I regretted it. The second we got into town and the people that knew what’d happened stopped to offer their condolences or the ones that pretended they hadn’t seen us because they didn’t know what to say.
My friends were in Starbucks and I watched through the window as they laughed and messed around, throwing wadded up napkins in empty coffee cups. A few weeks ago that was me, too. Every one of them had tried calling or coming over and I ignored them or sent them away every time. I couldn’t do it.
My best friend, Sophie, the one that I did still talk to because she didn’t mention Dad, knowing I didn’t want to talk, looked over and stood up. Shit, I hadn’t wanted any of them to see me.
I felt like running to the bookshop next door to find Mum, but Sophie was already halfway to the door and I didn’t want to hear Mum having a conversation about my dad with the lady that owns the shop.
“Tegan, hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
“You want to join us?”
“No, thanks. I’m here with Mum and Ava.”
“Okay, cool. You up for a party at Adam’s tonight? His parents are on their annual South of France holiday.”
I didn’t want to say yes but I kept thinking about what Ava said about getting out and taking my mind off what’d happened. “Sure, I’m in.”
“Great! I’ll get Adam to pick you up, too.”
“It’s at Adam’s house.”
“I know, but I don’t like to walk and he’s too nice.” She laughed and tucked her short, dark blonde hair behind her ear. “Pick you at up eight.”
“Thanks, Soph.”
She grinned. “No worries. Bye, hun.”
Mum and Ava came out a few minutes later. “Lunch now?” Mum asked.
“Sure. Is it okay if I go to a party at Adam’s tonight?” I asked.
“Of course. I think it’ll be good for you to spend some time with your friends.”
“Thanks. Where’re we going to eat?”
“That place Dad loved?” Ava suggested.
The positivity I felt just a few minutes ago was replaced with dread. “Not there,” I said, practically snapping. “Um, what about the pizza place? Mum, you said you wanted to try that pesto base next time we were in town.”
Mum put her arm around me and I hated it. I wanted the comfort but I didn’t want it to hurt. When she hugged me she cried and I felt even guiltier for not being able to.
***
Adam’s annual parents-are-gone party was the same every year. People would drink far more than they could handle and end up passed out on the floor, sofa or bed. I’d had a few every time but never to that extent. But this year I was on my sixth and the alcohol combined with not being at home with my grieving family and seeing Dad’s stuff everywhere, meant I was feeling good.
I sat on the bench outside getting some fresh air. My head felt fuzzy but in the best way possible. Nothing hurt, nothing was hard.
Adam’s older brother, Ian, sat beside me. “Hey, how’re you doing?”
“Good, you?” I replied.
He nodded, swigging on his bottle of brandy. Down on the lawn some girl that I didn’t recognise slapped another girl and chucked her drink on her. That didn’t usually happen at Adam’s parties.
“What happened there?” I asked.
He shrugged. “She doesn’t like that Sammy has the same shoes or some shit like that. They were bitching each other out about it earlier.”
They were wearing the same shoes but so what. “She’s a bit of a bitch,” I said.
“Yeah, but that’s intentional, no one can hurt the bitch.”
No one can hurt the bitch.
“What’re you looking all pissed off over?”
“Nothing,” I replied. I was going to be okay now. “I need more drink.”
He handed the bottle over and I took a swig. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever tasted but that didn’t stop me going back for more.
“Keep drinking,” Ian said. “It makes everything ten times better.”
“I never believed that before now.” I took another long swig and winced.
“You want to know what else helps?”
“Sure.” I would do anything to stop it hurting so much.
Smiling, he leant in and I was completely unprepared for his lips. Stunned, I sat still for a second until I felt the comfort I craved with none of the feeling. Ian meant nothing to me and I clearly meant nothing to him because he didn’t even take me to his room. I let him kiss me. I let him take me to his car at the side of the house. I let him pull up my skirt.
It hurt. It was my first time and he either didn’t know that or didn’t care but it didn’t matter. I was close to someone without it hurting, emotionally hurting anyway. I closed off, shut everything away and for the first time since Dad died I felt absolutely nothing at all.
Ian was right. Alcohol and sex took it away.
***