“Maybe so, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less, and we both know that. You don’t think I haven’t spent hours—days—trying to fix the shit I’ve gone through? I’ve done everything under the sun. Medication, self-help books, tequila. And none of it helped. You know why? Because that’s just running away from it. The only way to ease the pain is to face it head-on.”
Cody’s eyes finally meet mine, and I’m shocked to see the anger ablaze within them. I can see his jaw clenching and unclenching again and again.
“You don’t know me anymore, Darcy. If you don’t want to drink, fine, but don’t try to psychoanalyze me when you’re…you’re… even more of a hot mess than I am.”
I reel back.
He doesn’t mean that. He doesn’t. He’s just in pain and trying to push me away before I can get to the root of it.
“Cody—”
“I’m being so fucking serious right now, Darcy. I’m not doing this with you. If you want to chat and have some fun, let’s go. Otherwise, stay here. I really don’t care.”
My eyes narrow. I don’t give a shit how upset he is. No one talks to me like that.
“Fine. Go drown yourself in liquor. Disappoint your sister. Disappoint your parents. Be the total burnout everyone at home already thinks you are.”
I see a flash of pain in Cody’s eyes, but I’m too angry to let it dissuade me. Cody and I stare each other down in a silence filled with so many unsaid words. And then he leaves. Just like fucking always, he leaves.
And just like always, I don’t chase after him.
CHAPTER 10
CODY
Idon’t make it back to my room until the sun is halfway risen. I feel like crap, and I’m sure I look even worse. I spent half the night downing any drink that was handed to me, and the other half was spent hunched over the bar, too sick to fall asleep but too tired to throw up. I know I brought this upon myself, and I deserve every miserable second of it. Every single thing that went wrong was because of me, even long before Darcy ever got here. I think I might have done something to make God mad. Or maybe I’ve been cursed. All I know is there is something truly wrong with me. It’s just one tragedy after another, and I don’t think I can handle it anymore. I’m not strong enough. I try so hard to be cool, to be strong, and to be the guy everyone wants me to be. But sometimes I just can’t. I’m too weak. I’m too damaged. I’m too damn exhausted. And God, am I exhausted. It’s the kind of exhaustion that couldn’t possibly be fixed with a good night of sleep. It settles deep into your bones and consumes you. It feels like running and running and never being able to reach a destination. It feels like I’m slowly drowning, and I have no life raft anymore. I’m trapped in the middle of a raging sea with nothing to keep me afloat.
I think I might reach the end soon. I think I might completely succumb to the waves. And I think it will be a relief.
When I make it into my room, I have every intention of going straight to bed and preferably never waking up again. But it isn’t that easy because Maya is sitting at the kitchen table with the chair pointed toward the front door, and I know that she’s been waiting for me. She’s as tense as I’ve ever seen her, and her eyes hold the kind of fury that I’ve seen in the mirror more times than I’d like to admit.
“Did you havefun?” she asks in a tone that I know means she doesn’t actually want an answer to that question. “I hope so, because you scared the crap out of me. I get a call from Darcy at one in the morning, all freaked out because she thinks you’re gonna do something stupid, so I do what any good sister would do. I go looking for you. Your room is empty. No one has seen you. Darcy says you completely blew up at her. And where do I finally find you? Shit-faced with a bunch of tourists and drunk dads.”
That’s not good. That’s not good at all.
I’m not sober enough for this.
“Maya, I?—”
“Shut up, Cody.” In one quick motion, Maya stands up and gets in my face. I can’t help but notice she looks exhausted, and it’s a terrible feeling to know that it’s my fault. “You’re lucky that I’m not strong enough to drag your ass up here, or you’d still be fully dressed in a freezing cold shower, and you’d deserve every second of it too.” Her angry exterior momentarily cracks, and I can see the barely concealed sadness hiding beneath the surface. “You didn’t have to do this, Cody. I was right here. I could’ve helped you.”
I swallow thickly. “I don’t need?—”
“You don’t need help?” Maya fumes with a manic smile. “Yeah, sure. Ofcourseyou don’t. Look at you. You look amazing.Like a million bucks. Not like you spent the entire night with your head in a puddle of booze.”
I don’t say anything. There isn’t anything I could say to justify this even if I wanted to. She’s right. I know she is, and more importantly, she knows she is. Maya must take notice of my utter defeat because she seems to take pity on me. Her face falls ever so slightly, and she sighs. Her hand wraps around my wrist, and she leads me into the living room, where we sit side-by-side on the couch.
It’s quiet for a little while. I don’t have any words, and Maya doesn’t seem to either. It’s nice just being with her, though. It’s been so long since anybody cared about what time I came home. And lately, it seems like, more and more, I don’t make it home at all.
“I thought you were coping with this,” Maya finally begins. “That was the deal. I won’t tell anybody about what actually happened as long as you can prove that you can handle it on your own.”
I know,I want to scream.I know what a total screw-up I am. I know how damn pathetic this is. You don’t have to tell me. I know.
“It’s been eight months, Cody,” Maya continues. “Claudia has been gone for eight months, and you’re still in this same sad room. Look at this place! She’s—she’s everywhere! You still have the same throw pillows she picked out. You burn her favorite candle. You even buy her crappy health foods that you and I both know you hate. Why? She’s not coming back. Youdoknow she’s not coming back, don’t you?”
I almost want to laugh at how much of a mess this is. Honestly, this is one for the books. If Claudia were here, she’d just laugh and laugh until she cried. But that’s exactly the problem. Claudia isn’t here. And she’s not coming back.
“I know she’s not coming back,” I tell my sister, surprised by the ragged state of my own voice. “You think I don’t know? I buried her. I take flowers to her grave every Sunday. No one knows better than me that she’s gone. I can’t forget that she’s gone, no matter how hard I try.”
