but Nathan slides the earbud in smoothly. He hits play on his phone, and there’s this really haunting sound, almost like a horror movie. Then this acoustic guitar kicks in, and a guy starts singing with a voice that sounds just as sad.
“Who is this?”
“Troye Sivan.” Nathan chuckles.
It’s nice, but not what I’d expect from Nathan. This seems too somber, but the closer I listen to the lyrics, the happier they seem.
I close my eyes. I don’t want to, but my eyelids are getting too heavy to keep open. “Nathan?”
“Hmmm?”
“I’m glad we met.”
“Me too, Ben.”
“You’ve made these last few months suck less.”
“Same here.”
“I’m sorry.”
Nathan’s fingers brush my neck. “It’s not your fault, Ben. None of it is.”
My eyes finally close, and I let myself cry.
I don’t get out of bed much over the next few days. I just lie there under the sheets, my fingers tracing the faded crescent shapes on my wrist Mom left behind. They still sting if I press hard enough.
My phone keeps vibrating from its spot on the nightstand, the lock screen filled with unanswered messages. I stare at the way the screen lights up, Nathan’s name flashing again and again. I pick up the phone and stare at the texts. Every single one he’s sent over since Saturday morning.
I stayed in his bed, stayed with him, as long as I could. And if I had my choice, I wouldn’t have left. But I knew if I didn’t go home, Hannah would probably have filed a missing person’s report or something. When I came back, she and Thomas were home. They both tried to talk to me, but the second I saw Hannah, I got angry all over again.
I went up to my room, slamming the door behind me. And I hardly saw them for the rest of the weekend. They made sure I ate, and that was it, I didn’t leave a lot of room for them to stick around and talk to me.
At least they didn’t make me go to school today.
Nathan: Good afternoon!
Nathan: Just want to see how you’re doing!
Nathan: Missed you today, I got your homework from the office.
Nathan: Mel and Sophie wanted me to check in, see if you’re okay.
Nathan: Did you know it’s male peacocks who have all the colorful plumage? the females are sort of bland looking.
I can’t help but laugh at the last one because it screams Nathan. I really don’t deserve someone like him.
No one does.
Nathan: I can keep sending random facts if you want!
Nathan: Or videos of puppies!!!
He’s sent five, and I watch all of them. I want to reply, to let him know that I’m at least safe. But something in me is just keeping me from typing the simplest of messages.
I am okay.
For some reason, it’s easier to text Mariam. The words come easier with them.
Me: hey
Mariam: Hey Benji, what’s up???
Me: Something happened…
Mariam: uh-oh
Me: I met with my parents.
The little bubble beside Mariam’s name appears and reappears over and over again for almost a full minute.
Me: you okay?
Mariam: me? Okay? Ben are YOU okay????
Mariam: sorry, I just…
Mariam: Couldn’t even think of what to say to that
Mariam: Ben… what happened?
I tell them everything. The message, meeting with Mom and Dad, them showing up at the art show and the fight with Hannah. The texting already feels easier. Maybe it’s because Mariam isn’t actually here. I can’t see their face while I tell them this, and they won’t run over from their house to come and try to comfort me or whatever.
Mariam: Are you safe?
Me: Yeah, they’re gone.
Mariam: Ben… I don’t even know where to begin…
Me: They wanted me to go back home with them.
Me: I told them no
Mariam: THE. FUCK.
Mariam: Send me their address, I’m going to go kick their asses
Mariam: What can I do?
Me: keep me company?
Mariam: You got it, want to Facetime?
Me: Not right now.
Me: Just keep talking, not about them.
Mariam: Well…
Mariam: me and Shauna made it official, which sucks because my tour will take me out of California next week and she can’t come with me.
Me: That’s great! The official part, not the separating part.
Nothing feels faker than typing out false enthusiasm while I feel like I’m rotting from the inside out.
Me: I don’t think you told me how you met.
Mariam: The usual way. I kept seeing her at a Starbucks and I melted slowly into a puddle of anxiety until she actually came up to me and we started talking.
Me: Love at first anxiety attack
Mariam: That’s how I roll.
Mariam: What about