Page 62 of Heavy
There would be no risk of me breaking up the family. I’d free my brother from having to come back, if he was ever planning to. My uncle wouldn’t be able to do the things he was doing to me anymore. I think my parents would be happy again.
The block of steak knives that are sitting beside the sink have my attention.
Most people talk about taking pain pills, an entire bottle, and just falling asleep to not wake up again. That would be less painful than stabbing myself.
Absentmindedly, I head upstairs to my parents’ bathroom. My dad suffers from a bad back and makes jokes about being on ‘drugs’ daily to help with the pain. I’ve seen him carrying around the bottle, so when I open the cabinet, it’s easy to spot the one that says “OxyContin”.
I pull it out and look at it, before opening it.
Hopefully it isn’t instant, I’d like to call Eamon and at least tell him goodbye. I said bye to Mom, not Dad, but he probably won’t care.
Taking the cup by the sink, I put it under the faucet, turn the water on, and fill it up. The moment it’s filled, I put the bottle of medicine to my lips and tilt it back, taking in a few pills before downing water.
Not bad, I don’t know why I’m not even scared. Should I be?
I repeat the action, over and over, until the bottle is empty. Placing both items down, I stare at myself briefly. I’m already dying, my heart just hasn’t stopped. That’s just the last piece of this.
Moving out of the bathroom, I walk to my room and grab the wireless phone before sitting at the edge of my bed. I dial my big brother’s number, knowing it by heart, and hoping that he picks up the phone.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hi, you’ve reached Eamon Byrne. If I didn’t answer, I’m probably too busy. Leave a message and I’ll get back to ya when I can.”
Beep.
I stay silent for a moment.
“Hey, big brother, it’s Ronan.” My eyes gloss over, and everything blurs. “I just wanted to call and see what you were up to. Let you know that I’ve missed you. That I’m sorry we’ve not seen each other in a while.” The warmth of my tears falling down my cheeks wash over me and I choke on a sob. “I just want you to know I love you, and I still look up to you, and get the chance to say goodbye.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.The line goes dead, but I just keep talking. “I wanted to go to more football games with you, maybe get to the Superbowl even though the tickets are expensive.
“You can still go, I give you permission.”
I’m not sure if it’s the medicine or just my own fatigue, but I feel tired. I lay down with the phone still to my ear. “Take pictures and put them up to the sky, I’ll watch for them.
“I love you. I’m sorry I’m not strong like you. I hope you miss me…”
I don’t say anymore, and cry until I’ve fallen asleep, hoping that I don’t wake again.
20
Calista
Heliterallysteppedoverme, leaving me on my knees in the garage.
Do I blame him? No. But does it hurt? Absolutely. It’s not just my heart that aches, but my head and everything in between.
I spread my legs and sit on the cold concrete, turning my hands palm-up as I search for a way to make this right. How to fix this. I’ve always been the one to mend what’s broken.
I dragged my mother out of the situation she was in, and I’m still paying the price for it. From the memories they left me with to the ones they’re still creating.
This cabin, sure it was just an excuse to get here, but it’s a metaphor to my fucked-up life.
Now, Ronan.
