“I know there’s something wrong,” she says, and she takes another sip of her water as she studies me over the rim of the glass. Firmly, she asks again “What’s wrong, Tyler?”
“It’s just…” I try, but I can’t get the words out. My shoulders sink with defeat. I don’t have the guts to tell her. I’m scared to.
“Just what?” she presses.
“This time last year,” I start, but it’s all I can say. I can’t tell her that I was an idiot, that I almost killed myself because I was searching for a high that would get me through another day.
“You passed out,” she says for me, and my eyes flick back up from the floor to meet hers. So, shedoesalready know, and she is definitely sober now, becausethisis the Eden I know. The one who tells methe truth straight up. “Rachael told me. You passed out because of the drugs.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and get to my feet, stuffing my hands into my pockets as I lean back against the wall. “Just drink your water,” I mumble.
She tilts the glass of water to her lips again and quickly finishes it, then puts the glass back on the bedside table before she slides out of the bed and stands up. She takes several wary steps toward me and quietly asks, “Why do you do it?”
Tonight of all nights, I really don’t want to go through this again with her. She is always pushing for an answer to that question, but it’s an answer I’m just not emotionally strong enough to give her. “Why are you asking me about this again?” I mutter as I throw my hands up out of my pockets. It’s such a sensitive subject to me that already my temper is rising.
“Because I want the truth,” Eden says.
“I already gave you the goddamn truth,” I snap at her, and I end up balling my hands into fists by my sides. I am fighting hard against the anger that is brimming. “I do what I do to distract myself.”
“From what?” she asks, but she raises her voice, unable to hide her frustration. I think this is what she has been trying to figure out the entire summer, and she isn’t going to stop until she finds out the truth. “That’s what I want to know, Tyler. I want to know why you need all these bullshit distractions.”
“Distractions make everything easier,” I hiss under my breath. I was so calm before, so in control, and I hate that I am now losing that. I’m not angry at her though. I never will be. I only get angry when I’m forced to face the truth.
“Makes what easier?”
I’m grinding my teeth together as I go quiet, and I look her straight in the eye. “Stop, Eden,” I say slowly, my voice firm. I hope she can see the plea in my eyes. I really don’t want to do this.
“Stop what?” she asks, taking another step toward me.
“Stop trying to figure me out,” I say, but my pulse is already racing. I look down into her eyes, and I pray that she will care about me enough to not put me through this. If she figures out the truth about me, she will know that I’m broken inside.
“Tyler,” she says, “49ers or Chargers?”
No fucking way did she just change the subject like that. From asking me why I get high to asking me which football team I support… Wow. I will take anything I can get though. “What kind of a dumb question is that? 49ers.”
Eden’s face falls and she widens her eyes at me, parting her lips. “I saw a photo in Dean’s house,” she says slowly, her voice low, husky, “of you and him and your dad before a 49ers game. If you’re a fan, how come you looked like you didn’t want to be there?”
I stare back at her, my expression frozen. I know exactly what photo she is talking about. It’s the same photo I spotted in Dean’s garage earlier this week, the photo that triggered such a turmoil of painful emotions in me. “Dean was supposed to take that down,” I tell her. I don’t know what else to say.
“Answer the question,” she says, her voice demanding. “What was wrong that day?”
She isn’t ever going to let this go. I wonder if she looked closely enough into my eyes in that picture to see the pain I was in. It was a much bigger pain than any injury Dad could ever inflict on me. I was heartbroken that night. I felt worthless. I was breaking down inside.
I can’t look at Eden right now, because those same emotions arehitting me all over again at full force. I am breaking down now too. I walk away from her and pick up her empty glass from the bedside table and tighten my hand around it, squeezing it hard to release some of the fury that is taking me over. I pause by the window, looking out again at all of the lights. My life is a mess.
“What is it with you, Eden?” I murmur. I keep my head down, my eyes closed, my back to her. “You’re not supposed to figure me out. No one is.”
“Tyler,” Eden whispers, and my name sounds desperate on her tongue. Slowly, I look back at her over my shoulder, and her eyes are gentle but intense as she stares back at me, her hand pressed to her chest. “Trust me. Please.”
I look back down at the floor and close my eyes again. She wants to know so badly, but I am terrified of letting her in to my biggest secrets. I have never told anyone before. I have been holding the weight of this secret for five years, and I just can’t let it go. It has become part of me. “Don’t make me tell you.”
Eden edges her body in between mine and the window. She moves close to me, gently placing her hand on my chest, feeling the erratic thumping of my heart. Her gaze meets mine. “Please,” she whispers.
And I can see it in those sparkling hazel eyes of hers that she cares about me, that she is desperate to know the truth so that she can understand me better. I have always kept the truth about my dad a secret from everyone, because I have worried people would never look at me the same. I didn’t want pity and I didn’t want sympathy. I wanted to move on, to show that I was stronger than everything that I had been through, that Dad wouldn’t define me. I don’t want to leave myself vulnerable again, but there is something about Eden that is reassuring, like she’ll make sure everything is okay, that I’ll be okay.
“My dad’s an asshole,” I whisper and my words cut me. My voice is cracked and my heart is beating so fast that I think I may suffer a heart attack. I’m really about to do this. I’m really about to tell Eden the truth. “I told everyone he’s in jail for GTA. That’s not true.” I can’t look at her now, not when I’m about to say the words that will tear me up inside. My jaw is clenched tight and I stare at the wall, blinking fast to stop myself from welling up. Then, so quietly it’s almost inaudible, I say, “He’s in jail for child abuse.”
All of the color drains out of Eden’s face, and I close my eyes. My heart is sinking as I hear her sharp intake of breath. “You?” she squeaks. I nod, but I never open my eyes. They are stinging; my throat is tightening. Eden exhales that same breath of air. “Jamie and Chase?”
