CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Halfway Through My 20s
LAKE
Serenity bends at the coffee table to fix the different trays of food she has spread around. She got a meat and cheese platter, a fruit tray, chicken popcorn and nachos with salsa. It’s a lot of food to split between three people, but I’d eat it all myself if I could.
I take a slow sip of my soda and narrow in on the pretty dress she’s swung herself into. One of the few dresses I stuck in the top of her dresser drawer.
Today’s my birthday. No better way to celebrate than this.
Brooks is coming by soon, and we’re gonna hangout here. He wanted to get us reservations, but I’ve had enough of restaurants. They’re only for Angel and me.
She stands, and she catches her surprise out of the corner of her eye. And the big, shocked face she has makes it worth it. Her arm shoots out beside her and she points to her new bookshelf.
Built it this morning when she was asleep. I tried to organize her books too. It’s been weighing on me how much this woman is in over her head. For the longest time, I thought she only enjoyed her rom-com movies, but each book is in perfect condition, like she treasures them just as much as her old DVDs. She’s just been too tired to read one. She looks at the stack every time she switches on the TV, longing for the pages.
If she has a space to put her books and organize them, it might motivate her to read again, because the pressure of fixing something broken isn’t on her shoulders anymore.
Her smile almost blinds me. “You got me a bookshelf?”
My lips twitch. “Yeah.”
I put my soda on the counter behind me as Serenity dashes at me with opened arms. She jumps when she reaches me, folding her arms around my neck. Her feet lift a couple inches off of the ground. I secure my arms around her and feel her heartbeat thud on my chest.
God, this girl.
“But it’s your birthday!” She draws back, letting her feet hit the hardwood. “And you’re days away from being seven weeks sober.”
“More of a reason to get you a bookshelf, Angel.”
She sighs and smooches my cheek. “You’re great, Lake. Thank you.”
That sentence transports me back to that day in the hospital. I was questioning everything, stuck in my own head, but she floated right into my room, calmed me, and agreed to marry me so we could help each other. That’s what we decided. If she got to save me, I’d be helping her. She told me I’m great, and I had a fat grin on my face. For a second, I thought I was having a stroke.
That fat, gushy smile is stuck on my face every damn day now.
“Thank you,” she repeats, kissing my cheek a second time. “Happy birthday, Lake.”
Yeah. It’s my birthday.
Why do I feel guilty?
The doorbell rings. I drag myself away from Serenity and make my way down the hall. On the opposite side stands Brooks’ silhouette. His shoulders are right at his ears, and I’m not gonna pretend he wants to be here over checking emails, cooped up in his office. But he’s shown up, anyway.
I unlock the door and open it, to Serenity’s second surprise of the day. Her surprise runs between my legs, sniffing me, but when he hears Serenity’s squeal from down the hallway, he books it right to her.
“Deeogie!” Brooks shouts. “Fine. Whatever.”
Deeogie is a five-year-old black lab that my brother rescued. Never knew what to call the guy. Ended up naming him D-O-G, Deeogie.
“Deeogie?” Serenity squats to pet him. “You’re such a good baby!”
The dog ends up pushing her on the floor, licking all over her pretty face. I step in her direction to save her, but my feet plant on the ground when she giggles, not bothered at all by the goopy affection.
“Wow, he’s just like you,” Brooks taunts.
I shoot my brother a look. I won’t give him any details about me and Serenity, and his dramatic, workaholic, needs entertainment-self is losing it.
He swings out his arms. “Happy birthday, man!” He claps his hand on my back, squeezing me too much. When he pulls away, I see the cheerful, flashy grin on his face.
I get why he’s happy. Before my overdose, he was watching me fall deeper than rock bottom. He was trying everything, but he couldn’t fix it. With me always running, there was never a right time to reveal River’s inheritance and zero promises I’d hold the capacity to listen to him.
My overdose scared him more than it scared me. I am his baby brother, but I’m also that kid he lived with for a decade of his life. He knows where I come from. He’s told me before he feels like he won the lottery getting out of our ma’s life.
That day he moved out, all that happiness he was showing wasn’t meeting his eyes. My best friend, my brother, he didn’t wanna leave us behind, but he had no choice but to escape the trauma trailer.
Watching me turn twenty-five is a damn miracle. I don’t blame him. I never thought I’d make it, and I didn’t plan to. He knows I didn’t aim to make it this far. I think both of us were more prepared for me to drop dead.
“Sure you don’t wanna go out?” Brooks asks. “I can call up some places and get a reservation. Maybe The Grille?”
Impersonating my brother isn’t shocking to either of us, but if Brooks finds out I broke into his office, he might go into cardiac arrest. “Just wanna stay home.”
“Okay.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s celebrate.”
I bite on the inside of my cheek, watching him move around me. There’s no point in asking, but I say his name, anyway. “Brooks?”
He stops ahead of me, peering back over his shoulder.
“Have you talked with the lawyer?”
Brooks shakes his head, a softness to it. “I’m sorry, buddy, I can’t get them yet.”
***
Brooks tells stories about me all evening, like I’m his successful child that just graduated from med school. Serenity spends the whole time laughing her lungs dry, while trying to give me as much attention as she’s giving the dog, but the dog keeps winning her affection. Doesn’t bother me. As long as she’s smiling.
Most of the food is cleared from the coffee table because I shoved it all down while Brooks was yapping. Now he’s trying to distract me while Serenity rushes to the kitchen, grabs something from the fridge, and vanishes into the dining room.
My sweet tooth throbs. I hope it’s cake.
It’s Serenity. Of course she’d get me a cake.
Brooks springs up from the couch. “I’ll be right back,” he announces, following Angel to where I can’t see.
Deeogie taps his feet on the floor, licking my hand once and letting me scratch his back, then he snags a piece of cheese from the table before also charging into the dining room.
Birthdays.
This isn’t how I remember parties going before I got sober. Then again, I don’t remember half of the parties I went to, and I only ever went to get free stuff. I was never there for socialization, and I’d force a bunch of friendly interactions. But after River died, I stopped going to parties as much, and I found other ways to get my drugs.
Going to any party after her death only added to my guilt. Cause me getting high at a random stranger’s party screwed me out of being with her when she took her last breath.
I stopped talking to River a couple months before, but I knew she wouldn’t give up on me that easily. I threw some plates at her cupboard, shattering them to bits. She was crying and begging me to calm down, but I didn’t listen. I lied and told her I wanted her out of my life. I faked my aggression to scare her.
River never cried. I trusted I did enough damage to force her to keep her distance, but then the incident happened, and I still regret everything.
My eyes sting at the bright lights mixed with the sun blasting through the tall windows. I raise my hand over my face, trying to adjust. “Shit,” I mutter. My head is throbbing and there’s a powerful ring in my ears.
I got no clue where I am. The apartment is some high-end industrial themed penthouse. Brick accent walls and hanging lights. There’s a black fireplace that someone left on, making me sweat. It smells like weed and sex.
My vision stays murky, and I droop my neck. The hell did I take last night? I’m about to vomit. Why is that ringing so damn loud?
Someone moves against me, and my soul flees from my body. She’s a tall woman with jet black hair. I don’t remember her at all. She’s on the right side of me on an L-shaped beige couch. To my left is a man, my hand on his ass. He’s passed out on my thigh.
Not that it’s surprising. Seems like I had a regular night.
In front of me is a coffee table, half-burned joints are all over it. There’s needles and crushed up pills. Someone left a credit card next to the dust. A different woman walks across the room, pushing her hair up with her hands. She’s butt-naked.
The ringing picks up again.
“Ugh, someone stop that ringing.” The man rolls, shifting off of my thigh and covering his ears.
Not just in my head. I glance back at the coffee table. A phone vibrates, buzzing in circles against the metal. The contact fades, reappearing with a fresh call seconds later. It’s my phone.
It feels like I take a whole ten minutes to shrug the girl off of my side and reach for my phone, and another century to steady my finger enough to answer the call.
Brooks blares through the other end. “Lake, where the hell are you?”
“I don’t,” I slur. “I don’t know.”
“Oh fuck, Lake. I can’t do this shit today.”
I stumble to my feet, the entire room spinning around me. My thigh knocks into the couch corner, causing the spinning to reverse in the opposite direction. I put one foot in front of the other, struggling to discern my left from my right, and I collapse against a wall.
Something’s wrong. I can tell by his voice. “What’s wrong?”
What he says snaps me out of my haze. “River.”
“What about River?” I shut my eyes and keep blinking until I can see straight.
He starts sobbing. Right then, and it’s not gentle. It’s like he’s standing in front of me, tearing into pieces. There’s a heavy, splitting pain in his cries.
I force my feet to move as properly as possible, searching for the front door. “Brooks.”
“Brooks,” I repeat. “What’s going on?”
Almost fall down a staircase from how damn bright the lights are. I hug the wall and move down five flights of stairs. The whole time, Brooks is just crying. Not saying a word. Regardless of what I do to get his attention.
I push open the exit door, falling into the brick wall and sliding against it, shielding my eyes from the sun, before speaking into the line again. “What happened?”
“I tried to call you. I called you twelve fucking times,” he snaps. “She went on a trip this weekend.”
“Alright.” I struggle not to bite back at him. I want him to spit it out. Whatever he’s hiding is scaring the crap out of me.
He sucks in a breath. “Where are you?”
I close my eyes and take a second. “Brooks. What happened? Is River okay?”
He shushes his one dog, my favorite one, because it sounds like she’s chirping when she barks. She’s another rescue.
“Tell me where you are and I’ll tell you.”
“Are you—” I sigh, shutting my mouth, and searching to see if I recognize anything. I don’t, but I notice a street sign, so I squint at it. Main street. “Uh, I’m by a Dunkin Donuts on Main.”
He curses under his breath. “Okay. Are you sitting somewhere?”
“The sidewalk. Yeah. Why?”
He picks up his car keys and barely manages a goodbye to his dogs before shutting the door to his apartment. “River got into an accident, Lake.” His voice cracks again.
We’re quiet for a while. My heart rate becomes unsteady and restless. I can feel it pounding at my ribs. Each weep I hear from Brooks makes another thud in my chest, and I circle through a million bad ideas.
“Is she okay?”
He slams his car door. “She went rock climbing.”
Instead of squatting on my knees I drop to my butt. Wooziness and anxiety don’t mix well, and I swear I can feel my organs failing. I’m about to die under the blazing light and clear blue sky.
“Brooks, fucking spit it out,” I demand.
A wave of emotions explode out of him again. “I’m so sorry, Lake. I’m so fucking sorry.” He cracks. “She fell. Something happened, and she fell. She wasn’t anchored right.”
I shake my head. “No.”
He continues crying. I need him to tell me she’s okay.
“No. No. Brooks.” My hand tugs at my hair. “She’s okay, right?”
I’m ripping my hair out of my head now. He keeps wailing through the phone, driving to get me. I wanna tell him to stop, stay home, but the words aren’t leaving my mouth.
Our mother named us after bodies of water because she grew up by the ocean. She spent her early life surfing, but her dad was a drunk, and it capsized her. She fled down a similar path. It hurts to imagine part of her is still there, under layers of trauma and burned brain cells.
So she named the three of us after what brought her life; water. But Ma quit telling that story before I could walk. I know it through River. Everything I know is because of River.
“Brooks. Please tell me she’s okay.”
The last time I talked to my sister was when I made her cry. I wanted to protect her from me. Let her live her life outside of me and let her flow how she was meant to.
Maybe it was more selfish than that. I had her cut me off because I wanted to get high and not feel bad about doing it.
“Brooks. She’s okay? She’s hurt, but she’s okay?”
“No. She’s gone, Lake,” he weeps. “I’m so sorry. She’s gone.”
I break into heavy wails. People passing give me weird looks, and not a single one checks on me. Not that I deserve their sympathy.
“Just stay where you are, alright?” His voice is shaking. “I’ll be there soon.”
I return to reality when Deeogie licks my hand. He has whipped cream on his snout.
Brooks creeps out of the dining room, switching off the kitchen and living room lights. Another big smile on his face. Then Serenity comes from the kitchen. I only see her face, softly lit by the candles on my cake. Two big candles. A two and a five.
That’s why I feel so guilty today.
River never made it to twenty-five.
Angel and Brooks start singing Happy Birthday. Deeogie barks, and Brooks tries to be sneaky when he sprays more whipped cream in the dog’s mouth.
Angel’s in that beautiful little sundress. It’s swaying around her legs as she walks to me. It’s a light blue. I stay on the couch. Not embarrassed by the song, just happy she’s the one singing it. She keeps the cake steady in her hands, lowering onto her knees in front of me. “Happy birthday dear Lake.” She’s sparkling. “Happy birthday to you.”
Her lips part once more, whispering, “make a wish, honey.”
I stare into her forest eyes. Trying to subside this shit gurgling in my chest.
The chances of me ending up at Boston Hope—when I never ended up there earlier—by chance, this remarkable woman was working that night. She brought me back to life, as if the world would’ve lost its color if she didn’t.
Someone sent you to me, Serenity, and I think I know who it was.
I keep my eyes on hers as the burning sparks glow across her face. There’s a billion things I could wish for. A good one would be for this self-doubt and hurt to go away, but I don’t need that. I whisk the flames out of my candles, making my wish.
I wish for my angel to be happy.
***
Serenity comes into my room with a fuzzy blanket over her shoulders. After our first sleepover, she got into a habit of wandering into my bed each night with a blanket draped around her. I’ll admit I’m glad she came in here so soon tonight. Don’t wanna be by myself.
I shift at the side of my bed. “Thank you for a great birthday, Angel.”
She closes the door behind her. “What’s on your mind?”
Great question. Better question is what isn’t on my mind. Truthfully, I got no clue how to answer her, so I ask, “what do you mean?”
“You were distant for most of the party.” Her shoulders drop and she gives me a tiny smile. “Something is happening inside that handsome head of yours.”
Since I started rehab, more so when I took my relationship with Serenity seriously, I’ve tried to learn honesty. Not just being honest with her, but being honest with myself. Trying to understand where my thoughts come from. Bullshit like that. Plucking apart my head is dreary and sometimes I don’t think it’ll end, but not ignoring my thoughts sometimes helps.
“River never made it to twenty-five,” I confess.
My wife frowns, so I frown. She plops next to me and puts her blanket over my shoulders, and, as her favorite form of comfort, she takes my hand in hers.
“Do you want advice, or do you want me to stay quiet?” she asks.
“Advice or not, I just wanna hear you talking, Angel.”
“Okay. Well, that works.” She giggles. “I don’t know if I have good advice for you. My sister was a few years older than me. She made it to twenty-five, but not thirty.”
She keeps to herself for a moment. I can see her lips squish together as she gathers her words. Pretty. She’s so pretty, only gets prettier when she spends all her free time taking care of me.
“Think about it this way,” she begins. “River was a good person. She did a lot of fulfilling things from what you’ve told me. Didn’t she swim with dolphins once?”
I snort. “Yeah. She was part of an exchange program in college.”
River got to do crazy stuff overseas. She was never at her scholarship-funded dorm, or at home when she graduated. My sister didn’t breathe between hobbies and seeing the world.
Serenity snaps her fingers. “Exactly! She did so much, Lake. And it sucks that it ended so early, but she was living her best life before then.” Her smile brightens. “There’s many people that are old, and immobile, and they never did half of what she did.”
“That’s true. I guess.”
That bubble of guilt rides up my gut. I’m getting better at talking, but I don’t think I’ll ever get comfortable spilling fragments of my life. To strangers, it seems like I crave attention because I run off and stick myself just to get chased down by people that love me. It’s not true. But people do love me.
I take my arm and wrap it around her, pulling her closer. “You only mention your sister when I’m talking about mine, Angel.”
She sinks into me. “I promise you, I prefer it that way.”
I’m glad she can talk to me when she needs to. This communication crap we have going is settling the acid in my stomach.
She shimmies away from me, flying to her feet. “I still have a birthday present for you!”
I raise an eyebrow. “You got me three packs of brownies, new pants for work, and a cake I’m gonna finish eating while you’re sleeping.”
“Yes, but—” She stops mid-eye roll. “You are going to sleep tonight, Phoenix. Do not stay up eating a cake.”
She can’t stop me once she passes out.
All I do is hum. “What’s the gift, Angel?”
She puts her hands on her knees, leveling her face with mine, and kisses me. My fingers instantly tense, and I can’t help the way they reach forward to grab onto her hips, just to have her closer to me.
“That’s your birthday kiss.” Her eyelashes flutter, and she kisses me again. “That’s for the bookshelf.” Then another one. “That’s for surprising me with Deeogee.”
She lifts her hand and cups it around my chin. The kiss that follows isn’t a quick peck, it’s slow and careful. “That’s for being you, Phoenix. All you are and all you do.”
Everything calms. The twelve songs playing in my head scratch and fade away. Any thought trying to take up space in my brain disintegrates into nothing.
Silent and delicate.
I take my hands off of her hips and move them into her hair. I gently remove the hair tie from her scalp and pull strands away from her face. Her breath is soft and her body is steady, just letting me move. I secure her hair in a low bun, tucking the few loose hairs back behind her ears.
“Come here, Angel.”
She climbs onto my lap, hooking her arms around my neck, and her fingers are quick to travel into my hair. This time, with that pretty mouth only inches away from me, I’m the one to close in on her. I kiss her with every intention of keeping myself alive for her, like I depend on her lungs to give me the courage to breathe in the first place.
I do.
I smooth my hand on her cheek, bracing her soft skin, and Serenity’s tongue finds mine, causing both of us to groan into each other’s mouths.
“That’s my wife,” I rasp. “Look at how beautiful you are.”
Her hands sink into my head, and I hope she makes fresh scars to cover my old ones. I hope she keeps on giving me this life, because I want more of it. This. Her. I want my Serenity.
“Lake.” Her voice is a quiet muffle. “Does this still scare you?”
I pull back. My thumb grazes over her cheekbone, and right above are her big, worried eyes. Glistening even in my dark bedroom.
Terrifying. This terrifies me. Having it and not having it. All of it is scary. “Yes, Angel,” I tell her. “You are perfect.”
“Enough?” she asks.
My eyebrows pinch closer on my head. “More than enough, Serenity.”
She twirls my hair between her fingers. Her attention leaves my burning eyes, and she rests on her movements for a few moments. “Then you believe me when I say you’re more than enough, too?”
No, I don’t. “Sure, Angel. Yes.”
She smiles tenderly. “Happy birthday, Phoenix.”
She kisses me again, but before she pulls herself back, I hold the back of her head and keep her there. I hold our mouths together, even as I flip her onto my mattress and secure her wrists into one of my hands. I deepen that kiss until I know she’ll forget anything worrying her. Then I keep kissing her still, so I won’t remember anything worrying me.
My Angel. All I need.