Life's A Cappella (9 page)

“I don’t need him.”

“
No me jodas
,” Camilla said, the equivalent of saying
don’t bullshit
me in Spanish. I tried to disagree again, but Camilla continued, “Who doesn’t need people in their lives that love them?”

“Trent doesn’t love me.”

“Ha! Chewey doesn’t love you as much as you don’t love him.”

I did love him. But I couldn’t face his knowing eyes. I never wanted anyone to know who I used to be or what I left behind. But none of that mattered anymore; my mother made sure of it. I only had one choice; to move forward with the same stamina that had brought me this far.

“Cam,” I started, “I don’t want Trent knowing any of this.”

“Your decision, but as your best friend, I’m telling you that you’re a stubborn pain in the ass,” she told me, and I agreed. “Fine,” she over-dramatically sighed at me. “I’m gonna go buy us some deliciously greasy Cuban food. When I get back we’ll figure this shit out.”

“You’re coming back?” I asked, hopeful, and Camilla, my best friend, nodded.

It wasn’t until I was alone that I allowed my bitter heart to shed a tear. One single tear that screamed louder than a torrential downpour of tears.

I needed to change my frame of mind from despair to anger. I was familiar with anger. Anger I could deal with. With that in mind, I turned on Metallica and let the words from So What envelop me; a form of meditation I hoped would settle my distraught heart. With each word, I replaced the morbid thoughts of plunging from my balcony to the reasons I left Alabama.

Because I couldn’t think of anything else to do, I took a shower. I stood under the water, letting it pound on my back and face, hoping for some clarity. I wanted, yearned, to go back to yesterday or, at the very least, to give up. Just throw my hands up and admit I couldn’t do it. Life with its twists turns and inevitable drops were too much. Let someone else deal with it.

But I wasn’t built that way. No, I was built to fight. I may never win, but I’d try.

I reminded myself that I had the galls to not only leave everyone and everything I knew, I had also managed to make a life for myself. I had graduated college, a feat in and of itself. I didn’t just have a job, I had a career. I had an apartment that had become my home. I could extend it and make it Shayna’s home too.

Shayna, my little sister. My little sister whose eyes had seen too much. My little sister who had in her short life already endured too much. I hadn’t been there for her from the beginning, but I would make sure the rest of her life wasn’t so heinous. I’d take care of my little sister.

As soon as I got out of the shower, I could smell the food Camilla had bought us.
Croquettas
, white rice and beans. My stomach grumbled and demanded, and once again I found myself grateful to have Camilla in my life. She hadn’t fled like I hoped and expected she would. She had stuck it out with me, for me. For now.

Before serving myself, I shoved a
croquetta
in my mouth. “Ugh, good,” I told my friend as I rolled my eyes to the heavens in pure enjoyment. And I realized things couldn’t possibly be that bad if I could still find pleasure in something as simple as food. Granted, it was one of my favorite foods of all time, but it was still food. Deliciously, greasy food.

“Thanks for everything, Cam.”

“Oh, bite me, Erin,” she said casually and took a bite of the
Milanesa
steak she had ordered for herself. “So, when are we going to Alabama?”

“We?”

“Yeah,” she said, tossing her napkin at me. “You think I’m gonna let you go by yourself?”

Well yeah, I had thought that. “I haven’t looked at flights yet,” I confessed.

“No worries. We’ll look at them after dinner. And we have to get in contact with the guy in charge over there.”

“Tomorrow,” I told her. “I can’t tonight.”

“Tomorrow,” she agreed.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I confessed. “I mean, I’m gonna do it, but what if I can’t? What if I suck at taking care of a kid?”

“Pfft.” Camilla shrugged off my worries. “You’re a perfectionist. You don’t know how to suck at anything. Plus, your mom is a good example of the type of mom you don’t want to be.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “At least she was good for something.”

It felt good to laugh, especially at something I hadn’t thought was funny less than an hour ago.

“Wine?” she asked me, and I nodded my head. She filled up two of the glasses Trent had bought me with red wine and handed one to me. “So good,” she whispered into her glass before enjoying her next sip.

“Hmm,” I responded as my mind drifted to Trent and the day he had bought me the glasses and my first bottle of wine. It seemed as if years had passed since that day.

Camilla could see my mind had drifted elsewhere, and thankfully did not push me to find out what I was thinking about. I watched her shift through her phone till she put on T.I.’s album Paper Trail. She took me by my arm and demanded I dance with her. So I did.

We danced as if we didn’t have a care in the world. And drank as if we had something to celebrate. And maybe I did.

Camilla, typical Camilla, always looking out for me, offered to stay the night.

“Nah, I’m good,” I told her, ready for whatever lay ahead. “You should head on out. I’m ready to call it a night.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, dear,” I told her jokingly, and hugged her on impulse. Probably the first hug I had initiated.

“Okay, but call me if anything,” she told me as she headed towards the door.

I promised I would and then headed straight to bed but wound up lying in place with endless thoughts circling my brain. On a sigh, I reached for my phone, half hoping to see a missed call or text from Trent. I didn’t allow my heart to fall when none appeared. Instead I shifted through my music till I reached my Skylar Grey folder and hoped the darkness I felt would open itself up and invite the promise of dawn.

Chapter 15

Shayna

She had a sister, an older sister, Nate told her. Her sister lived far away, but she would come to Alabama to get her so they could live together. They’d live by the beach together and play in the sand and the water. Her sister would teach her how to make sand castles and how to swim. Even to a four year old, it felt unreal.

But Nate told her it was real. And soon it would be her real life. It reminded her of the fairy tales the nice woman she lived with read to her at night. Despite the unease she felt in the pit of her stomach, she wanted so badly to believe in happily ever after in a faraway places. She wanted to believe that one day soon, she’d have a sister who would chase away the ugliness that lived inside of her. The ugliness that made Momma hate her. The ugliness that had driven Momma away from her.

Chapter 16

Erin

Hung over and groggy, I had zero desire to get out of bed. But whoever was at the door was relentless, the knocking like a sledgehammer to my head. Probably Camilla. I looked at the clock and saw it was already past nine. How had I slept that long?

I opened my door, and without a word, let Tonya and Brianna in. I needed to shower or, at the very least, wash my face and brush my teeth, but rather than let me go about my morning ritual, Brianna grabbed me and held me in a fierce hug.

I immediately woke up, eyes flaring in fury and pushed Brianna off of me. Camilla had betrayed my trust. She knew I didn’t want anyone to know, but no, she took it upon herself and told Brianna and Tonya anyway.

“The fuck?” I shouted at them, barely able to hear my own voice over the ringing in my ears.

“We tried to call you,” Brianna explained. “But you didn’t answer.”

“No shit?” I retorted. “Could I have turned my phone off because I didn’t wanna talk to anyone?”

“You know?” Tonya asked me, her eyes wide, questioning. She was probably curious about my sanity. Which I was on the verge of losing.

“Of course I know,” I said angrily. “I just wanna know why the hell Camilla told you. It’s not your concern.”

“What? No?” Brianna shook her head at me.

“I appreciate the concern,” I told them, “but you need to leave.”

“Wait, stop!” Tonya shouted at me. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand,” I said evenly.

“She’s gone, Erin!” Tonya shouted at me, stopping me mid-thought. “She’s gone,” she repeated, causing Brianna to start crying.

Confused, I looked at my friends and finally noticed that something was wrong. Their eyes shone red with tears not yet shed brimming over. Something was very wrong.

“Who’s gone?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

“Cam.”

Cam? Gone? Where? I couldn’t remember asking any questions or who responded, but I remembered the answer. Cam left my apartment last night but never made it home.

She was gone. Dead.

The remainder of the day passed me by in a blur. No, days. Days seemed to come and go in a haze, none of them making any sense. People, my friends, visited me and left. I had conversations I couldn’t recall and nights that didn’t end. I didn’t go to work and only half hoped I had called in sick.

Somebody had left me a bottle of Xanax, which I eagerly combined with a couple of shots of Patron, only making the nights and days blur together as one. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or how time could pass at all, when the day of her funeral, Camilla’s funeral, finally arrived.

Trent woke me up early that morning, refusing to let me take any pills or alcohol. It didn’t matter. Nothing could ease the pain I felt. It was embedded in me, a permanent limb I could neither live with nor without.

I didn’t speak to him as I got ready, nor did I think about the fact that Trent, the man I was sure hated me, was in my apartment. I couldn’t remember if I had spoken to him or seen him since our fight. I guess it didn’t really matter. He was there, but he might as well have been a galaxy away.

I sat on my couch, feeling my chest constrict with every beat my heart took, and Camilla’s didn’t. We had drunk too much because of my stupid life. If I hadn’t been so damn stubborn, those were her words, right? Stubborn. If I hadn’t been so stubborn and let her stay, let her help me like she wanted to, this wouldn’t have happened.

I grabbed my stomach, rocking back and forth on the couch. This was my fault. Me and my stupid useless pathetic life.

Trent sat down next to me but, I quickly got up and ran to the bathroom where I dispensed my anxiety into the toilet. And started to moan, an uncontrollable moan that made my shoulders shake and my stomach hurt worse. I felt Trent put his arms around me and I leaned into him, seeking comfort that didn’t exist.

Trent eased me back into the couch and left me to bring me a glass of water and my little white, bitter pill. I swallowed the pill greedily and hoped for calm, knowing one pill wouldn’t do much, but knowing Trent wouldn’t give me another.

As we were leaving, I made an excuse to go back to the apartment and dashed away from his car so I could take another pill. I then hid an extra in-case-shit-got-really-bad pill in my purse.

I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for any of it. To see my dead friend, our friends, her family. I wasn’t ready to make it any more real than it already was.

I twisted my hands and worried my skirt until little threads started to come out. Without a word, Trent grabbed my hand and squeezed. I tried to find comfort in his strength, but still, there was no comfort for me to find.

I held onto Trent’s hand as we got out of the car and walked into the funeral home. I held even tighter as a wave of nausea overtook me. And nearly collapsed when Sofia, Camilla’s mom, held me in her arms, speaking words to me I’d never forget.

“She loved you like a sister,” Sofia whispered in my ear.

I nodded my head at her, unable to speak, willing myself to stay upright and not crumble at this woman’s feet.

Camilla was my sister, the only family I’d ever had. And selfishly, I thought of only myself and my pain, not realizing how everyone in that room had also lost someone special. But I was indifferent to their pain and could only focus on my own loss.

With Trent by my side, I walked towards Brianna, Jermaine, and Tonya and let them hug me, returning an indifferent hug. Tonya said something to me and I nodded my head politely, hoping a nod was the response she had been looking for, but I couldn’t hear her. The words she spoke were lost in the abyss I was trapped in, an abyss that was becoming a part of who I was. I couldn’t hear her; all I heard was the damn ringing in my ears. I felt the weight of Trent putting his arm around my shoulders as he spoke on my behalf.

Without realizing it, I had walked into the room where Camilla was placed, looking peaceful. Serene. Those were the words commonly used to describe the deceased during a wake. Peaceful. Serene.

The girl lying in front of me did not look like Camilla though. It wasn’t just the amount of makeup the girl had on or the bland colored long sleeve shirt. No, it wasn’t what she had, but rather what was missing. The liveliness was gone. The energy… poof. Of course it was gone; that’s kind of what happens when a person dies. I almost laughed at the absurdities ransacking my brain. And what a picture that would have made. Maniacal best friend laughs at the face of death.

I looked at Camilla, who I was trying to convince myself was not really Camilla, and silently asked her to come back. She could stay at my apartment with me. We could stay up drinking wine and eating
pastelitos
. Whatever. Just come back, I wanted to beg. I need you, I silently pleaded.

But Camilla just lied there with her eyes shut. Wearing too much clothing . Too much makeup. Damn it all to Hell and back. I turned away from her, furious, and walked away. I barreled my way through the funeral home until I was outside and nearly flattened Camilla’s mom.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’m sorry,” I repeated on the verge of hysteria. “For everything.”

This woman who had lost her daughter, who must have been grief stricken beyond repair, hugged me, stroked my back and spoke softly to me, trying to comfort me. I should have been ashamed of myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel it. Not when I was encompassed by a familiarity and calmness I thought I’d never feel again. There was Camilla in this woman. Not quite here, but not completely gone. So I burrowed my face and cried, finally cried real tears, in Sofia’s arms. With each tear shed, I felt my stomach loosen and thought maybe, just maybe, the tears would be my resurrection back to life. To a life without my best friend.