Paperweight (11 page)

“Stevie!” Eden waved from her seat at a patio table a few bars down. She was siting alone. I waved back, then turned to Josh.

“Don't be weird. She's my friend, okay?”

“What do you mean,
weird
?”

“Just . . .” I raised my palm for emphasis. “Just.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Got it.”

Eden didn't get up when we reached her table. She shielded her eyes, even though it was dark out and there was already an umbrella over the table.

“Hey.” She grinned at Josh. “Is this the brother?”

“Hey. Joshua.” Josh lifted his hand in a half wave.

“God,” I muttered under my breath.

“Eden.”

I sat next to her. Josh took the seat on the other side of the table.

“So, you wrote lyrics for one of the bands? That's really cool.” Josh smoothed his gray T-shirt, leaned back in his chair, then hunched forward. Inside the bar, somebody tuned an electric guitar. “Have you written for the festival before? During other years?”

During other years?
I shot him a look. He sounded like he'd just asked her about her stock portfolio, or her thoughts on health-care reform.

Eden swirled melting ice in an empty glass and shook her head. “This is my very first time. Can you believe it?” She lifted her glass, shook a cube onto her tongue, and held it glistening between her teeth.

Even in the dark, I could see Josh go red.

“When does the band go on?” I asked too loudly.

“I think around nine.” She crushed the ice and swallowed
it. She turned to Josh. “It's my friend Reid and my other friend Nic—they have this cool electric sound. I turned some of my freewriting from seminar into lyrics, and they liked them, so . . .”

“Impressive,” Josh said, like he was forty. “So how's the class going?” He flagged down a waiter at the next table. Something our mother would do.

“Really good, I think. Ben's amazing. And it's been cool getting to know your sister.” She cut her eyes at me and winked.

“Hey. Hold still.” I leaned over and pressed the outer corner of her eye with my thumb. When I pulled away, there was a black glitter smudge on the tip. Fallout from her newest look: a dark, glinting, smoky eye. Along with her star tattoo, it made her eyes look like a supernova. You could get sucked in and disappear.

“Thanks.” She searched my face. “You curled your hair and did your makeup.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah.”

“Can I get you guys something to drink?” The waiter stood behind Eden.

“I'll have another.” She raised her glass in the air like a torch.

“Sweet tea,” Josh said, which was humiliating. “And can we get, like, an order of fries or something?”

The silver star over Eden's eye shuddered.

Josh turned his whole body toward me and lowered his voice. “What do you want to eat, Sass? Anything. Dad gave me money.”

“I'm not hungry.” I glanced at the waiter. “What are your drink specials?”

“You mean, like . . .
drink
drinks?” the waiter asked.

Eden was quiet.

“No,” Josh said, his eyes on me. “She doesn't. She'll have tea, too. And the fries. Bring the fries.”

“Josh.” I hated the way my voice trembled, but I couldn't straighten it out. “I don't want the fucking fries.”

“Don't curse, Sass.”

“Sooo . . .” The waiter glanced back and forth between us.

“She'll—” Josh's mouth crumpled and his eyes looked like colored glass. “Just bring them. Please,” he muttered.

The waiter looked at me.

“Water with lemon,” I whispered.

The waiter practically sprinted inside.

I stared into the crowd, too embarrassed to look at Eden and too pissed to look at Josh. When Josh got up to go to the bathroom I felt her hand just above my knee, burning hot through the fabric of my jeans. I stiffened.

“Sorry. He's, like, overprotective sometimes,” I said.

“Actually, I think it's sweet.” She didn't move her hand, but leaned close enough for me to feel her breath on my ear. “Your brother seems like a really good guy. I'm glad he's looking out for you. Somebody has to.”

Back on the couch, I let my pen drop and rub my eyes, trying to erase the memory of that night. I didn't need Josh to look out for me. I didn't need anyone. I was getting stronger every day, more self-reliant. In the end, it was Josh who needed protection. Only neither of us knew he would need protection from me.

Sunday, July 13, 1:06
A.M.

I twist beneath the sheets for hours, desperate for sleep and afraid of it.

I want a pill from my stash. Hell, I want six or ten or however many it will take for me to forget myself and where I am and what—god, if there is one, help me—I've done. I want to forget the way the lines and angles of my body have bowed into curves, how my belly arcs toward the ceiling, a pale, sweaty crescent moon. The precious space between my thighs is crumbling. And I can feel the hard-edged fruit and oil weighing me down. Taking me further from my Josh.

But every time I near sleep, I'm scared shitless. Because the memories are coming faster now, pouring through me, as if I've broken the handle on the faucet. They are coming, no matter
how much it hurts. And all I can do is hold my breath and try not to drown.

I'm close to sleep when the overhead light in our bedroom clicks on. Fluorescent light brings tears to my eyes.

“Hey.” I press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets until I see stars. “Turn it off, okay?”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Her whisper sounds like a yell. The light stays on.

“Seriously. Turn it off. Go in the hall or something if you need a light.”

“I would, Stevie. But I just need to finish, okay? Just . . . sorry.”

“Ashley.” I sit up. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. She is sitting cross-legged in the center of the room. Around her, a mass explosion. Every single item of clothing both of us owns is strewn across the floor. Her mattress is bare.

“What the hell?” I flatten my back against the wall and bring my knees to my chest. “Ashley, are you . . . Are you okay?”

“Stevie, ohmygod. I'm better than okay. I'm, like, amazing.” She's fully dressed, in jeans and a white T-shirt. In full makeup and dripping hair. “I'm just getting some stuff done because our days are so busy, so I'm just straightening up so our room looks nice.” Her voice drops to a low whisper. “I tried to be quiet.”

I check the clock by my bed. 1:15
A.M
. I look away and check it again. Josh taught me that trick, when I was little and had nightmares. If the time on the clock is the same when you look the second time, you're not dreaming.

I'm not dreaming.

“Ashley.” I keep my voice even, like she is a frantic child and I am the adult. But I'm not an adult, and she's scaring me. “You
need to go to sleep, okay? You need to go to bed.” I rack my brain for the right thing. Should I call a nurse?
Hello, my roommate is batshit crazy. Symptoms? Straightening up. But trust me.

“I'm not tired!” she assures me. “It's like, I haven't had much energy since I got here and now all of a sudden? Listen. Listen. I'm going to arrange our clothes by color, okay? That's how my closet is at home and it makes it so easy to find everything. I'll do yours, too. Okay?” She's talking too fast, the words like dry sand pouring from her mouth.

“Okay,” I whisper. I stay pressed against the wall as she folds the clothes. A rainbow starts to form in uneven piles around her. “But tomorrow we should talk to your therapist.”

“God. Kyle. Can you believe I got the only man here? I think they want me to feel better about my dad or something. Did you know I have father hunger?” She hiccups a laugh. “You know what I thought of when they told me that? A chocolate dad wrapped in foil, like Easter candy.”

“That's funny. We'll talk to Kyle, okay? In the morning.” I glance at the door. My skin is slick.

“Ohmygod.” She claps her hands together. “I started journaling! Because Anna told you to journal, and so I brought it up to Kyle and he said okay.” She jumps up and sweeps everything off of the wall shelf until she gets to a spiral notebook. Then she opens it and flips the pages one after the other after the other, too fast to read. “This is bullshit, though. Seriously.” Her face darkens.

“Ashley. I think maybe you need something to help you sleep. I can help you.”

“Can't. I have to switch my laundry.” She tears the pages from her notebook and they drop to the floor. “But I'll be back.” She
hurries to my side of the bed and grasps my hands in hers.

“I can't remember the last time I felt this good. I'm getting
better
, Stevie.” Her eyes are bright and loose, like fortunes rolling in a Magic 8 Ball.

“That's good, Ashley. That's really good.”

When she leaves, I jump out of bed and scoop up the journal pages. There are words everywhere, covering every inch of the page in different directions, pinks and greens and baby blues, fat and schoolgirlish. I can make out the words, but I can't find a sentence. The back of my throat tastes like peanut butter and sick. I can't be here anymore.

In the hall, the dryer door slams. I wind my bedsheet around me and grab my journal. Sneak down the hall to the small porch outside the front door. Screw bed checks. Let them catch me. I flop into one of the rocking chairs and pull my sheet tighter. It does nothing to stop the cold. I angle the other chair perpendicular to mine and prop my feet on the armrest.

In the distance, just above my left big toe, a string of white lights from a nearby city bobs in the dark, like the Christmas lights draped over downtown for the Pit. I count them left to right, right to left. Remember the way Eden's face looked under those lights. She was beautiful, the way two plus two is four. It was simple fact, and I wasn't the only one who knew it.

Eden,

I got your letter. Obviously. Maybe sometime we could talk on the phone or something. I don't really use the phone here, but I could, if I wanted to. After dinner, which is going-out time at home, I guess.

I've been thinking about you. A lot, actually. About what happened to Josh, and why it happened. I think it started that night at the Pit. I keep replaying the night again and again in my head and every time I want to know: Why did you do it? Just for fun? To prove you could?

My fingers are trembling with cold and anger, and I nestle the pen in the center of the journal. I go through the night of the Pit once more, combing through the sandy details to find a shell I hadn't seen before. Maybe if I remember just one more time. Maybe then I'll understand how everything unraveled.

Josh and Eden and I hung around long enough to hear her friends play the patio of a dive bar. Christmas lights sagged overhead. Around us, the hipster set crammed around patio furniture, drinking soapy-smelling beer. I sat between Eden and Josh, ignoring my brother and watching Eden watch the show. She bobbed her head in perfect rhythm, strands of hair around her face pressed against her damp skin. I'd never seen anyone more comfortable existing.

“Sass,” Josh hissed, leaning close. “What did I—are you seriously mad at me?”

I shushed him and stared straight ahead. “I'm trying to watch. Could you not ruin this, too?”

“I should be mad at you, you know that? We do the Pit together every year—you and me. As a family,” he whispered accusingly.

“Josh, please.” I glared at the band. “We haven't been a family since Mom left.”

“Bullshit.” His voice cracked, which made me feel awful. “Bullshit.”

I'm sorry
, I should have said.
I didn't mean it.
But instead I gritted my teeth and pretended to listen to the music and pretended not to think about what an asshole I was, or about the way my thighs stuck to the cheap plastic patio furniture. I wanted to be alone with Eden, and buzzed. Josh was screwing everything up.

When everyone around me clapped, I clapped, too. I leaned toward Eden when the music got loud again and muttered, “God, I need a drink, you know?”

“Get one, then,” she said, her voice low. Everything was just that simple for her. You want something, you make it yours. “I love these tools, but I couldn't listen to this shit sober. I have no idea how you're doing it.”

“My chaperone'll kill me.”

“Just say you're going to the bathroom. I'll chat him up. He'll never know.”

I hesitated, looked over at Josh. Under the lights his face shone like a freaking altar boy's, serene while my insides churned. I thought about the psychology class I'd taken the year before, when we discussed nature and nurture. Josh and me, we'd both been raised the same way. We'd had the same parents, anyway, though sometimes I thought that didn't mean what it should. My mother had always loved Josh better.

If we'd basically had the same nurture, the only thing that was different was the nature. Who we'd been, from the moment we sucked in our first breath. The thought was actually kind of freeing. I'd never been stupid enough to believe that all people
were equal. Some were just plain better than others. And if Josh was born better than me, if good was part of his DNA, that wasn't my fault. I couldn't help it.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” I announced in the middle of the next song.

“That's cool.” Eden grinned. Josh didn't say anything.

The inside of the bar was dark, and damp with humidity. There was an old video game machine in the corner that spewed alien sounds. A few guys circled a pool table. The bartender didn't bother asking for my ID. I ordered two shots of whisky. Quicker. Fewer calories. I'd run tomorrow, I promised myself. I waited until he turned to watch TV before I took them. Then I ordered one more, and took that, too.

I sagged on the barstool and waited for the warmth to take over. I hated Josh for making me do this in secret. Why couldn't he be like everybody else's older brother, getting me my first fake ID, or at least pretending not to know? I stared at the TV above the bar for a while. The Braves were playing some other team. I watched the ball bounce like a pearl against the green.

When I felt loose enough, I slid off the stool and went back outside. Eden was sitting in my seat, gesturing wildly at Josh. He was laughing like a moron.

“Move, bitch. You stole my seat.” I grinned, nudging her foot with mine.

“Stevie,” Josh said, like a dad.

“Jesus, Josh. Take a break or something, okay?” I said.

I felt his eyes on me. When Eden didn't move, I sat on the very edge of her seat, my body angled toward them. The lights above us were a little hazier, Eden's outline liquid.

“So I'm having some people over after this.” Eden stretched out in my chair. “You guys down?”

“I don't think we can.” Josh was still staring at me. “We should get home.”

“I'm down, for sure.” I stretched out next to her and knocked my sneaker against her sandal. “Sounds fun.”

“
Ste
vie,” Josh said. “I don't think we should. I think you need to get some rest.”

I slid down low in Eden's chair and blinked at the glowing jewels above me. “And I think
you
need to chill the fuck out,
Joshua
.”

“No need to fight, children,” Eden said playfully. “Especially not over my little old party.”

“Stevie, seriously.” Josh's voice got quiet and pleading. “Let's go home. I think you need to get to bed. I'll walk you back.”

My face burned under the lights. “This is bullshit,” I snapped. I jumped out of my chair, stumbling over a crack in the patio where green peeked through. “Leave me alone.”

“Easy, tiger.” Eden reached out and wrapped her hand around my wrist.

“I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm just leaving, okay? I'm sorry about”—I flapped my hand in Josh's direction without looking at him—“this.” I whipped my head around, looking for the exit. “I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Stevie.” Josh reached for me, but I slapped him away.

“Get off, Josh.” I could hear my words slurring together, but I didn't care anymore. “I'm going home, and you'd better not follow me.”

Head down, I charged into the street, weaving around wasted frat boys on every block. I hated Josh for humiliating me this
way. It was my life, didn't he get that? My life, my call. He wasn't my dad. He didn't have a say.

“Stevie!” Josh's voice found its way to me, but I kept walking. The whole way home, I heard him, calling my name again and again. I never turned around.

“Stevie! Stevie.” When I open my eyes, Ashley is there. “Ohmygod, when I couldn't find you I got totally freaked out.” She leans over me, her wet hair dripping through my sheet and dotting my chilled skin.

“I'm here. It's fine. I just . . . couldn't sleep.” I slam my notebook shut.

“Me neither,” she chirps. “But the closets look great. Wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay. I'm coming.” I follow her inside. “But then I think you need to get some sleep, okay? I think we both need to get some sleep.”

I watch her scurry down the hallway, and I wish Josh were here. Wish I could just snap my fingers and bring him back for a second. I'd ask him what to do, and he'd know, because he knew how to take care of people in a way I never did. Or at least he knew how to try.