TWENTY-ONE
Gigi
Every minute turns into every hour. Every hour morphs into every day. Every week. Every month. And so on.
Nowadays I find myself not remembering what I did the day before, let alone last week. Every day is just the same. I watch the sun pour through the bedroom windows for hours until it starts to set again, only leaving my room to pee and eat.
Mia is concerned for me. I’ve been staying at her parents’ house, and she hasn’t said it outright, but I know she’s worried. She knocked on my door every morning and every night like clockwork for the first few weeks, asking if I needed anything. After my hundredth “no” she stopped offering her help.
Greg has even tried visiting, but every time, I shout through the door for him to leave me alone, chucking the duvet back over my head to remain in my protective bubble.
I’d stay here forever if I could.
I’m not even sure how long it’s been since the events with Harry unfolded. When I last counted it had been a few weeks, but it’s been at least double that now.
The one time Mia managed to drag me out of the house to the coffee shop I drowned myself in an oversized hoodie, hiding from the sun. It’s safe to say she hasn’t taken me outside since.
The more I come to terms with it … I’m not even mad about the fact Harry was in debt.
And do I think he had something to do with Jack’s death?
I …
I don’t know.
Do I think he outright killed him? No!
Do I think there’s more to the story? Absolutely.
I’m pissed off with the lies. I gave him every opportunity to come clean, and he didn’t. End of story.
And what makes things even worse: he hasn’t called. I’m not sure what I expected. Grovelling, maybe. An apology. But nada.
Truth be told, he’s acting pretty guilty.
I haven’t told Mia the extent of my troubles. From her perspective, Harry was just ignoring me and we broke up – not that we were ever really together in the first place.
What a fucked-up situation.
“What, he hasn’t contacted you at all?” she asks now, her voice coming across muffled through the duvet.
“Not once.”
“Do you want me to call Andy? He can talk—”
“No!” I shout, pulling the sheets off my head fast.
I must’ve been seconds away from suffocating in the bundle, because taking a breath feels so satisfying. I imagine this is the equivalent of being free to breathe after holding your breath underwater for a long time.
Mia dry-heaves. “Honey, you smell awful.”
“I feel it,” I say, bringing my knees to my chest.
She leans forwards and cups her palm round my knee. “Tell me what happened. ”
So I do.
I tell her everything – well, almost everything. I tell her about Harry being in debt with some man. I tell her how he kept his cards hidden when I asked him to explain himself. I tell her about Jack – about Harry knowing him – but I exclude all the criminal lingo. I also fail to mention he said he’d keep an eye out for me.
So, all in all … I tell her half the story.
“Wait.” She holds up her hand. “So you were right. His death really was covered up.”
I shrug.
I haven’t really lingered on that detail. It seems insignificant now, which is weird beyond belief since I’ve dedicated nearly half a decade of my life to uncovering the truth.
“This calls for a celebration!” Mia declares, holding up a finger.
Is she joking?
I stare at her as if she’s mad, watching her bare feet run through my open door and down the stairs. I make out the sound of her opening and then closing the fridge. And then glassware. She runs back in with some sort of alcoholic liquid, pouring herself a glass.
“You only bought one glass,” I state.
She nods and takes a sip. “You need the bottle, my love.”
Only Mia would think learning the truth about my brother’s death is cause for celebration. Still, whatever plan she had to improve my spirits clearly worked. Our talk has definitely taken my mind off things – even if for a fleeting moment.
As thoughts of Harry start to creep in, I snatch the bottle’s neck and take a swig. The sting against my throat makes my eyes water.
“Let’s go out.”
I shake my head. “I can’t— ”
“Don’t start with that again. Let’s go out … like old times.”
After much reluctance I finally obey.
And I find out one thing …
Getting out of the house really helps.