By My Side (3 page)

             
“Gabe, the truth.”

He sighed, bent down, and grabbed a stone. He stared at it in his large hand and hurled it into the water. I couldn't see where it went, but I heard the
slight splash it made as it hit.

             
“My best friend, who was also my dorm mate, died of an overdose in May.”

His voice broke in a sob. He groaned angrily and messed his hair with both hands. One tear ran down his face
and fell on his black Nirvana T-shirt.

             
“An overdose?”
Wow
.

             
“Yeah.” He sighed and looked at my face. “I didn't know it was that bad. Or maybe I did.” He shook his head and looked at the sky, where clouds had begun to appear.

             
“It's not because he was your roommate and best friend, you had to know something like that would happen. You didn’t feed him the drugs; he did it out of his own free will,” I said with sincerity, knowing Gabe had only one joint in his life. I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it softly.

             
“How could you know?” His voice was barely a murmur, but I heard it despite the loud music.

             
“Like you said about me, I know you. You're against drugs and you wouldn't leave a friend.”

             
“But you hate me,” he pointed out, distractedly.

             
“Oh, yeah, you’re still an ass to me, but still.”

             
We looked at each other, a new understanding passing. I averted my gaze first and returned to my car on shaky legs. What was that? I looked at the bonfire and saw Andy glaring at me. He had seen and he couldn't stand me anymore. With an ache in my heart and many questions in my head, I climbed in my car.

             
Two in the morning and I was in the attic. It's my refuge. Four lamps were on and provided a soft light for me to paint or draw. I hadn't touched a brush or a pencil since the breaking news about the divorce two months ago.

             
Art was my little private pleasure. Nobody had seen my art, not even my parents. Andy didn't know about it. My dream was to become a publisher, not an artist lost in New York. When I draw, I forget about judgment and about sarcasm. I was me, without my shield.

             
I was looking at my last drawing I just finished; a girl lost in the dark, crying. She's nothing like me, but she's me in some way. I couldn't cry, but I could draw about it. My drawing was dark, desperate, and I loved it. I sighed and put it in the cupboard where I kept all my drawings since I was ten when I took art at the next level. Some people kept and wrote a diary; instead, I draw what I felt.

             
I closed the cupboard and looked at the attic. Everything was in wood. There's a desk in one corner, where I was sitting earlier, and an easel next to the only window—a little opening on the south. Everywhere on the ground were paints, brushes, and blank canvases. One by one, I turned off the lamps, returning to the dark where I could hear my mom snoring loudly from the alcohol she had drank and passed out from.

             
Smelling a breath stinking of alcohol at breakfast was disgusting. How could she drink like that at eight in the morning? I breathed in my coffee, trying to chase away my nausea.

             
“When will you return to work?” I asked, not bothering with any pleasantries.

             
“I called in sick yesterday. I took two weeks,” she mumbled, taking a new bottle. This time she was in whiskey mood.
Wonderful.
If she spilled, it'd be more difficult to clean the mess. After all, it's her problem. Who cared? Well, me obviously.

             
I finished my mug and put it in the sink. Do I have to make her something to eat? She's had nothing in her stomach since she threw up yesterday night. I closed my eyes, trying to ease my breathing.

             
“Don't you think you need to eat?” I pointed out in a calm tone. I pushed aside my long hair to look at my mother. She was furious at me this time.

             
“Now my teenage daughter is giving me advice, don’t make me laugh.” Before all this crap she would never have mocked me or been bitter. She's a strong woman, or it's what I thought.

             
“You’re a hypocrite,” I replied angrily. “Who's acting like a teenager? I cleaned your mess and helped you to bed because you were too drunk!” It's openly said. Not exactly with tact, but that’s me.

             
“What, no more sarcasm, Lily? Your mother's a mess so you've got an easy subject,” she replied, the bottle in hand. She took a big gulp and smiled with provocation. What's the matter now? I will not fight with her even if it's what she wanted. I will not play this kind of mind game. I was not that crazy … yet.

             
“Too easy, I need a target more challenging.” I was not a perfect daughter—far from it even—because this answer was more provocative than the previous attack.

             
“Charming,” she replied and turned to leave. What were you expecting, Mother?

             
She walked to the living room, bumping twice into the white wall.
She's already wasted
,
nice
… I put my long—too long—hair in a tight bun and grabbed my keys. She didn't want my help and I didn't want to witness this. She wanted to be selfish, so I will be, too. Maybe I was childish, but it hurt. Everything hurt. I put my car in gear and left this Hell house. Where will I go? Andy was no longer there for me. My head hurt; I had a constant headache.

             
Without thinking, I was in front of Andy's house. I have ended up here so many times, that without even thinking about it I still end up here. What will I do? I sighed heavily and jumped out of my car into the hot sun. I'm wearing black shorts and a green tank top over my new black bikini. As usual, I've got All Stars on my feet, my trademark. I wasn’t exactly a girly-girl, but I wasn’t trying to hide my generous curves either.

             
I rang the doorbell and waited. My brain was blank. I didn’t have any idea of what I’d say to Andy, I just needed him. I hoped he would open the door, knowing his parents were already at work, but Gabe was the one who welcomed me. He was shirtless, so it was hard to miss his tan or well-built physique. Okay, now I needed to focus on his face and not on his body. God, it’s Gabe! That thought woke me up.

             
“Hi!” It's the first time in my life I said it to him. I was morphing into all the girls drooling over him. He's sexy as hell, so what? Suddenly I recalled our talk the night before.

             
“Don't tell me you came for me or I'll collapse,” he replied, teasing me with a rueful smile. He noticed I checked him out.
Busted!
I hoped I wasn’t blushing.

             
“No, jackass. Is Andy here?” I entered after he motioned me in. He had a cup of coffee and it smelled divine.

             
“He's in his room, but I wouldn’t go up if I were you.” He returned into the kitchen and poured a second mug. “I saw you drooling over my mug,” he said, giving it to me.
So he saw me checking him out.

             
“Thanks, I suppose.” Was it because he felt some pity for me about my life? Because he's never kind to me.

             
“I'll always tease you, but we're not kids anymore. You're seventeen, and I'm twenty. Everything changed,” he replied with a smile. I drank my coffee, hot, black, and strong.
Perfect.
I sighed.

             
“Yeah, everything changed.” We looked at each other.

             
“Why wouldn't I want to see Andy?” I finally asked, embarrassed by this exchange.

             
“Well, you accuse me of being an ass, but not him,” he began, putting his mug in the sink and passing a hand in his hair. “He’s no better than me.”

             
“It runs in the family.”

             
“Something like that. But seriously, Lily, he's jealous,” he explained. I could imagine it. I didn't want a new fight, but letting things like this go wasn’t always good.

             
“Thanks for the tip,” I said, finishing my coffee before I headed to the stairs.

             
“You're so stubborn,” he mumbled.

             
“Thank you,” I replied with a laugh. Enjoying Gabe's company was strange, but I was. I knocked at Andy's door.

             
“Who is it?”

             
“Someone you seem to have forgotten.” Frowning, he opened the door. He's not pleased at all.

             
“My brother isn't enough for you?” he snapped at me. I was in shock. If that's what he thought of me, I didn't understand how we could have been friends. I knew he’d always been in competition with Gabe, but I was not part of this. He must know it. Did he know about the loss Gabe was dealing with?

             
“You're kidding,” I replied. He exhaled and shook his head. When he wanted to be, he could be really obnoxious.

             
“Like you don't know what I mean. You're like all the sluts you criticize. You’re no better. All you want is him to screw you. Take a ticket.”

             
I never cared what people thought about me, but with Andy it's different. Having the person you trust most in the world talking about you like that was hurtful. More hurtful than I could have imagined.

             
“Now I really know who you are,” I said coldly, my blue eyes locked with his brown.