Without Scars (22 page)

Almost there.

“Baby! Nik!” Charlie called out. The sound of his footsteps got heavier.
No! No! No!
“Where you going?”

I slowed my steps until he caught up to me. “To get water. My throat really hurts.” I looked at the grocery store, disappointment expanding in my chest.

“I can get you some. Wait here. I was gonna get some for Tyler. Are you okay?” Charlie folded his arms around me. Sometimes his hugs really hurt but I always wanted them. “I just couldn’t drive anymore with him saying those things to you. Does he do that a lot? Talk to you that way?”

“No. He never has.” I had more to say:
Our family was exactly like yours. Tyler used to be one of my best friends.
Please keep seeing all the good in me. Please don’t stop loving me.

“Stay out here. I’ll be right back.” As he turned to go, his smile was kind, but the undercurrent of anger in it shook me. I brushed my hand over my mouth. My palms were clammy, and my face was drenched. I paced out front, tempted to see if I could beat him to one of the registers inside.

But Charlie was back fast and shoving a bottle of water in my hand on his jog toward Tyler. I dug my glare into his back, resentful almost to the point of rage at him. Trailing behind, I sucked the water down in gulps. I wanted it to quench my thirst so badly.

It didn’t. It wouldn’t.

When we got to my apartment, Charlie lugged Tyler up the stairs and inside without my help. I was glad because I could barely carry myself. A steady screeching ripped across my forehead. He laid my brother on the couch. Tyler had passed out while Charlie was inside the supermarket, so I’d escaped his verbal assault the rest of the ride. I scooped up Charlie’s keys from the end table near my front door. I left my cellphone in its place.

Beer. I could have beer. I didn’t enjoy the taste but my intoxication would come slower. Just one to calm me down. I wouldn’t be gone long. “I wanted to run when I got out of the car that night,” I said, focusing on a spot on the carpet. “I wanted to run away. I almost did. I knew my life was over. I remember walking around for a few minutes, and then I fell apart right there. Everything I’d done was all over the road, someone was crying in the Andersons’s car, and I considered just running. I didn’t want to deal with it. I wanted it to not be happening, so I didn’t do anything right away. I thought about myself and how much trouble I was going to be in. I felt bad for myself. It was after all that when I finally thought to get my dad help and to check on the Andersons.”

“Nik…” I looked up at Charlie. His expression was comforting, and it filled my entire heart. My will almost ruptured.
Give me a fucking reason to go, Charlie. Judge me for being awful for once. Make me feel like shit.
Goddammit, I wanted to see disapproval and disgust. I wanted to scream at him.
Look at me like I’m a destructive piece of shit! Realize that you made the biggest mistake in your life! Please just do it!
At the minimum, I wanted an inscrutable expression that I could decide was meant to be hurtful. “You okay?”

“Did you hear what I said?” I spat out.

“
Yeah
…and I asked if you were okay.”

I nodded. “I need to clear my head.” I hid my hand behind my back, and the key ridges gnawed my palm. I clenched my teeth and took the pain. I needed to focus on something that would stop me from confessing my true intention. “Can you put Ty in my bed and make sure he’s okay? I know it’s a lot to ask because he’s not your problem—”

“He made you cry. So he
is
my problem, and when he wakes up I’m gonna be
his
.” Charlie plopped down in the armchair across from the couch, looking more like the grim reaper than a guardian angel.

“Okay…” I had no interest in pleading for Tyler this time. I didn’t fucking care. Fuck my brother. “Be right back…” I muttered as I left the apartment. Then, I jumped into Charlie’s car. My legs were too short for his seat position, but I was afraid he would come after me in the time I’d waste adjusting it to my preference. So I tore out of my apartment complex, only putting on the seatbelt when I caught a red light. I knew this street. Four turns or so and I’d be at Coco’s
.
But someone whose family didn’t hate her would go to Coco’s. And, well, mine…did. They were even colluding in their emotions now
.
We all do
. Tyler’s words didn’t hurt me inside my own head. A hollow feeling was quick to move in. It filled me the way ink spills. 

My craving could dull anything; it was itself a kind of medicine.

“Fuck you,” I said aloud. No, seriously, fuck them. I didn’t give a flying fuck. Fuck Tyler. Fuck my parents. Fuck Miami traffic. Fuck the people in the car next to me staring right now. Fuck this red light for taking so long. Fuck the people on the corner laughing and having a great night.

Fuck my life.

Fuck everything about me.

Fuck everything.

I’d wanted to be better since the day of the accident. I’d absorbed the guilt and infused it with every part of me, vowing that I’d never drink again. I changed my life.
Myself.
But the hard truth was I would never have the luxury of burying the awful parts of me under redemption. So why the hell was I even trying? Whoever I was fighting to be
now
would always have to trudge uphill. Miss America. President. Drunk driver.

Some titles stuck for life.

I kept straight on when the light turned green, trying to remember the way to a place called Aqua without my phone. I got as close as I could before I knew street parking would be impossible, and then tucked Charlie’s car into the safety of an attended lot. It cost me a fair bit of that twenty dollars but I could still afford a cheap beer. No using my debit card. That would be a slippery slope.

I didn’t actually want to go to Aqua, though. I took a short walk to a street with just dive bars, and I eenie-meenie-miney-moe’d to a place called Stu’s. Stu, a smart guy in my opinion, had decided against anything fancy for the interior. He knew what people came here to do: forget, freeze time, drown, pretend, and die a little. The bar was just stagnant air, a damp floor, and LED strip lights shaped like people diving. I snorted. Charlie and Ghost would’ve made fun of me for coming here, like they did about Coco’s.
My friend and my boyfriend.
My boyfriend.
Who knew to put on Kings of Leon when my hurt was as heavy as the universe. A jolt of sadness fired through my numbness.

Did he miss me? Was he worried? Or was he enjoying the moment and doing neither?  My resolve withered a fraction but I made it to a barstool.

“Hi, hon, what can I get for you?” The grinning bartender came out of nowhere. She was a pretty girl with big eyelashes, a Caribbean accent, and arms outstretched on the bar top between us.

“Hello,” I said. My lips trembled. Tears warmed my eyelids. “How are you?”

“I’m great. Are you okay?” she asked. There was sympathy in her eyes, and she pushed her smile out a little more. I nodded. I didn’t want bartender psychoanalysis tonight. “What can I get for you?”

The woman I’m trying to be.
I clenched my fist on top of the bar. “A…a vod…ka cran.” God, I even sounded like I was doing something wrong. I’d come here to order beer, but what was the use? As soon as she set the drink down I picked it up and put it to my lips. The thrill was back. The first sip burned. The second sip was really a few gulps and much better. The third—

Fuck. No. I don’t want this. I don’t want this!

I slammed the plastic tumbler onto the bar top, and I dashed to the small, dank bathroom at the back of the bar. Throwing one of the stall doors open, I leaned over the toilet and stuck my index and middle fingers as far down my throat as I could. Then, I made myself vomit until my stomach hurt from contracting.

I didn’t dare look at my tear-streaked face in the spotty mirror at the sink when I washed my hands. This person right now…this person was sad and dangerous. I was ashamed of her. I hated her so fucking much. Yet, I was here throwing away everything for her. I wasn’t
this
anymore.
This
person
was just the reflection in a funhouse mirror—distorted and scary. And not fucking real
.
She was a ghost now, a haunting; only here to remind me of what I never wanted to be again.

A piercing pain pressed into my stomach. Not a craving.

This was rage. Two years ago when I did this, I created the worst night of four people’s lives. If I stayed here, if I
really
drank, it would be the worst night of
my
life. I didn’t have to repeat the past. I was better than my past. I was better. Struggling meant still trying.

I staggered out of the restroom and back to my stool at the bar. “Miss? Are you all right?” the bartender asked again.

“A phone…please. Please get me a phone.”

It took me three tries to get Lea’s number correct, because who learned anything anymore when a cellphone could, right? I waited for her outside, on the opposite side of the street, leaning against a stranger’s car, after pumping myself with water. I didn’t even want to be near the bar anymore; my reason for coming sickened me.

My name sounded over the nighttime noise. Lea was hurrying toward me out of the darkness. I felt pathetic that I needed her tonight. I could’ve called my sponsor, but sometimes a girl just wanted to be with her best friend. “I’m so glad you called me,” she said, hugging me. Lea was in her study attire: baggy sweatpants, hair ponied, and a big t-shirt. She hated this part of the city and it made her nervous, so I also felt like crap for dragging her out here.

“I don’t think of people like me as damaged. But I’ve been standing here wondering, if I’m not broken or messed up, why can’t I beat this? Why am I so fucking weak? What is so wrong with me that I would ever think this was okay?”

“Well, it’s a disease, for one…and you know that.” She stroked my hair. “And you didn’t think it was okay at all, Nikki…”

“Tyler said some really fucked-up things to me today. He threw everything that’s wrong with me in my face. And what did I do…I proved him right.”

“No, babe, you fought. That’s not weakness. That is courage. Courage is just about being scared out of your mind and not even knowing if you have enough strength to do what you need to do or if it’ll even work out, and going forward anyway. So, you’re doing okay. You
got through this. Despite everything, you always get through it.”

“Barely. I’m barely getting through it.” I threw my hands up. “At the season premiere party for
How to Fuck up a Friendship
I walked into the street. On purpose.” Rock bottom was like a confessional.

“What?” She ground her teeth and gulped down, like she was literally trying to digest the information. She stood frozen for a moment, only her brow furrowing and unfurrowing. Furrowing. Unfurrowing. “Were you trying to hurt yourself? Tell me if you were Nikki. You have to tell me.”

“No…I was…I was just wondering what it would be like to be Dad and Camryn. To carry their pain, too. It was stupid.” It was the truth but I didn’t bank on convincing her that it was. Did well-adjusted people consider highway Russian Roulette? But that was the kind of shit that crossed my mind. That was what I’d gotten Charlie into. This always-impending apocalypse.

Her eyebrows went up. “You
really
think you’re not carrying it already?”

God, I was. Emotionally. But I was so desperate for real scars. “Fuck. I just want to be someone who isn’t always on the brink of falling apart…”

“I know. The truth is, we all do.”

We talked some more until we were both certain any alcohol in my system wouldn’t impact me on the road. I didn’t need her to trail me once I was back in Charlie’s car, but she did. I waved at her and blew her a kiss when we went our separate ways. If she was right about courage, then I was the bravest person in the world, because I didn’t know how I was going to explain any of this to Charlie. Or if I could. One of my worst fears with him had always been him seeing me sloppy drunk, but this was pretty awful too: him finding out that I almost gave in.

The world shifted, spinning my head as I parked and walked inside my building. Three flights up.

I was ready to vomit again. And I wouldn’t need to assist myself this time.

“Charlie…I am so sorry. When I took your car, I was planning to go drink,” I said as soon as I opened the door. My brother was still asleep on the couch but under a blanket, with a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on the table next to him. The smell of vomit drifted from my bathroom wastebasket near him. Charlie stood up from the same chair I’d left him sitting in. He looked exhausted at first, and then suddenly relieved. My boyfriend was definitely more guardian angel than grim reaper. “I went to a bar. I took a few sips and stopped. I called Lea. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say a word until he was right in front of me, hands cupping my face. “Tell me who you are.”

“What? I don’t—”

“Tell me what you like most about yourself.”

“Um…okay…I’m…strong. I think I’m strong. Even though I cry
a lot.
But I try not to give up…”