“That’s awesome!” I force enthusiasm into my voice. It’s not an emotion that comes easy these days.
“Soooooooo…will you come with me? Please?” Lucy begs.
My stomach drops. I haven’t done anything remotely social in almost a year, and this sounds like it falls square into the events-that-take-place-outside-of-my-bedroom-and-with-strangers category. Which I am not into. At all.
But it’s Lucy, and Lucy has done everything for me these last eleven months and asked for almost nothing in return. So I nod.
“Of course I’ll go with you.” I glance at the other faces at the table and catch Chim’s eye. She’s down at the other end, flirting with some girl I vaguely recognize. She shoots me a quizzical look, and I shake my head and bury it in Lucy’s shoulder.
Lucy says, “Thank you. Look, I know it’s hard. Coming back to school. Seeing these people. It was for me, and for you…” She trails off. “I know you hate this, but I have to ask. How are you doing?” She sounds so concerned, and I feel the immediate need to pretend. Pretend, pretend, pretend it’s all okay—that’s what my parents taught me; that’s what I’ve always been good at.
But when I pick my head up to meet her eyes, I just want to cry.
Stop it.
I look down and study the top of the table, drum a rhythmless beat on my jeans, repeat the phrases that the therapist told me would help—calm calm, safe safe, blah blah kill me blah (well, that’s a modified version of them, at least).
“You hungry?” Lucy knows better than to push the mushy stuff, thank god. She holds a pretzel in front of my face. I take it and start nibbling.
I shrug. “Not hungry. Just want to find a corner and curl into a ball and disappear.”
She shakes her head. “Seriously, May. It’ll be over before you know it.”
“The day?”
“The day, the year, everything. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but try to take it day by day, at least for the next few weeks.”
I can’t help but smile. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Trying to indoctrinate me with all your AA slogans. A day at a time, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”
Freshman year was not Lucy’s finest moment. Apparently, she inherited the drinking problem that her dad dealt with when we were younger. It was like drinking did one thing to most of us—Chim and I became louder, more obnoxious versions of ourselves, which wasn’t ideal, but at least wasn’t destructive—but Lucy…went dark. Super dark. It was like she turned into a whole other person. Thankfully, after a year and more scary nights than I’d like to remember, she decided to follow in her now-sober father’s footsteps and attend AA meetings with him. She’s been so much better since.
I, on the other hand, should have quit drinking when she did—should have quit partying, quit thinking I was so fucking cool. Doing dumb things. Acting like I was indestructible, like my actions didn’t matter. I should have listened to Lucy—to Jordan. Maybe things would be different right now if I had. Maybe he would be sitting next to me, instead of lying in a hole in the ground….
All of a sudden, my breath is coming out in fast, jagged bursts. The fluorescent lights are getting brighter. They’re burning my pupils.
“Lucy.” I grab her shirtsleeve, gasping. “Lucy.”
She takes one look at me and drops the sandwich that’s midway to her mouth. “Okay, okay. It’s okay. Shhh…breathe.” She puts her hand on my back. “Put your head between your knees. Yeah, like that. Good.” She’s rubbing the small of my back and my head is between my knees and the fuzzy sound in my ears is subsiding, the noises of the cafeteria becoming clearer.
I’m trying to slow my breathing and she’s whispering in my ear—soft, kind things—until I feel semi-okay again. Not like I’m going to vomit all over everyone at our table. Not like my brother’s ghost is going to spontaneously materialize out of my head and start shouting accusations at me.