If (18 page)

I wasn’t going to fall, I just wasn’t. In fact, teetering on the edge was the definition of living. This roof was mine, everything that mattered was here in this moment—my art and my girl. I had so much to do, there was no way I could die. I could fall off this roof and hit the floor and I still wouldn’t die, because I couldn’t. I wasn’t finished here.

I laughed at first when she freaked. I thought she would think it was funny once she got over the surprise. Then I wobbled a bit, trying to make her laugh since she didn’t the first time.

She told me to get down, and I balanced on one leg with my arms out to the sides to show Bird I had it. Then I wobbled some more to tease her.

She started to cry. I didn’t understand. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I was just trying to show her how she made me feel like I could rule the world, how I could conquer anything.

I jumped down and tried to reach out for her.

She asked me if I was crazy. She said it wasn’t funny. She stormed away from me.

I didn’t understand. I did this whole thing for her and she was crying. I tried to kiss her, but she pushed me away. She said what I did scared her. She said she cared about me.

The ever-burning torch of energy running through me felt like it was being snuffed. Her tears were extinguishing the flames.

For the first time in days, I started to feel a little tired. As pink sun rose, her sniffles peppered the skies with sharp black angles. I tasted licorice. Millions of microscopic needle points poked my fingertips as if they had fallen asleep.

I thought we were having fun, but she said she was done and she wanted to go back inside and sleep.

I didn’t understand.

ASH

WE WERE SUPPOSED
to watch the sun rise together, but instead she cried and her tears darkened the pink and orange glow of the sun coming up on the horizon. I watched her sleep next to me. I felt restless, wanting to jump out of my skin. I had lost track of the last time I had slept for more than a couple of hours, if at all. At first, that restlessness felt refreshing, like a superpower had been unveiled, but now it felt like an inescapable itch. I wanted to sleep and forget how I upset Bird.

I just wanted to make her laugh. She said she was fine, that she was just tired and wanted to rest and to never do that again. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how she begged me to come off that ledge, as I kept trying to make her smile, and it only made her more panicked.

The dead silence of the room is interrupted by drops of water. I look over at the source of the sound. The window. Water is leaking in through the seams. There is a single crack in the pane and I watch in confusion as the crack spreads in different directions and then the window bursts.

Shards of glass cut into my skin as a violent rush of water floods the apartment. We have to get out of here. I shake Bird, but she won’t open her eyes. She is bleeding. She has no lavender aura. She is dull. I scream her name, but she lies limp. I have to carry her out, but I can’t move my legs. The apartment is filling fast, and I scream for help. I watch as water overtakes Bird first, and I scream for her. Then the water consumes me and I scream again. This time there is no sound, but agitated water erupts from my mouth: foamy, white bubbles.

I feel arms grip me and pull me away from her. I try to take her with me. And then I lose consciousness.

I open my eyes again. And this time I can’t move at all. I feel like I am being gripped in a powerful hug, but as I move, I hear the gentle clinking of buckles. I look down, and I’m hugging myself, forced to do so by a white jacket. I look around to get my bearings, but I am in a room with just a tiny window at the door. I use the padded wall to slide up to my feet, and I call out through the tiny window. Then I slam against the door, over and over, until my shoulder is numb. The room is small, and the water will be coming after me. I need to get out of this small room. If the water won’t drown me, this jacket and these walls will suffocate me. I hate fucking walls. An invisible hand clenches my throat. There’s not enough air in this room. The walls are keeping it out. And then the ceiling and walls begin to come closer from every direction. The hand grips tighter.

I jumped up, panting as I looked for Bird. I had to make sure she was alive, that the water hadn’t consumed her, but she wasn’t in the bed. My head hurt like hell, a hangover I didn’t earn. I was so tired, only waking up because of the nightmare.

“Bird?” I called out, my voice full of rasp and confusion. There was no answer. I stood up drunkenly and walked over to the kitchen. There was a note.

Ash,

I had to go to work and I didn’t want to wake you up. You need the sleep. I’ll be working until 11pm.

- B.

I searched for any object that would reveal the time. It was two in the afternoon.
Shit.
I remembered the night before. I remembered the roof and how I scared her. I knew her tears and the much needed sleep broke my high. I reached into my bag for my pills, I had been taking a lower dose for several weeks, the lithium sometimes made my hands shake and lowering the dose almost removed that side effect entirely. I was enjoying my painting so much more that way. Even at the lower dose, my synesthesia was dampened, but at least I had better control over the brush. I told myself this is what Bird wanted—for me to love creating art again. She pulled me in, she got me the materials, she made me remember that lost love. For years, I had been trying to avoid the temptation, and stew in my guilt and pain, tucked away in the lonely alleyway on 5
th
. But there was no willpower that existed on earth to resist the feelings I had around Bird. It was like blaming someone for not having the willpower to resist drinking water or breathing air.

The pills were the only thing that kept me from riding the recent high all the way. They dulled my synesthesia, and they also dulled the high.

I swallowed back an extra pill. Maybe that would stop the inevitable low that I felt approaching from deep in my gut, just like that feeling right before the big drop on a rollercoaster.
Mood stabilizer my ass.

I trudged to the sink and downed a glass of water. My stomach twisted in hunger. I should go grab food, but I blew all my money. I had maybe a couple of dollars left.
Fucking typical.

Though my stomach growled, I didn’t want to eat more of Bird’s food. I didn’t want her to provide for me, but fuck I was hungry.

I slammed a fist down on the counter in frustration. The money I had saved for months was gone. I had saved it so I never would have to starve or eat that shitty soup kitchen food. I could call my brother now, but I didn’t like to ask. I only took when he left me some money on the kitchenette counter in the guest house. Those paintings were some of my best work in a long time, but they wouldn’t feed me. I had all these grand plans in my head for many of them, but now, all those plans seemed like childish fantasies. Now I was looking at reality: I was broke, I was hungry, I had no way of obtaining any money, my head hurt, my stomach hurt. The only thing that felt good was that I knew I could see Bird later. Except that I made her cry last night in the final throes of my high. I would have to find a way to explain to her that I was just kidding. I know it seemed like it was cruel taunting, but I was just trying to ride the wave of indestructibility I felt when I was around her.

I found the crackers, cheese and juice I got for our picnic and I devoured every last crumb.

In the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of my face and torso in the mirror. I had definitely lost some weight this past week. Even my face had thinned a bit. Bird brought me food from her job, but nothing ever appealed. Food is a low priority when you are feeling invincible. I couldn’t remember the last full meal I had eaten. I couldn’t remember a lot. My memories swirled like a fast merry-go-round.

I needed to get out of the apartment. The weight of the walls around me slowly increased so that I felt they could collapse and crush me at any moment. I needed to get the fuck out of this place and figure out how I was going to ride the low. I didn’t want Bird to see this. It was pathetic and sad and she didn’t need that in her life.

ASH

I used a last resort to get some money: plasma donation. It gave me just enough cash to get a cab to Miller’s and a small bite to eat. My goal was to slip into the guest house and do some laundry, maybe find some food in the fridge there. Honestly, I was too tired to make any complicated plans. I was just trying to get there and then figure it out.

When I got there at about five, no one was home. That was a relief. I didn’t feel like small-talking with Ella. She was polite, but her resentment simmered just beneath the surface. She married the good brother, the successful brother, and I was just an anchor on him. I was the black sheep. I was using him. I was the bad guy.

I slipped into the guest house and I didn’t even bother to turn on the light. Any plans to be productive ceased to exist and I slid onto the bed and slammed hard into a deep sleep.

A voice murmuring in the distance awoke me. As I rolled over moaning from the headache and disorientation, I realized it was Ella. She wasn’t loud, but she had this pitch to her voice that seemed to carry through any solid surface.

I didn’t know how long I had slept, but I was still tired and there was still light out. Tired isn’t the right word. Exhausted isn’t either. Because this wasn’t just a case of lack of physical rest. I wanted to disappear into the nonexistence of sleep. There, I wouldn’t feel pain, self-loathing, or despair. I would feel nothing. My brain was changing in a way that isn’t fully understood yet. It was taking me for a ride and I had to choice but to hang on. The first part of the ride was fast, wild, and frenzied. The second part was treacherous, slow, and arguably the most dangerous.

I was sick. It wasn’t a sickness that could be seen or measured with a thermometer, but it was a physical illness nonetheless.

My first thought was of Bird. I looked at the clock. It was ten in the morning. I had slept the entire afternoon and night and it felt like a nap. I trudged to the fridge and found some basics I could shovel into my mouth. I hoped a solid meal might help ease the lethargy.

Since I never switched on the light, I realized that Miller and Ella probably didn’t even know I was here, and for now, I was okay with that.

After throwing some toast in the toaster and pulling out a package of turkey cold cuts, I went to my phone. It was dead and shit, I left the charger at Bird’s place. I felt a pinch of panic. Did Bird think I left because of what happened the night before? I meant to leave her a note to tell her I would be at my brother’s, but my mind was so cloudy from the hunger and exhaustion that I forgot.
What a fuck up.

I wracked my mind for her phone number, but I never had a good look at it. She put it in my phone herself and as far as I knew, her number was “Birdie,” which was what I saw every time she called or I dialed her.
I suck.

It was Wednesday, and I knew she usually did a morning class and had a lag in the afternoon before working at the restaurant. If I left in time, I could get to her.
Fuck, I have no money.

I opened the drawers in the guest house where Miller sometimes left me a twenty, but there was just loose change. He wasn’t expecting me. I knew by now he’d be at work. I wouldn’t be able to get back to Bird’s until, at the earliest, this evening. She would think I had just disappeared again, didn’t call her, and she would think it was because she cried. I fucking made her cry.

I thought that maybe in the main house, Miller might have a charger I could use for my phone. That would remedy this whole situation. Then I could eat, sleep some more, and make it back to Bird’s later. After inhaling two sandwiches, I slid the glass door open and stumbled out of the dark guest house like it had just given birth to me. Shielding my eyes from the sun’s assault, I trudged towards the pool, which was on the way from the guest house to the main house.

Ella’s voice grated at my throbbing temples. She was engaged in conversation, but I could only hear her voice, like she was on a phone. I braced for small talk with her.