Even the thought of my niece has my heart squeezing painfully. Lana was taken too soon. She was a bright star in a pitch-black sky. A beacon of light… until her flame burned out. The one-year anniversary of her death is tomorrow, and I refuse to believe she’s been gone from this earth for that long.
I’ve never wanted kids. That life just never appealed to me, but when my sister-in-law gave birth to Lana, I knew I wanted to be a big part of her life. Be the non-judgement my mother was for me. Show her things and help her in ways I knew her parents never could because of their religious views and prejudices. I wanted so badly to make sure she wasn’t just another lost soul who felt like they didn’t belong.
I’m not sure when exactly I failed her, but I did. Maybe had I never left, she’d still be here. That’s a thought that has plagued me almost every single day since she died.
* * *
“Hey, you in here?”
A soft knock sounds at my bedroom door. I’ve been holed up in here for the last few hours, drinking and thinking, and part of me wants to ignore the knock. But I don’t. “Yeah. Come on in.”
The door pushes open, and my roommate, Nick, strolls in. He works at the old auto body garage I used to work at before I opened my own shop. It’s where we met. We’ve lived together for about a year and a half now. When I arrived in town, I rented a small studio for six months. The owner was selling the property and I knew I needed to find something more permanent. During that time, I found the job at the garage and met Nick, who coincidentally was looking for a roommate after he and his wife split up.
It worked out perfectly, and we vibe pretty well as roommates too. Neither of us is too much of a slob, we both know how to clean up after ourselves, and we’re respectful and give each other space. When I bought this house shortly after I bought the shop, it was a no-brainer to have him move in here, too.
“You just getting home?” I ask, sitting up on my bed with my back against the headboard.
“Yup. Went out to dinner after work with a woman I met at the garage.”
“How’d that go?”
“Eh.” He shrugs as he sits on the edge of my bed. “Not bad. Probably won’t go out again, but it was fun.”
Over the course of us living together, we’ve both tried our hand at dating—him more than me. It usually ends up an epic failure, but hey, at least we try.
Nick is a few years older than me, and up until four years ago, he was married to his high school sweetheart. We don’t talk a whole lot about what happened there, but from what I’ve gathered, they grew apart. The split seems like it was amicable.
He's got the dimples and the easy, carefree, flirty personality that the ladies love. He’s been in a couple semi-serious relationships, but for the most part, it’s random dinner dates here and there, like tonight.
Then there’s me.
If anyone were to ask Nick about my dating life—or lack thereof—he’d tell them I have commitment issues. That’s not necessarily true, though. I just enjoy my space. When I first moved to Nevada, I dated a lot. Or rather, hooked up a lot. It was my attempt at getting my mind offhimwhile also just getting experience and learning what I like and don’t like. Growing up gay in a small church town where homosexuality is a sin complicates things and makes it hard to figure out who you really are.
The first time I kissed somebody was at an out-of-town college party I crashed during my sophomore year of high school. It was my first experience with a man, but also my first experience in general. Then, right after my twenty-first birthday, I ventured out of town, determined to lose my virginity once and for all, and I did. Up until the day I left Utah, I still hadn’t seen a single openly queer person in town besides myself.
Coming here opened my eyes to a whole new world. People here walked around free to be who they really are with no judgement. Once everyone back home found out I was gay, I was never ashamed, but I also didn’t feel like it was something I could flaunt either. It was nice, moving here, and it helped me figure out who I truly am and what I want. And right now, what I want is my freedom and to be alone. I’m sure that’ll change someday. But for now, I’m happy.
Nick and I talk for a bit about work and our plans for this weekend—there’s a huge rock show a few towns over that a bunch of us are going to—before he leaves me to my own thoughts, and heads to his own room. I’m working on finishing my fourth glass of whiskey. I’ve been in a shit mood all day, and as much as I love to deny it to myself, I know it’s because of the anniversary of Lana’s death. It snuck up on me, and I don’t know what to do with myself.
The guilt that consumes me constantly is overwhelming. I should’ve seen more of the signs and been able to save her. She was so close to freedom. So close to being an adult and being able to make the choice to leave the tight confines of her hometown. She could’ve been anything, and every last one of us failed her.
Segan Bradley suddenly pops into my mind. A ghost of my past I’ve managed to avoid thinking about as often as possible. They were inseparable for so many years.
But then again, at one point in time, we almost were too.
I’ll never forget seeing him at her funeral. The malice in his eyes, the venom in his words when he spoke to me, and the way he stormed out of the church and never looked back. For a long, long time, I thought he was responsible for her death, but I think truthfully, I was just looking for someone to blame.
After going to the kitchen to pour myself another drink, I wander back to my room as unwanted memories flit through my hazy mind. A night two years ago that should’ve been a blaring red flag that Lana was diving off the deep end. It was the first time I’d been back in Utah since I left months prior. I needed to see Segan, make sure he was okay, so I went back under the guise of wanting to see her too.
We went out to dinner—me, her, and Segan—and then hung out for a few hours before I went back to the hotel for the night. She was different. I’d only been gone for a few months, but her appearance and her disposition were… well, it should’ve been enough for me to see she wasn’t okay.
I’ll never forget being woken from a dead sleep to my phone ringing, and the sheer panic in Segan’s voice as he begged me to come help him. Lana had taken something, but he claims he didn’t know what, and she wasn’t responding. I’ve never gotten dressed and driven anywhere as fast as I did that night. It was déjà vu from her birthday only a few months prior, except worse.
Segan was white as a sheet by the time I parked my car. I remember telling him I’d already called Chevy, and he was on his way over. It was an unspoken fact that Lana couldn’t go to the emergency room. Her family and the town gossips couldn’t know that she was possibly overdosing. The doctor worked on her for some time, while me and Segan stress-smoked cigarette after cigarette outside the house in the freezing winter air.
I’d never seen him look more worried—not even when she got alcohol poisoning on her last birthday. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with unshed tears, and his lip was torn to shreds from him gnawing on it. The look in his sage green eyes has haunted me every single day since. The way he looked up at me, fear in his eyes, his entire body trembling—partially from the weather, but also from the worry that his girlfriend was going to die—and he said“I can’t fucking lose her. She’s all I’ve got. I can’t lose her, Josiah.”
In that moment, my heart shattered even more than I knew it could, and I pulled him into me and wrapped my arms around him before I could think twice. Our relationship, mine and Segan’s, had been rocky for a while. Hell,rockyis being generous. We hadn’t spoken since I’d left town, and not from my lack of trying. He wanted nothing to do with me after I left. Not that I blame him. But that night, he held on to me like he was afraid I was going to vanish, trembling hands fisting my leather jacket as he buried his face into my neck. His hot breath fanning my skin, mixed with the feel of his cold nose on my flesh, sent a chill down my spine.
