Chapter 8 #2
Emerson shook his head, sighing. “I know we joke and have fun or whatever it is we do when we talk here, but I’m being very honest and serious when I say I want you to reach out more.
What did I tell you that day at your apartment?
I mean, really, it’s been a week. I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well stop worrying that I will. ”
Yeah, I’d believe that when I saw it. He kept showing up here at the bakery, but how much would be too much?
It was natural, normal self-preservation.
If Emerson talked constantly about being there for me, and suddenly he wasn’t when I really needed him?
It would hurt. A lot. And I wasn’t sure I could handle any more hurt than I was already enduring.
“Well, tell me about work. Is today your third day, and then you’re off, or are you doing four? ”
“Very nice and subtle subject change there. Don’t think I didn’t notice. But to answer your question, this is my third, and I’ll be off for the next four. So, if you need me, I will be completely available. We could hang out or something.”
“I changed the subject. It isn’t fair to bring it back up.”
“I think it’s totally fair.”
“You’re wrong, Officer. How does it feel to be a lying police officer?”
He stared at me, saying “seriously?” without actually saying the words.
His eyebrows had dropped, and his gaze was piercing.
I could feel him looking through me, analyzing me from every angle.
“I wouldn’t know, now would I? Tell me what your plans look like for the next couple of days so I can invade them.
I’ll bring gifts of food to your apartment again if I need to. ”
Getting to know someone completely new was weird.
Emerson didn’t know me, or that I didn’t have any plans at all except checking in on my brothers constantly and looking for jobs hopelessly.
He had no idea that I spent most of my time doing absolutely nothing.
I didn’t have a hobby. I didn’t have a life.
All I had was social media, my family, and the world that kept passing me by.
“I see Crescent every day around this time. Otherwise, I’m pretty open. ”
“Hm. I was meaning to ask a while back, but I was wondering what you did for work. I don’t want to invade your work commitments, either.”
Ah, yes. The other failing point of my life I’d just reminisced about. “Don’t worry, there’s no work to invade on. I’m currently unemployed. I’ve looked at and applied to just about every job three towns over.”
“Shit, I’ve heard the market is really bad right now.”
“It’s the truth. I can’t seem to find anything.”
“Maybe I could help with that.”
Oh, and what, depend on someone else to help me find something as basic as a job? “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”
He shrugged and picked up his coffee cup just as the radio on his vest started to sound.
Some garbled words came through, and Emerson had frozen in motion to listen to them.
When they stopped, he shot up from the booth.
“I’ll see you around, Moon. Call me. Text me.
I mean it!” He said the last few words as he was leaving the bakery, the door shutting behind him just as he finished.
When Crescent finally came out, we talked while he ate his lunch.
I learned that Elio had officially sold his twelfth painting to someone local, this one a much bigger payout than the others.
I’d also learned that Mom and Dad were taking a trip to somewhere much nicer than Heaton Springs in their newly fixed RV, the same one I’d driven to Lindenbergh to help Elio and Crescent move six months ago.
I hadn’t been able to even look at that big hunk of useless metal since that night. It’d been such a pain in the ass to park, and I hadn’t even gotten to haul any furniture with it. All I’d loaded up with me that night were the souls and sins of two horrible, evil people.
The one thing I cared about most was any update on Star. I thought maybe she’d start to come around, now that it’d been a full week, and I’d sent several apology messages. But no, Crescent said she was still upset and wary of speaking to me.
And then the worst part happened. Crescent suddenly got all serious and somber, his eyes turning downward. “I found someone else I think could help you. She seems really, really nice, and she specializes in trauma.”
“She?”
“Yeah. Her name is Sabrina; she does in-person and telehealth visits. Her office isn’t too far from my house. I think you’d like her.”
I already didn’t like her on principle. Another therapist—someone who would listen to my problems and pretend like she understood when, really, she couldn’t. There was no way in hell she could. “I’m alright, thanks.”
“Well, Mark recommended her, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”
“You’ve talked to your therapist about me?”
Crescent shook his head, then paused. “I mean, yeah, I’ve mentioned being worried about you and stuff.
But I asked him for recommendations in the area if he had any.
I didn’t specify it was for you or anything.
He knows I’ve been checking out some local people in case the telehealth stops working for me. ”
He couldn’t understand. How could he? Crescent didn’t understand that a therapist would be just another person who knew exactly how fucked up I was in the head, and I hated that.
I hated when people knew even a little bit of how my brain worked.
So far, the only person in the entire world who knew just how deep my mind could go was myself. I planned to keep it that way, too.
Shaking my head, I plastered on a smile. “I’m fine, but thank you.”
“You’re not, though. Remember how you pestered me about not being okay, and you guys were worrying about me?”
“That was different, Cres. You weren’t talking to any of us. I talk to you guys every day.”
“It isn’t different, actually. Yeah, you show your face, but it isn’t the same one from six months ago.
Which is completely understandable. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to think that’s an issue so far.
I know you, Moon. You’re my brother. Do you seriously think I don’t notice when you’re not doing okay? ”
That made it so much worse. “No, I don’t think you notice when I’m not doing okay because I am doing okay. You don’t know what’s going on inside of my brain—”
“Exactly.” He cut me off. “I don’t, because you don’t share anything with me, but I know your energy. I know your routine. I know how you act, and this isn’t it. I may not know what’s going on in your brain, but I know you. And that’s that. End of story.”
“Jesus Christ, Cres. There is no story! I’m fine. I said I’m fine, and I meant it. I’m done with this conversation. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I stood from the booth, leaving my cup behind.
My eyes had started to burn, and I knew I had limited time to get the fuck out of there before my little brother saw me cry.
I didn’t need that. He didn’t need that.
Nobody needed that. So, I ran. I ran out of the bakery and onto my bike, getting on it as fast as I could, and riding to my apartment.
The world was a blur at that point, nothing truly making sense to my eyes or brain.
I just knew I needed to get home, get my shit together, and go back to making sure I acted like nothing was wrong.
Nothing was wrong. I was fine. I was just being dramatic.
I had everything in control, and the world would keep going on without me, and everything was perfectly fine.
Or so I told myself the whole time, I was dragging my bike up the stairs and into my apartment, my eyes still burning with tears I refused to let go of.
The moment my front door shut, my back was against the wall.
Star hated me. My facade was falling. Crescent had seen through it, Emerson had seen through it, and I knew Elio had also seen through it.
Mom and Dad definitely saw through it, which was why I kept avoiding them like the plague.
I still didn’t have a job, and I’d lost my previous one because I couldn’t get my shit together. I was failing.
I was a failure.
All this time and effort I’d put into pushing all the bad memories so far out of my mind I could hardly believe they existed, and for what?
It obviously hadn’t made a difference. Trudging along to my bedroom, I let my head hang low.
I didn’t have the energy to force it back up.
I found my bed and crawled under the blankets, pulling them up under my chin as I curled into a fetal position.
I made myself as small as possible in contrast to how vast the universe felt, and the weight it’d left on my chest.
When I closed my eyes, a single tear rolled down my cheek.
The memory of walking into Crescent’s apartment, only to see Jude hit Elio, was one that haunted me when I was asleep and when I was awake.
It didn’t seem to matter. Every time I thought about it, I thought of something new from the past. The bruises around Elio’s wrists when he was just a teenager that I’d assumed were from his parents, even though I knew he hadn’t spoken to them in a long time.
The purple circles under his eyes, as if he never slept anymore, though I never asked him about it.
How he started hanging out with Jude more than he hung out with Crescent, his best friend and brother by choice, since they were in elementary school.
There were so many signs—signs I was intimately familiar with, yet failed to notice.
If I had noticed back then, like I was supposed to, none of us would be in this mess now.
Maybe Elio and Crescent would’ve gotten together years ago if someone had intervened and rescued Elio from years of abuse.
Abuse I understood. Abuse I’d never forget.
The shadows cradled me as I sobbed into the mattress like the pathetic human I was for so long. Night had fallen, and I couldn’t fix anything. There was nothing left for me to fix. I’d ruined it all. I’d ruined everything I’d ever touched. Moon Miller, the destroyer.
My chest hurt, the ache throbbing deep within the confines of my heart.
The cage surrounding it went cold, sending a chill deeper and deeper until my entire body was covered in goosebumps.
I guessed it was my punishment after all this time.
It hurt so fucking bad, I could hardly breathe in between the sobs.
I was shaking with them, making the bed shake with me.
I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t beg for forgiveness.
I couldn’t get the blood off my skin, or the darkness out of my soul—I couldn’t find the light, and I was desperate for all of it to stop.
I needed it to stop. I needed to slice myself open and focus on the pain on the outside, rather than the pain on the inside.
But I couldn’t bring myself to get up out of bed. It was so dark. So, so dark.
I needed the light. I needed help crawling out from under the soul-crushing sadness that filled every inch of the husk I used to know as my body.
With every ounce of strength I could find, I grabbed my phone and curled deeper into the blankets I’d wrapped around myself. I found the contact I needed and pressed dial.
“Hello?”
I tried to soften my sobs for long enough to speak, talking through sad, broken words. “Are you off work?”
Emerson sounded serious, his voice even enough for both of us. “Yeah, I just got home not too long ago. Are you okay?”
“No. No, I’m not okay.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in just a few minutes, okay? Just hang tight, and I’ll be right there.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
I hoped he kept his promise. I hoped he wasn’t lying to me.
I hoped he came fast enough. I hoped, and hoped, and hoped even as my mouth fell open, nothing but muffled yells coming out, drowning into the fabric of my pillow.
I needed the light, or else I’d get stuck.
It was one of those things that I didn’t need any past evidence to prove it.
Deep in my heart, I just knew. I just knew that I’d be helpless, and there wouldn’t be a thing anyone could do at that point.