Another quiet chuckle leaves me. “I mean, yeah. Every day, I wonder if I’ll be strong enough to handle whatever bullshit life throws my way. I think about what it might take to push me to the point that the only answer I have faith in is at the bottom of a bottle.”
“What do you think it would take?” Darcy asks.
I consider the question.
Years earlier, it would have only taken one inconvenience to get me there. One inconvenience gave me the right to need a fix. That’s what it was there for, right? To help you forget that life fucking sucks sometimes.
“Feeling truly alone again. Feeling like life is too painful to go through without a sedative. Like it isn’t worth waking up another day because the future might end in disaster, so why prolong the inevitable? Why put myself through it?”
“One more sunset,” Darcy says.
“One more fucking sunset,” I say, repeating the phrase both of us seem to live by.
I push my hair off my shoulder and lean over my knees again, feeling Darcy’s intent eyes on me as I collect my thoughts.
“Grief, guilt, even injustices… It never seemed to bother people the way it bothered me,” I go on. “I always felt it too deeply, for too long. Everyone else could just go on… I fixated.Obsessed. I felt guilty for living while they were suffering or when they died. Everyone else was out here living so why couldn’t I? Why did I feel like I had to suppress my emotions just to take my next breath?”
Darcy’s lips press together in a thin line, and they lean over their knees, mirroring my stance. “It’s okay to feel that. But remember, some of those people who you think have it together probably have their own ways of dealing with that pain—dissociation, sabotage, rage—maybe they even go through the stages of grief like it’s something out of a textbook… But you can’t compare yourself to them. They don’t make textbooks for people like us. What works for them is just that, for them. And for us, it’s never going to be fair that we have to work harder to keep it together. It’s never going to be fair that the seemingly harmless coping mechanisms they use without thinking are what might help us hit rock bottom again. One drink, one smoke, one hit—”
“Just to take the edge off,” I mutter.
“Exactly,” Darcy agrees. “One isn’t enough for us. The edge will forever be out of reach. And that part right there will never be your fault.”
I glance sideways at them, almost smirking. “How many times do you think you’ll have to tell me that before it sinks in?” I ask.
Darcy smiles. “At least one more time. You can’t dwell on the things you can’t change, remember?”
I scoff, heel relentlessly tapping the sidewalk. “God, grant me the fucking serenity,” I mutter, recalling the prayer so many of our meetings have begun with.
Darcy laughs. “I know you hate that.”
“You know, I really do, but it makes ninety percent of those fuckers happy, so I’m not yucking it up for anyone else. Good for them for having something like that that they can cling to. It’s just not for me.”
“No, that’s what the music is there for, right?” Darcy asks.
“Hell yes,” I sigh. “People always say they feel their god all around them. So do I. Music is everywhere. There’s a beat in everything. It’s in the wind, our own bodies, throughout nature… I hear it, and it reminds me why I’m still alive.” I turn in the seat toward Darcy. “There’s a song I’ve been working on today. And it’s just like nasty chords and beats, but… do you know what I hear at its heart?”
Darcy’s head moves a fraction. “What?”
“I hear my mother’s heart monitor. I hear the steady increase in rate as I was yelling at her. I hear it slowing as she began to lose consciousness, and finally the flat line. I’m building and building on that every time I get out my drumsticks. And I know, as fucked up as that is, that that’s the progress I’ve made. I thought I was going to die after losing her—Iwantedto die—and now the noise of her death note is fueling a creative streak instead of the pit I used to spiral into.”
“Pain and art always seem to mimic each other,” Darcy says. “Look at all the artists who produced masterpieces during their worst times. You’re putting your pain into what you love and using it as an outlet, Bonnie. There’s nothing wrong with that. I might even argue it’s ahealthycoping mechanism.”
I gag. “Well, that’s disgusting.”
Darcy chuckles at me. “You’ve done the work, Bon. You have an amazing support system around you. I want you to remember that. You’re never alone. It’s okay to let someone else in. Even if things don’t work out… You can handle it.”
My phone goes off again, and I glance at it.
UNKNOWN
You’re a liar, Bonnie.
Every positive word Darcy’s just said goes awry, and the same feeling I’d felt earlier while texting my stalker invades my tense muscles. My gaze lifts and darts around the park. There are more than a few people skating with hoods and hats on, and I know it’d be impossible to pick anyone out of this crowd.
I suddenly wish Gemma was here for a different reason—just so I could kiss her and make sure my stalker saw it.
I wonder if that might make her want to punish me or Gemma for it.
