Chapter 29 #2
Eamon spends most of the night in the back, probably repairing the unreliable icemaker.
After what seems like forever, they finally emerge and announce that he put in an order for a replacement.
It should arrive sometime next week. In the meantime, he encourages us to wear slip resistant footwear.
Ha! Look at who’s wishing they had rubber boots now!
The Morton salt girl on the navy-blue packaging wasn’t actually dressed for the rain, aside from the umbrella she held.
A lot of people think it's the Mandela Effect. They’re convinced the company simply took away the nostalgic imagery of a little girl in a yellow raincoat and boots.
In all actuality, she was always in a simple yellow dress and Mary Jane shoes.
The mind sometimes has a funny way of recalling something.
Having such convictions you saw it one way, only to be told it's completely different than what you swear it actually was.
My boots slosh through ankle high water, as I trudge past flooded, dark streets.
The rain hasn’t let up all day. As I approached my home, I notice a police cruiser parallel parked on the other side of my apartment.
It looks as if someone was in the dark car, just sitting there.
It’s hard to see who was inside the cruiser.
Was it a dummy, just to deter people from breaking the law?
Not wanting to be on the street a minute longer, I hurry past the vehicle and slip inside my building.
From my window, I watch as the cruiser's headlights turn on and pull out onto the street. Clearly, someone was inside. What’s the point of waiting around in dark vehicles?
Why leave now? Nothing law enforcement did made any sense.
“You're dripping all over the floor.” I turn from the window to find Andrea in the middle of the room; arms interlocked over her lime-green top, paired with ghost patterned sweatpants. I look down to see the small puddle I made, thanks to my soggy coat and shoes.
“Shit.”
She tosses a tea towel for me to dry the floor. Removing my outerwear, I hang it near the door, then collapse onto the couch. My head feels heavy with the chill returning; I reach for another blister pack of cold medicine. Throwing them back with a half drank water on the table.
“That was mine,” she quips, jutting out her hip, still standing some distance from me. “You should have stayed home. You don’t look so good.”
I drained the hijacked glass before facing her fully.
Perhaps it’s all the things that have come to light, my perpetually concerned best friend, or a bout of delirium from the bug I picked up, but I knew these pseudo truths needed to end.
No matter what the status of our friendship may be, things were getting more complicated as time went on. I need my friend back.
Nothing made sense anymore. Could Garron be my stalker? It’s clearly not Eamon… But how do they both know my brother? Worse, they both seem to know things I don’t. Things about Theo. I want to tell Andrea everything.
“Andrea, don’t freak out…”
Her eyes narrow, but she remains quiet, now leaning against the frame of her door for stability.
Good, she might need it. I steel my nerves by taking in a large breath and holding for ten seconds, just like previous therapists have conditioned me to do.
I remind myself to speak slowly. Be concise and don’t get overly emotional, right off the bat.
“I think someone killed Theo.”
Her once slim gaze widens to the size of dinner plates. I continue before I think better about it.
“All these weird things have been happening. First my ex-manager from Star Mart turned up dead the same weekend I quit. Then, some cop came by the apartment and started asking me questions about my time working there. Now, I’m involved with not one but TWO men!
” I take a moment to catch my breath, wishing the glass in front of me had more liquid.
Andrea’s mouth hangs open, but she remains silent.
I begin to speak faster this time, hoping to get it all out before I think better of it.
“Actually… I’m not too sure if either could be considered a relationship.
I also learned very recently that Eamon knew my brother!
Well, here’s the kicker… I found this earbud at the bar; it started playing music!
Even though I tried to get rid of it multiple times, it kept coming back!
Then, I realized I was being followed. It’s actually my stalker that sort of told me my brother didn’t kill himself and I needed to find something Theo left for me.
I can only assume that this thing I need to find will shed light on what actually happened to him.
” I may have left out some parts, and I’m glad I did.
The color from Andrea’s face has drained.
She stares blankly in my direction. My roommate is here, but not really all there.
I think I broke my friend. I was so used to her jumping in and trying to solve everything; her shock was almost cathartic.
Right now, I don't need to be told what to do. What I lack is the occasional freedom to unload the mental baggage I’m lugging around.
Her simply listening… hearing my words is more than enough, even if I did sound certifiable.
The air felt thicker somehow as all my truths wafted out in the open.
Taking air in felt taxing. As I waited for her to say anything, I panicked internally.
Would she retreat further away? More than she already has been?
“I need a drink,” she finally declares after long moments pass.
“Please… allow me.” I rise from the couch, zip past her to the kitchen, and locate the bottle opener from the drawer next to the stove.
Clutching the bottle of wine from Eamon, I pop the cork before pulling down two glasses from the cabinet.
I then proceed to pour the deep red liquid to the brim of BOTH glasses.
Shock and concern are plastered across her face. “Did I miss that you’re drinking now too?” she guesses, sitting upon the dining chair with a heavy thud.
I set both glasses onto the table and sat before the very vice I swore off three years ago.
I’ve never been into drugs, and I barely ever drank besides the occasional long island iced tea, but when my brother unexpectedly died…
I felt compelled to make a commitment. More to him than anyone else.
Even in death, I didn’t want to disappoint him.
I watched what Theo’s passing did to my parents…
Mom and Dad sold everything, moved away, and withdrew.
They mourned, but they did it behind closed doors.
It’s like my parents didn’t want to talk about it.
I may have been an adult in my first year of college, but I’ve never been more unsure of myself.
That year was a whirlwind, but the decisions I made were to keep me safe.
To survive another day. It seems almost silly that I did things back then to appease others.
No drugs or alcohol for my parents and brother.
Even staying with Brodi as long as I did was probably, so I didn’t disappoint him.
I’m so tired! So fed up with worrying how my fuck ups will be perceived. I’ve known it all along, somewhere deep down. He didn’t kill himself. It wasn’t an overdose and after these past few weeks, I would like a goddamn drink.
“Today seems like a good day to start,” I decisively retort. Causing the corner of her mouth to curve slightly upward. Rotating the steam of the glass between my thumb and pointer finger, I watch as the maroon liquid sloshes along the edges of the glass.
Andrea extends her arm over the table, ceasing the spin of my glass as she places her hand on mine. “Are you certain this is what you want?” Her tense body leans forward as if toying with the idea of snatching it from me.
“My brother didn’t overdose. I made that commitment, uninformed.
Someone took my brother from me. Now, I have a new promise.
Find out what happened to my brother.” I watch as her body visibly relaxes, and her hand withdraws to her side once more.
“I deserve a drink.” I say with steely nerves, ready for any disagreement she may be ready to throw my way.
She shakes her head and actually snickers. “No, it’s not about that. You just took cold medicine, you're not supposed to drink, nitwit.” There she is. There’s my overbearing best friend. I’ve missed her.
“Just one glass, then,” I agree.
We say nothing as we sit across from one another, periodically sipping from our oversized glasses.
The last time I was truly intoxicated was the summer after high school graduation.
Never a party girl by any means, however, it felt freeing to be out from the watchful eye of my family.
Mom and Dad became super paranoid about my safety as I became older.
If I wasn’t meeting with a therapist, I was to report my whereabouts, checking in often if I wasn’t with my brother or at school.
I sometimes wish I had other parents. Ones who weren’t so uptight.
If they just spent more time with us, they’d see that we were fine, but they worked so much.
It seemed stupid they always had to know where we were, but never tell us their agendas.
They were different when we were younger, more carefree, and happier.
My brother and I rarely saw them by the time my senior year in high school rolled around.
One shrink told me, stop holding back my emotions.
Let them pour out of you and free yourself of that weight.
Well, if I actually emanated what was going on in my head, they probably would have sent me to a facility with padded walls.
Little girls aren’t meant to have wild, depraved thoughts.