew that I couldn’t hide anymore either. I had to tell Gabe everything, even if it killed me.

I stayed at the gym for nearly three hours and I was still a nervous wreck when I got home. I quickly showered and changed, leaving just enough time to make a quick dinner. I was staring at the kitchen table and wondered if she’d be mad that I went against her wishes about dinner; I didn’t want her to feel trapped here, but I really didn’t want her to have any excuse to leave early. I was still second-guessing myself when someone knocked on the door. Looking at the clock, I saw there was still fifteen minutes before Alara was supposed to arrive. Hopefully she was just early, because I really couldn’t handle seeing anyone else right now.

Opening the door, I immediately breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of her familiar green eyes. I was even more relieved that the anger I saw last night was nowhere in sight. “I need to explain a few things,” I blurted out.

She took a deep breath and with a scared and unsure gaze, stepped across the threshold. “Yeah, me too.”

I closed the door and helped her out of her jacket before walking into the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” When she didn’t answer, I walked back out to find her staring at the set dining table.

“You made dinner?”

“Uh, yeah. I know you said not to and you probably already ate, but…” I trailed off before rubbing my hand over my head and squeezing the back of my neck.

“No, I didn’t. I just… I don’t know.” She laughed uncomfortably and shifted on her feet.
 

I swallowed nervously and took a few steps forward. “I’m so sorry, Alara. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that and—”

“I understand, it was a sensitive subject.”

“Yeah…” I closed the distance between us, cupping her cheek and slowly brushing my thumb across her face. “I just didn’t realize it was going to be a sensitive subject for you.”

Her eyes widened and I saw her swallow as her gaze bounced around the apartment behind me. She gave me an unsure smile as she withdrew from my hand. “Maybe… maybe we could talk more about your thing first?”

It broke my heart to see her so unsure of herself, like she thought whatever she was going to say would change how I felt about her. “Yeah, of course. Maybe it’d be easier over dinner?”

After preparing our plates, we sat down at the table and started eating in silence. A few minutes had gone by and Alara hadn’t even looked up. I paused and took a deep breath before speaking. “Calling my mom selfish is something I’m always going to regret. I just… I panicked.” Something in my voice must have resonated with Alara, because she finally looked up and met my eyes.

“When she first asked me, I couldn’t believe it. I mean my mom loved the shit out of life. She found something to love in every season, something to love in every person and she never complained about anything. And even though what happened to her was so damn unfair, she still stayed strong and positive. She never let it get her down. She never cried or got mad. She still just… loved everything. Or so I thought.” I paused and let out a breath. “But one night I got to the hospital earlier than she was expecting, and I realized all that had been a lie. I stopped at the door when I heard her sniffling. I’d never heard her cry before. Never. And even though the situation clearly warranted it, I couldn’t help but feel let down and even a little...” I trailed off, ashamed at my thoughts.

“Mad?” she asked softly.

I gave her a sad smile. “Yeah, her being strong made it easier for me to pretend she was okay. You were right when you said that I got to escape and she never could. I didn’t understand, and honestly I was happy pretending. Her falling apart made it all so
real,
and I wasn’t ready to live in a world without her. Sometimes I still don’t think I am.”

We had both stopped pretending to eat, our plates untouched since we started talking. Alara stood up and walked over to me. She slid her hand down my arm until she linked our fingers. I let her pull me up and guide me to the couch were we sat down next to each other. She motioned for me to continue and with a resigned breath, I did.

“After that night I started paying better attention, telling myself I’d be better for her. If I couldn’t save her from cancer, I could at least save her from her sadness. I started stopping by at unexpected hours trying to see if I could gauge her true feelings again, since apparently she never showed them to me. But I never heard her crying again—every time I walked by her room, she was humming or singing. So when I walked in one day to her bright smile and warm eyes, I sure as hell wasn’t expecting her to ask for my help to kill herself.

“She told me how much thought she’d given it and she listed all the practical reasons why I should help her. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She didn’t make it past reason number three before I was yelling at her. Telling her she was selfish was my desperate attempt at keeping her.” I paused and let out a loud breath. “She didn’t deserve it. I was just so damn scared, and that made me angry. Eventually all that was left was complete and utter despair. I begged her, I told her I wanted more time with her, told her we all wanted more time. She eventually started crying and relented.”

I broke eye contact to look down at our hands. “I didn’t understand, hell, I still don’t. But after she went to sleep that night, all I kept thinking was… why didn’t she want to spend more time with me?” My voice cracked and I felt tears run down my cheeks. I brought my head down to rest on our joined hands; I closed my eyes and took deep breaths in an effort to stop my tears. I felt Alara’s unoccupied hand brush through my hair, trying to comfort me, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. My breathing sped up as the tears escaped faster and fell on our hands. We sat there for a few minutes while I silently cried, and Alara’s grip never weakened; if anything, it got stronger. I slowly sat up, and she gave me the first genuine smile I’d seen since she walked in.

“You okay?”

“No,” I said softly as I shook my head for emphasis. “I know she was in pain, but I don’t know if I’ll ever understand how she could want to kill herself when she still had me and my sister and so many other things she loved.”

Alara was quiet for so long I thought she wasn’t going to say anything. My eyes were on our hands again when she gently removed hers while simultaneously extracting her other hand from my hair. She flipped her left palm up and thoughtfully traced the scar there. I hadn’t thought twice when I’d seen that scar before; it was simply something I was going to learn about later on. A childhood accident, a prank gone wrong, a cooking lesson gone astray. But I was quickly realizing that it wasn’t going to be any of those things—it was going to be so much worse.

I stared at her hands with rapt attention as Alara pressed her fingers a little harder along the scar. When she finally spoke, her response was pained and so soft that I almost didn’t hear it.

“I do.”

I looked up and found her eyes squeezed shut and lips trembling. “You do what?” I asked.

Another silence stretched on in which I thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and looked right at me as she spoke eleven words that would break my heart.
 

“I know what it feels like to want to kill myself.”

Trying to buy some time, I disentangled myself and walked over to my bag. I was aimlessly digging around when I saw the ugly orange bottle I’d spent months trying to hide. Tears came to my eyes as I looked at the bottle, and all at once I imagined all the pills I’d ever taken and all the pills I’d be taking every day, twice a day, for the rest of my life. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. How appropriate that I would tell him and immediately have a meltdown.

Gabe came up behind me and gently took the bottle from my shaking hand, slowing turning it while he examined the label. He finally looked up at me, but I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. My mouth had gone completely dry as my hands continued to shake. I tried to speak but nothing came out. Our staring contest continued and with it my anxiety increased, until it was suffocating me and I had no choice but to leave. Without another thought, I quickly ducked around him and headed for the door, even though my bag was still on the floor behind me. I was so lost in my own thoughts I didn’t hear him move, I didn’t register anything until his hand came crashing down on the door I was trying to open. I jumped in surprise and even though he wouldn’t let me leave, I stayed facing the door.