The color from Andrea’s face has drained. She stares blankly in my direction. My roommate is here, but not really all there. I think I broke my friend. I was so used to her jumping in and trying to solve everything; her shock was almost cathartic. Right now, I don't need to be told what to do. What I lack is the occasional freedom to unload the mental baggage I’m lugging around. Her simply listening… hearing my words is more than enough, even if I did sound certifiable. The air felt thicker somehow as all my truths wafted out in the open. Taking air in felt taxing. As I waited for her to say anything, I panicked internally. Would she retreat further away? More than she already has been?
“I need a drink,” she finally declares after long moments pass.
“Please… allow me.” I rise from the couch, zip past her to the kitchen, and locate the bottle opener from the drawer next to the stove. Clutching the bottle of wine from Eamon, I pop the cork before pulling down two glasses from the cabinet. I then proceed to pour the deep red liquid to the brim of BOTH glasses.
Shock and concern are plastered across her face. “Did I miss that you’re drinking now too?” she guesses, sitting upon the dining chair with a heavy thud.
I set both glasses onto the table and sat before the very vice I swore off three years ago. I’ve never been into drugs, and I barely ever drank besides the occasional long island iced tea, but when my brother unexpectedly died… I felt compelled to make a commitment. More to him than anyone else. Even in death,I didn’t want to disappoint him. I watched what Theo’s passing did to my parents… Mom and Dad sold everything, moved away, and withdrew. They mourned, but they did it behind closed doors. It’s like my parents didn’t want to talk about it. I may have been an adult in my first year of college, but I’ve never been more unsure of myself. That year was a whirlwind, but the decisions I made were to keep me safe. To survive another day. It seems almost silly that I did things back then to appease others. No drugs or alcohol for my parents and brother. Even staying with Brodi as long as I did was probably, so I didn’t disappoint him.
I’m so tired! So fed up with worrying how my fuck ups will be perceived. I’ve known it all along, somewhere deep down. He didn’t kill himself. It wasn’t an overdose and after these past few weeks, I would like a goddamn drink.
“Today seems like a good day to start,” I decisively retort. Causing the corner of her mouth to curve slightly upward. Rotating the steam of the glass between my thumb and pointer finger, I watch as the maroon liquid sloshes along the edges of the glass.
Andrea extends her arm over the table, ceasing the spin of my glass as she places her hand on mine. “Are you certain this is what you want?” Her tense body leans forward as if toying with the idea of snatching it from me.
“My brother didn’t overdose. I made that commitment, uninformed. Someone took my brother from me. Now, I have a new promise. Find out what happened to my brother.” I watch as her body visibly relaxes, and her hand withdraws to her side once more. “I deserve a drink.” I say with steely nerves, ready for any disagreement she may be ready to throw my way.
She shakes her head and actually snickers. “No, it’s not about that. You just took cold medicine, you're not supposed to drink,nitwit.” There she is. There’s my overbearing best friend. I’ve missed her.
“Just one glass, then,” I agree.
We say nothing as we sit across from one another, periodically sipping from our oversized glasses. The last time I was truly intoxicated was the summer after high school graduation. Never a party girl by any means, however, it felt freeing to be out from the watchful eye of my family. Mom and Dad became super paranoid about my safety as I became older. If I wasn’t meeting with a therapist, I was to report my whereabouts, checking in often if I wasn’t with my brother or at school. I sometimes wish I had other parents. Ones who weren’t so uptight. If they just spent more time with us, they’d see that we were fine, but they worked so much. It seemed stupid they always had to know where we were, but never tell us their agendas. They were different when we were younger, more carefree, and happier. My brother and I rarely saw them by the time my senior year in high school rolled around. One shrink told me, stop holding back my emotions. Let them pour out of you and free yourself of that weight. Well, if I actually emanated what was going on in my head, they probably would have sent me to a facility with padded walls. Little girls aren’t meant to have wild, depraved thoughts.
I tried journaling when I was younger. Just my luck that I would forget to put the notebook back under my mattress before my mom came into my room. Naturally curious, she read it. For the next year, I was forced to endure an extra day of counseling each week. Apparently, documenting fantasies about being restrained, kidnapped, and fucked till you lose control of all bodily functions, isn’t considered “normal” hormonal urges. Good grief, when I think about it, I pity my poor mother, but that troubled teenager was the most honest version of myself to date. The rebellious phase is a balancing act of coming into your trueself and learning what’s socially acceptable, while trying not to be too harshly judged by others. I wonder what my parents think of me now. Are they proud of me yet or will my mother always see me as some damaged thing?
When Theo left us, I felt my conflicted, ‘adolescent self’ trying to claw its way out. Already feeling so broken and lost, I desired safety and consistency in a world that seemed to be perpetually unpredictable. Starting by taking away anything that inhibited my ability to remain intact, like booze or narcotics. It was the one last component; I felt as though I had a hold on. Also, I didn’t want to dishearten my mother. Not again. I’ll never be Theo, but maybe… Who am I kidding, they’re the ones who left. I’d love to know why I still seek approval in every facet of my life.
When Brodi crossed my path, he made me feel appreciated. I hoped he could be that special someone to me. The one who accepted me as is. No returns. No refunds. He was the one to approach me. In a strip club, of all the places. I was a part of the bachelorette crew, rampaging through Boston’s finest establishments, like Cha-Cha’s. That friend is now divorced. Maybe having the starting line of your marriage with tits and ass, should have been some kind of red flag… but I was giddy over Brodi’s pursuit. He wasn’t like the other guys I’ve been with… Tattooed, muscular, oozing confidence, and rode motorcycles. It was like edging myself with danger. I was helpless against him. Andrea wasn’t a fan right off the bat, and I’m pretty sure Theo would have hated him, if he had been around to meet my boyfriend. As if I was a defective faucet, I allowed who I was to slowly trickle out. Drip by drip. It was fun at first. He took me out. Fucked me in exciting places and even introduced me to his friends once. Over time, I opened the valve more, needing connection on a deeper level. I wanted him to know my desires. Learn the real me. In spite of me pouringmyself out, while grappling with who I was and who I should be, he withdrew. Sure, he stayed with me, but I felt more like a commodity. We saw less and less of each other as time went on. I think the turning point was when I got my vertical clitoral hood pierced. I always wanted it, but I could tell he didn’t like it. He said he liked his womannatural, which was a crock of shit. I’ve seen his search history. Nothing was natural about anything he was viewing. I was crushed, but for some reason I stayed. I also kept the piercing. Looking back, I think it was my way of saying, “fuck you,” don’t tell me what to do with my body or how to be.
As each month passes, since Brodi up and disappeared, I have clarity. Like I was caught in a haze, unable to see what was right in front of me. I deserve better, I gave it my all and he rarely showed up. I like me. Bedazzled pussy and all! I shouldn’t be ashamed of who I am, especially with someone who is supposed to be my partner. What I wouldn’t give to be able to go back and spend just an hour with that chaotic, teenage version of myself. Give her a glimpse of what is to come and ensure her that she will survive this.
With both glasses empty between us, Andrea is the first to fracture the still moments. “Who do you think did it?” Andrea’s finger runs along the mouth of the drained glass, smearing the glossy, mauve lip stain across its edge.
“I’m not sure,” I divulge. Honestly, I don’t even have a heading. My brother didn’t have any enemies. He wanted to work in journalism. From what I understood, everyone adored him. He was the golden child so to speak.
Andrea stands and disappears to her room temporarily. I was briefly worried she wouldn’t come back. Next thing I know, she’s rolling a whiteboard from her room.
“Where did that come from?”
She clicks the lock on the wheels and uncaps a dry eraser marker. “Closet,” she says, before scribbling words on the white,shiny surface.Theo, Eamon,andStalker.“Okay, we know Theo died almost three years ago.” She writesthree yearsunder his name. Andrea points the uncapped marker toward me. “When did you start working at The Black Sheep?”
I think for a moment, “Around six months ago.” I had just lost my job as the hotel receptionist. Star Mart didn’t pay enough; I needed that second job. Within a week I was offered the position at the bar. Connor was actually the one who handed me a flyer, when I was just happening by. It was Cassie who offered me a job on the spot. That’s why I thought she owned the bar, not Eamon.
“How about this stalker guy, when did that start?” Andrea inquires.
I look back through my phone’s calendar and messages. “I found the earbud less than a month ago.”
She steps back to admire the chicken scratch of notes across the board. It’s barely legible; she should have pursued a career as a doctor. “Wait!” She yelps.
I startle, because she’s not one to display sudden bursts of energy. I’m drained, too tired for jump scares.
Andrea looks at me. “Didn’t Brodi disappear right before you started working at the bar?”
I guess… Yeah. It is a really odd coincidence. It was a rough time for me. Having two jobs and keeping busy helped me get through the onset of his departure. “That’s right… I did start at The Black Sheep shortly after.”
She’s at the board feverishly annotating, like a professor that’s finally made some headway on that career halting equation. “You said Eamon and your stalker seem to have known Theo?”
I nod.
