Calder
The street ten stories down swayed below me, the promise of a hard smack of concrete and then blessed oblivion calling to me so sweetly. I didn't want to resist. I hoped I'd register at least a few seconds of unfathomable pain before I floated away. I deserved it. I didn't want a death that didn't include misery. Had she suffered? Had she called my name in the dark as the water covered her and then filled her lungs with burning, suffocating terror? A sob, a loud gulp of tortured breath, escaped my throat and I took another swig from the half empty bottle in my hand. It slid down my throat in a slow slide of fire. Fire.
"Calder." I heard Xander's voice behind me, low and full of fear. "Brother, give me your hand."
I shook my head back and forth swiftly and swayed precariously on the ledge where I sat. Just a small tilt forward, even the intention of a tilt, and I'd plunge to my death below. To her.
"No, Xander," I said, my words slurring slightly. I was drunk, but not too drunk that I couldn't think clearly enough. Or I thought so anyway.
"What are you doing, Calder?" Xander asked, sitting on the ledge a little ways down from where I was. I glanced over at him and squinted. His voice was even, but his eyes were filled with panic.
"I hate to do this to you, brother. But it hurts too damn much. It was my fault. I don't deserve to live," I said.
"Then why are you alive?" Xander asked, his voice smooth and gentle, like a lullaby. My mom used to sing me lullabies when I was a little kid and couldn't sleep. Of course, my mom had also stood by while my dad tried to set me on fire. But I wouldn't think of that. I couldn't. My shoulders sagged and I felt the wetness on my face as a breeze blew by.
"You know what I think? I think you're alive because you're meant to be alive. For some reason, you're meant to be here. You're the only person who made it out of Acadia that day. The only one. And I, for one, refuse to believe there's not some purpose to that. I refuse to believe you didn't reach your hand up through that god-awful wreck of water-covered destruction so I could pull you out of there. And I want to help you discover what that reason is, Calder. Take my hand again. Take my hand and let me help you."
I looked over at him, grief sweeping through me even more swiftly. I took another fiery sip of alcohol.
"You carried me for twenty miles on your back once," he said, his voice breaking at the end. "Twenty miles. And if you hadn't, I would have been at Acadia that horrific day, too. I would probably be dead now. Would you have left me that day? Did you leave me that day?"
I frowned at him. "No," I said. "Never."
"Then take my hand. Let me carry you. It's my turn. Don't deny me that. Whatever I have . . ."
"I know," I choked out. I bent my head forward and gave in to the anguish, my shoulders shaking in the silent sobs that wracked my body. When some of it had passed, I whispered miserably, "F*ck." I wiped my sleeve across my face and threw the bottle to the side. I should have gotten myself more drunk, but I didn't have a taste for the shit. "This life feels so damn long," I said after a minute.
"That's because you're hurting, and it seems like it won't ever get better."
"It doesn't get better. It never gets better."
"It will. You have to try. Calder, you have to try."
"I've been trying! For four months, I've been trying."
"It's going to take longer than four months. It just is."
I let out a deep breath and stared out at the sky beyond. It was full of fury, dark, rolling storm clouds moving closer. Soon the whole sky would break open just like me and the rain would fall.
We were both silent for a few minutes, my head swimming. "Any news on the identification of the other bodies?"
"No," Xander said. "You know I'll let you know if there is." Xander watched the news, listened to the reports about Acadia. I couldn't bring myself to.
I nodded my head.
"They still haven't mentioned anyone who made it out?" My voice cracked on the last word.
Xander shook his head, his expression filled with sympathy.
"The footsteps you saw in the mud . . ."
"No, brother. And that could have been . . . just, I don't know. Please, Calder. Take my hand."
I turned away, looking back out to the sky.
Xander watched me for a few minutes and then glanced back at the now-broken bottle of whiskey I'd thrown. "You can't keep numbing things if you want to move forward."
I straightened my spine slowly. "I don't drink to numb things," I said, meeting his eyes. I knew mine were half-lidded and swollen. "I drink because it makes me feel everything more deeply. I drink for the suffering."
Xander stared at me. "Gods above," he muttered, shaking his head. "Then even more reason to stop. You don't deserve that."
"Yeah," I choked out. "I do."
"It wasn't your fault, Calder. None of it was your fault."
I shook my head back and forth not able to form the words in my heart. It was my fault. She wasn't here because I hadn't been able to save her. I'd failed her. And I longed for her so desperately that some days I couldn't even move. The grief felt like it was crushing me, and the only escape I could think of was death. But what if . . .
"What if taking my own life brings me somewhere other than where she is?" I asked, my voice barely rising above the wind.
Xander was silent for a minute. "I don't know if that's how it works. I want to tell you it does so you'll come off this ledge, but you know I'd never lie to you, right? The truth is, I just don't know." He hung his head, but kept his eyes turned upward, glued to me. I looked away, back out toward the sky.
"Calder, I'm not going to say I know what you're feeling, but I'm missing people as well. And Eden was my friend, too."
I let out a harsh exhale and nodded my head. Xander had lost his parents, his sister, his brother-in-law, his friends . . . "I know."
"Let me help you. And please don't leave me totally alone. I'm not saying that to pile on more guilt. I'm just saying that because it's the gods' honest truth. I'd miss the hell out of you and I'd be alone. Please don't do that to me."
I looked over at him, the face that had always been a constant in my life since before I could remember. I breathed out a long, shuddery sigh and reached my hand out to him. He moved slowly, but gripped me so tightly that in that moment, I knew if I lunged myself over, he'd come with me. He wasn't going to let go. I felt the tears start flowing again and we sat that way for a minute, me hanging my head. Finally, I began turning as I let go of Xander's hand and swung my legs around, my feet landing on the solid roof now in front of me. Soft raindrops hit my face, as soft as a caress.
I crossed my arms over my knees, letting my head fall into them. And I cried. Xander moved closer and his hand gripped my shoulder, but he didn't say a word. The rain continued to fall, soaking the back of my T-shirt, running down my neck and mixing with my tears. After a while, my tears dried up and the rain had become nothing but a light mist in the air. I sat up. I stared unseeing at the door that led downstairs to our rat-hole apartment for a little while, and then let out a shaky breath. I was so tired. The alcohol mixed with the ache inside me made me want to sleep. And maybe tonight I could do it without the haunting dreams.
"You know what I'm gonna do tomorrow?" Xander asked.
I shook my head. "With you, there's no telling," I said, swiping my arm across my wet face.
Xander laughed. "There's my boy," he said and I could hear the love in his voice.
"I'm gonna stop into that art supply store I pass every day and I'm gonna buy you some supplies. Maybe painting would help. What do you think?"
I ran my hand back through my wet hair. "I don't know if I could," I said honestly. "It might hurt." I paused. "Then again, everything hurts."
"I'll get the supplies and let you decide, okay?" he said, gripping my shoulder again.
"We really can't afford art supplies," I said.
"Sure we can. I've been meaning to take off a few pounds anyway."
I let out what might have been an imitation of a chuckle and shook my head.
"Come on in," Xander said. "We have two cans of those beans you love so much."
"Oh, God," I said, grimacing, but when he stood, so did I, following him inside, away from the edge, away from Eden, but never away from the ache that lived in my soul and always, always would.