Chapter 18
Aliena
I struggle to get the door open with the bags hanging from my arms. I try to push down the handle with my elbow and nearly cry out in relief when I find it unlocked. Thank god. I’m sure I would have dropped all the groceries I bought if I had to get out the key I was given the last time I visited my dad.
“Linda? Is that you?” my dad calls from upstairs, presumably his room. He hasn’t gotten much better in the last two weeks since he told me about what happened and I’m sure our suspicion that my mother relapsed is true. I didn’t find any drugs when I looked through her things, but I see the signs. Dad sees them too.
It’s been a stressful time and it’s only getting worse now that Christmas is around the corner. I never liked Christmas, even as a child, but since I spent the last few years with Lily and her family, I found that it could be fun. Sadly, I don’t think I’ll get to spend the holidays with my friend this year. My parents need me.
I finally set my full bags down in the kitchen and then yell back, “Just me, dad.” I’m embarrassingly out of breath. I really need to do some cardio .
I can hear my dad make his way downstairs, much slower than he usually would. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He should have been better by now. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been able to reduce the stress he’s confronted with considering his unsuccessful job hunt and the whole situation with my mom. Sure, I’ve been trying to help but there’s only so much I can do.
Between taking care of my parents and working at the nursing home, I haven’t even had time to see my friends. I miss them and to say I need a break from looking after others would be an understatement. I can’t even remember the last time I took a bath and had some good old me-time.
“Hello, Aly. It’s good to see you,” my dad greets me with an awkward hand on my back as I start putting all the groceries away. I turn, trying hard to hide my discomfort at the sight of his pale face. God, he looks like shit. I hate seeing him like this, it makes him appear so old.
“Hey, dad. Where’s mom?” I ask. She should have come home from work about two hours ago. For heaven’s sake, we’re only a week from Christmas now, it’s cold outside. I hate to think that she’s out somewhere, doing who-knows-what to her body.
“I don’t know, Honey. I’m sure she’ll be home soon,” he tries to reassure me. It doesn’t work. I remember the old times when mom would still vanish for days and we didn’t know where she was. Even the thought of those times has a part of shriveling up inside. I never thought I’d have to go through all that again.
One of my biggest worries is that mom lost her job. She barely made minimum wage as it was but now that dad no longer has an income, it’s vital to get whatever we can. I’m already covering their expenses for food but I’m not sure how much more of my own money I can spare. If all their bills come on top of mine, we’ll all be in debt.
If things keep getting worse, I’m afraid I’ll have to move out of my apartment and move back in with them but I’ll do anything possible to prevent that. I can’t live here again. There are too many memories, and this will never feel like home, I know it.
Things are a mess.
“All right. Well, I’ll start working on dinner now, okay? You should rest some more.”
“I’m fine, honey,” my dad insists even though his shoulders are hunched. It’s as if the effort to just keep standing is exhausting him.
“Dad, you don’t look too fine. Have you been taking your pills?” I ask.
He shakes his head and tries to smile softly. “I must’ve misplaced them,” he tries to lie. What he really means is that my mother stole the rest of them. My stomach is in knots but I try to sound as normal as possible as I speak.
“Dad, I’m no longer a child. Please, stop trying to lie to me. We have to talk about it and find a solution. We can’t let her go on like this.”
He sighs and just like that, he looks another ten years older. “I don’t know what to tell you, honey. I feel like I failed you. Again. I don’t know how things escalated so quickly with your mother. She was sober for years. I didn’t know having the pills around would trigger her. This is my fault,” he says. A lump forms in my throat.
“Please, don’t blame yourself.” Not when I should have been around more. It’s not his fault mom relapsed. “Maybe it would help if we talked about it with her?” I propose .
“I don’t think that’s a great idea. The first time, whenever I tried talking to her about her problem, she just got defensive and left for days. I’m afraid to risk it. It’s so cold out now, she could die out there. Especially with all that venom in her veins,” he explains. I nod slowly, turning toward the stove so my dad can’t see my expression anymore.
I’m so tired, I don’t think I could mask my despair at the whole situation.
“What about professional help?” I ask, even though I know we could never afford it. If that is what it takes, I’ll just have to find a way.
“I think that might be even worse than if we tried talking to her. The last time, she decided things had to change on her own. Maybe she’ll do it again.”
Hell, how did we get here? I don’t understand how my mother could do it. How could she throw everything she worked so hard for away? If there was anything worse than the time she was always high, it was her withdrawal. There were times when she would scream and cry in pain all night, she often got sick and could barely keep down any meals, and she’d sweat excessively.
It was hard to witness, to say the least. I was already working at the nursing home by then so I must’ve been around sixteen.
I wish I knew what made her change back then but it’s not like I can ask. Maybe my dad’s right and all I can do is try to get through this and hope my mom will pull herself together soon. Maybe it’s not too late for her to go back to how things were again.
I start preparing the healthy meal I went shopping for, letting my tears stream down my face now that my dad is over in the living room. If he asks about it, it was the onions’ fault. He doesn’t need to worry about me on top of everything else.
I’m just about to plate the food for my dad and me when the front door opens and my mom staggers inside, beaming in a dazed way. My stomach drops further at the sight of her, my chest growing cold. I meet her in the corridor before she can reach the living room where my dad is dozing.
Her clothes look completely disheveled and the fly of her pants are open. God, what is she doing to get her next fix? I want to scream.
“Hang on, mom. Let me just fix your clothes,” I tell her, speaking in the same voice I use on my confused patients without even noticing. Only that I am whispering now so I don’t wake my dad.
“Oh, you’re sweet. I’m so happy you’re always here now,” my mom tells me, her eyes wide and pupils constricted. My hands start shaking as I close the buttons on her blouse. This is all wrong. The last time I saw her, her pupils were dilated. Now they’re constricted. It’s not just one drug she’s taking. She doesn’t even care what it is.
I have to painfully swallow the lump in my throat before I can reply. “I made dinner. Just sit down at the table, okay?”
“I don’t think I’m hungry,” she protests weakly, but I just shoo her toward the table. I can’t argue about her eating nothing anymore. I just can’t.
On my way back to the kitchen, I gently wake dad. “Hey, wake up. Dinner’s ready,” I tell him. He opens his eyes and sits up, smiling weakly. “Oh, and mom’s back,” I add, trying to sound as cheery as I possibly can .
He lights up even more at that. “That’s a relief.” I wonder if he would say that if he saw her before I fixed her clothes. Does he know what she’s doing? Has she come home similarly the first time around? When I wasn’t there to shield my dad from it? My stomach twists at the thought.
I go to the kitchen and start plating, though my hands are still shaking, and there are tears in my eyes that try to make my job a little harder. When my mind wanders for a second and I’m too distracted to focus, I blindly reach for another plate behind the pan I just took out of the oven.
The underside of my arm presses against the hot steel and I quickly pull it away, biting my tongue to keep from crying out as I clutch the burned limb to my chest. More tears rush to my eyes and this time, I’m unable to hold them back. It’s too much. It’s all just so much too much.
I drop to the floor, crying as silently as possible as I try to take even breaths. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me and there’s an iron fist squeezing my lungs. I cover my mouth with a tight hand to muffle the sound of my sobs.
There’s no need for my parents to see me like this. I doubt my mother would care much right now, but my dad would worry about me. I can’t make this all about me.
It takes me several long minutes to calm down and breathe somewhat evenly again. Minutes in which it felt like I was dying, but this is nothing new. I had small little attacks like this since I was a kid. It’s nothing. I brush it off with one last staggering breath and get to my feet.
When I finally emerge from the kitchen with the finished plates, my long burn hidden underneath my sleeve, my parents are conversing casually. I’m glad they didn’t notice how long I took to bring them their food .
“There you go,” I say as I return a second time carrying my own plate. My dad smiles at me and immediately digs in, humming as he swallows the first bite.
“That’s delicious, honey. Thank you so much,” he says.
“Your father is right. It’s so good to have you back,” my mom adds, and I struggle to keep my small smile in place. Maybe we wouldn’t be here if I had only visited more often. Maybe my dad would’ve never had that heart attack and my mom wouldn’t have felt the need to relapse.
Throughout dinner, I barely say I word. It’s all I can do to keep forcing myself to eat. Luckily, my mother is in a talkative mood, so she and my dad don’t pay me much attention. Still, I see the way she rubs the inside of her elbow through her blouse and picks at her skin. It makes me sick to my stomach.
As soon as everyone swallowed their last bites, I get up from the table and hastily carry all the dirty dishes into the kitchen. I clean everything up quickly and transfer the leftovers into appropriate containers. Then I meet my parents in the living room again, eager to get out of here and pass out in my bed.
“So, you guys. The fridge is filled to the brim, and you have leftovers to get you at least through tomorrow. I’ll try to come over again soon. Call me if you need anything, okay?” I offer, already inching toward the exit.
“Of course, have a good night, honey,” my dad tells me. When I smile at him, my mother gets to her feet and throws her arms around me. I nearly pull a face at how she smells. A mix of smoke and dirt.
“Thank you for dinner, my dear. I’ll see you soon, yes?” she asks, keeping me at arm’s length .
I nod, smiling forcibly. “Sure, mom. Goodnight,” I tell her, pulling away. Then I go to the door and put on my shoes, so happy to finally get out of here that I nearly can’t tie the laces.
Just before I can leave, something happens though. The lights all turn off at the same time, leaving the entire house in darkness. For a second, everything is quiet, and I freeze where I am. Then, my mother starts screaming out of nowhere and I rush back into the living room, wearing one shoe.
I hurriedly turn on the flashlight of my phone to see my mom sitting on the floor with her back to the wall and her hands around her ears. Her eyes are flicking around the darkness almost frantically and she keeps screaming.
Shit, I forgot how paranoid she could get. I head toward her to try and calm her but my father’s hand on my shoulder stops me. I look at him and he shakes his head. “You’ve done enough for today, honey. I got this,” he tries to tell me.
But he looks so tired that leaving now is not an option. “What happened with the light?” I ask.
“Your mother usually takes care of the bills. I didn’t even think that she might forget to pay. They shut off the electricity,” he replies. With every word he speaks, the pressure in my chest builds.
“They can’t do that. You can’t be here without lights. Shit, and I just stocked up the fridge. The food will go bad. Give me the company’s number, I’ll call them,” I insist, trying to keep my panic in check.
My father doesn’t fight me on it and gives me their number. I disappear into another room to get away from my mother’s yelling and call them. Luckily, they pick up. I tell them my name and explain that the electricity here just went out. Then I ask them if I can pay instantly and get the power back now.
“I’m sorry, miss. We can only grant you the services after we received the payment,” they tell me. Tears of frustration clog my throat.
“No, you don’t understand. I have food in the fridge that will go bad. Please, I have a lot going on right now and I must have missed the bills you sent me. Please, I just spent the majority of my money on this food, I can’t let it go to waste.
“You will receive my payment by tomorrow morning. Just shut the power back on until tomorrow. If you don’t have my money until then, you can shut it off again. Please.” I beg them, not giving a single fuck about how pathetic I sound.
The person on the other side sighs. “Okay, miss, I’ll see what I can do but if the payment is still open tomorrow, there’s nothing I can do to help you,” she tells me. I thank her too many times until she finally ends the call.
Then I fall back to the ground, sobbing openly in the privacy of this dark room. It’s only when the lights turn on again and my mother’s screams cut off that I can breathe easily again. Good, all I need to do now is get home and wait for the company to mail me the bill. And somehow manage to pay it on top of my own bills that will come in next week.
Then, I’ll sleep. I really, really hope I can sleep tonight.
I survived Christmas at my parent’s place. I somehow managed to pay all the bills of the month. The only thing I completely forgot about was my best friend’s birthday .
Apart from exchanging a few messages with Andrew, I didn’t contribute anything to the party that will be thrown for her tonight. Not a single thing. The two of us won’t be spending all day together and I didn’t even get her a present.
Christ, I’m the worst friend on this planet. First, I don’t see her for three weeks. Then, I ditch her on Christmas and now I show up at her party without a present.
It doesn’t even end there. Now, with three hours left until I have to be in a room full of strangers and my few friends, I’m crying about the fact that I have to go at all. I made the mistake of looking in the mirror twenty minutes ago and at the sight of the dark, dark circles under my eyes and the horror that is my unwashed hair, I just broke down. I don’t even recognize myself anymore.
I have no energy to socialize, and I’m scared I’ll ruin Lily’s party. I’m a fucking mess.
After another ten minutes of wallowing in self-pity, I force myself to take a shower as I listen to my usual party preparation music. It doesn’t do the trick. I feel just as discouraged when I step out of the shower.
Still, I force myself to get ready. It takes a while but, in the end, I look presentable, at least. Almost like I usually would. At least my dark circles are covered so no one will ask me about them. I’m a sensitive mess at the moment, and I’m scared that any reference that might remind me of my current situation will make me break down.
I just hope tonight will serve as a distraction.
When my doorbell rings and I come face to face with a radiant Lily, I feel like a fraud. Still, I pull her into a tight hug and wish her a happy birthday. “I’m sorry I didn’t organize more or got you a present. I’m begging for a delay,” I try to joke, even though I don’t find my failure funny in the least. Of course, my best friend isn’t aware of the details of what’s going on with my parents. It’s the one courtesy I offered her since the mess exploded in my face, but she doesn’t know that.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. You’ll never guess what Andrew got me!” she exclaims, thrusting forwards her arm to present me with a brilliant bracelet.
“Jesus Christ, tell me those aren’t diamonds,” I say, forgetting myself momentarily and sounding almost disgusted. I catch myself quickly and force my most convincing smile back into place. “He’s spoiling you!” I add.
Lily is undeterred. “I know. He’s horrible,” she jokes. Meanwhile, I’m still staring at the bracelet as bitterness poisons my veins. What a waste of money. It must be nice to have such a fortune to spare on a trinket.
Hating where my thoughts are headed, I force myself to set my mind straight and remember that this is my best friend. I should be happy that she has a boyfriend that does so much for her. Sure, materialistic things might not carry much value to me, but one of Lily’s love languages is exchanging gifts. It makes my lack thereof so much worse.
“Okay, let’s go down now. The boys are waiting,” she says and starts pulling me away. I only barely manage to lock my door before she’s rushing toward the elevator with me in tow.
“Where are we going, by the way?” I ask her on our way down.
She frowns at that. “You don’t know? Andrew told me you helped organize it all,” she says.
“I did, but more when it comes to the details,” I try to cover up quickly. It’s not really untrue since I did give Andrew some tips about decoration and cake and such, all the things a lifelong best friend knows better than a partner ever could.
“Okay, then. Well, he actually rented a clubhouse near campus. I think half the school will be there,” she tells me excitedly.
“Oh, and they’re all coming just for you,” I tease. She laughs and shoves me.
“Sure they are.” Then we’re jogging towards the car. Apparently, she really can’t wait to get going.
I recognize Sebastian’s car and for the first time in weeks, my heart starts racing in anticipation rather than panic. Mattheo and Andrew wait for us outside and both greet me with a hug. When I round the car to get in the back behind the driver’s seat, I’m surprised to find the owner of the car leaning against its side rather than sitting inside.
My heart trips over itself and I nearly miss a step. He turns to me fully with a lazy smile on his face, taking me in from head to toe in a way that has my skin heating. When he’s done, he steps closer and says, “Hey, friend .”
He pulls me into a hug and I lose my voice to reply. I just stand there, hugging him back weakly as I soak up the bliss of the innocent contact. Shit, whoever said magic didn’t exist has never received a good hug.
Someone slapping the car’s hull loudly interrupts the moment and Sebastian pulls away. “Come on, let’s get going!” Andrew urges.
“Touch my car again and I’ll break your hand,” Sebastian retorts even as he opens the door for me. Once I’m seated inside, he gets behind the wheel and starts driving.
“So, Aliena, what have you been up to? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Mattheo pouts. I smile at him, glad when that motion doesn’t hurt, at least .
“I’ve been swamped with work, sorry. I wouldn’t dare miss my girl’s birthday though. Twenty-three, you old cow. I remember when you got your first training bra,” I tease her. She glares playfully.
“Shush now, we didn’t all start growing boobs at twelve!” She laughs and conspiratorially adds, “And stopped at fourteen.”
“Ey! Below the belt!” I warn her, just joking.
“Wait, what?” Mattheo interjects. Lily is happy to elaborate.
“Our darling Aliena might’ve thought she was growing boobs early, she didn’t think they’d stop doing so so soon though. She had to take the pill to get those tatas we all see and adore now.”
I groan as the guys all burst out laughing. “Some friend I have,” I mumble though I feel better than I have in weeks. I’m glad I came tonight.
When we finally arrive at the destination, my enthusiasm dims a little again. There’s already music playing inside and the place looks amazing. Extravagant and elegant in an effortless way. It’s so Lily, so much more so than I could ever have achieved. It feels like a slap in the face and my earlier disappointment and shame return.
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, my friends enter the party. I follow them and try not to look like a beaten dog as I do.
Mattheo is off almost immediately, being swept up by the people on the swimming team. Lily and Andrew make their rounds saying hi to everyone. I try to disappear on one of the couches in a dark corner, feeling more like a jerk the more I feel bad for myself .
I don’t know what’s happening to me. Others are dancing but I can’t seem to bring myself to join them. I don’t feel like being here at all anymore. I’m tired and it feels like the short interactions I had in the car with my friends drained me completely.
I hate what’s happening to me, but I can’t seem to stop it.
I’m torn from my thoughts when someone joins me on the couch. I look to my right to see Sebastian getting comfortable. When he’s happy with his position, he turns to me.
“No dancing tonight?” he asks throwing his arm over the back of the couch so it’s close to my face. Before I can question it, he starts playing with the ends of my ponytail.
I try to muster a weak smile. “I don’t know. I’m still waiting for the music to call for me, I guess,” I reply lightly.
He frowns a little, studying me more closely. As he does so, it feels like he can see right through me and I start feeling nervous. “Rough week?” he finally asks. I just nod, which he seems rather unhappy with. Before he can keep questioning me, I speak up.
“How come you’re not saying hi to all your classmates? Don’t you have friends?” I ask as teasingly as possible. It’s excruciatingly hard to keep up the facade under his scrutiny but for now, he doesn’t comment on it.
“You know my friends and I already said hello to all of them,” he replies flatly. I smile at that. Truly.
“I am so not surprised. If you don’t like any of these people, why do you host so many parties?”
“Because I can. I have the best location for it and it gets me a good reputation. It’s not like I have to clean up the mess myself afterward and I get to hang out with my friends in the private room,” he explains. I huff softly at that explanation.
He arches a brow. “Is there a problem? The last time I checked, you enjoyed my parties greatly.”
“Yeah, they’re all right,” I play it down.
“All right, huh?” he retorts with a grin, tugging at a strand of my hair. I swat his hand away.
“Hey, that took me twenty minutes to get right. Don’t mess with it,” I protest and he raises his hands in mock surrender.
“Aye aye, ma’am. No touching the ponytail. Message received.”
“God, you’re an idiot,” I scoff, even as my lips tip up without my head’s command.
“As long as I’m the idiot that manages to make you smile, I’m fine with that title.” He leans back. Again, my heart does something funny in my chest. He keeps watching me closely. “Will you tell me what’s up, Aliena?”
I swallow thickly and try to keep my smile in place. “What makes you think something is up?” I ask. He resumes playing with my hair softly.
“You’re not dancing, you aren’t socializing, and you were uncharacteristically quiet in the car. Plus, there’s something off about your eyes.”
The last part startles a laugh out of me. It’s the second time he mentioned my eyes. I repeat, “My eyes? What’s wrong with them?”
“I don’t know. There’s just something missing. Some spark, or something, if you want me to be cheesy about it. They just look sad,” he observes slowly and every word presses onto my heart like a brick. Great, not only am I losing myself but it’s clear to everyone around. I can’t even act happy right.
I just shrug and avert my eyes, which apparently reveal way too much, while a heavy lump clogs my throat. Shit, I wish I had something to drink to banish the uncomfortable feeling.
Instead of another tug on my hair, two fingers encircle my chin and tilt me toward his handsome face. Even now with that preoccupied line between his furrowed brows, he’s fucking beautiful.
“Hey, no, come on. Talk to me. What the hell just put that look on your face?” he demands softly. I shrug again, feeling those damned tears coming.
I swallow thickly and do my best to reply. “Just tired,” I try to say but to my horror, my voice breaks. Just like that, the dam is broken, and my tears start falling. I’m mortified and shove his hand from my face to turn away from him. He shouldn’t see me fall apart. I can’t believe this is happening here.
“Aliena,” he says softly, speaking to my back. I ignore him, trying to stifle my sniffles and barely trusting myself to breathe without sobbing. Sebastian curses and I can feel the couch dip as he gets up from it. Before I can even think that he’s leaving, he’s standing in front of me, hugging me as well as it’s possible.
I stiffen momentarily, unsure of what to do. I don’t remember the last time I cried in front of another person, not to mention was comforted by someone. It feels strange and it only seems to make me want to cry more. It hurts. Breathing hurts, crying hurts, and this hug somehow hurts too.
After a few minutes of him holding me while my arms stay limp at my side, he crouches down so his face is right in front of me and cups my cheeks. “Let’s go outside for a second, yeah? We can talk in my car,” he proposes but I’m already shaking my head, wiping at my face.
“No. No, this is Lily’s party. God, what is wrong with me? I’m fine, really.” It’s always the same with me. Why do I insist on making everything about myself? I’m such a fucking attention seeker.
“Aliena, you are not fine. Whatever is going on is taking its toll on you and it shows.” He sighs, looking unsure. “Sweetheart, I didn’t want to say anything but is it possible you lost weight? Like, a lot in the short time we haven’t seen each other? Is that what’s going on?”
The more he speaks, the more embarrassed I become. Have I lost weight? I haven’t noticed but it’s not unlikely with how little I’ve been eating. What can I say, lunch is expensive and I have to save money where I can.
Before I can start crying more, I grit my teeth and force my voice to be pure steel as I snap at him. “Of course not! I don’t have an eating disorder, Sebastian, I’ve just been busy. Some of us have to work, you know. Now, I’d be very happy if you could just keep your observations about my eyes and my body to yourself. I said I’m fine. Whether you believe me or not is up to you but at least take the hint and stop pushing. We’re friends but that doesn’t mean I owe you an explanation.”
At first, he looks taken aback by my outburst but finally, he nods. “Okay, I’ll let it go for now. But if you go MIA again or if I feel like you’re getting worse, don’t think I won’t try to talk to you again. I’m worried about you,” he insists, and my heart breaks and melts at the same time. Who would have thought Sebastian could be so compassionate?
“Noted and appreciated. I think it’s time I get a drink now. Wanna help me look for the birthday girl?” I ask him. Surprisingly enough, I seem to be feeling a little better now that I’m done with that little meltdown.
“Sure.”