Ella was practically
sucking on a vape pen. She blew out marshmallow flavored clouds of toxicity. I
joined her as we stopped outside what looked like an adult candy store.
Blinking lights, colorful glass hookahs, and too many tiny plants. The little
pods contained everything from watermelon to donut to cereal flavors. It was
too much. Too overwhelming. I was going to drown in a wave of smells, neon lights,
and a headache of a color pallet.
Ella bought her stuff
and we left. I never wanted to go back
there. I took out my cigarette while Ella popped in a new cartridge. Same
product, different skin. We stood side by side and blew clouds of smoke as if
we were the last dragons on earth. We were in a haze of our own making.
I spied on Graycen and
Ella again. I felt like I needed to. I could feel their distrust of me rising
like the moon.
“He’s having episodes,”
Ella whispered.
“He’s becoming like
his mother. Spend less time with him,” Graycen said.
Ella shook her head.
“That’ll make it worse. He’ll think we are abandoning him. Maybe he should join
a group. A place to talk about whatever bothers him.”
Graycen smiled a sad
smile. The kind you give to someone full of hope and idealism.
“He won’t do that. I
know him.”
Would they leave me?
Would they be one of those friends who knew you intimately and left pieces of
themselves scattered all over your life? When I smelled a vanilla candle, would
I remember when Graycen and I were laughing? When I passed by the spring
flowers, would I remember Ella’s smile? Would they become memories and faded
nostalgia that I could never get back?
I tossed and turned in
bed. A creak of the floorboard set my heart pounding. I got up to find Chantel
in the kitchen. The thick stillness of night was peaceful. I forgot what it
felt like to be awake when everyone else was asleep. That ephemeral substance
was hard to chase. So many ideas filtered in the darkest hours that I felt I
could achieve anything, but when the sun came up and the clear day began, all
my dreams turned to dust. Chantel smiled.
“Why are you haunting
these halls tonight?” she asked. She was cradling a cup of chamomile tea.
“Nightmares,” I
croaked.
Rain pattered on the
roof as Chantel poured me a cup of tea. She added whiskey and I gave her a
genuine smile.
“I know those eyes and
what you need,” she said.
God save me from
Chantel; the all-knowing bitch. Her blood-red nails clicked against her sunny-yellow
ceramic mug. Ella’s mug.
“Your personality is
becoming harsher, rougher.”
“Maybe. What’s it to
you?” I asked.
“I’m not judging you.
Just remember that deal we made for Ella.”
For Ella. That deal we
made when she was seven years old. Not a drop of alcohol would touch her lips.
We would protect her from the bad things in life. We would prepare her for the
bad things in life. Life was simpler when Chantel made pancakes and I bought
Ella a firetruck toy. Those early days of tentative peace and freedom, like a
warm, soft blanket fresh out of the dryer. The days when I held an umbrella
over Chantel and Ella. I was their guardian, protector. What was I now? Ella
had boyfriend. She didn’t need me anymore. She was going to college. My job as
her pseudo-father figure was done.
“You and Graycen have
been life-savers. Literally. I can never thank you enough. But that doesn’t
mean I’ll let you walk all over me,” Chantel said. Her eyes cut through me.
I had forgotten how
expertly she wielded a knife. She was not the same person I met without an
umbrella. I had changed too and if I was honest with myself, so had Ella.
“You are changing,”
Chantel said.
“I’m the same. I’m
doing what’s best for Ella,” I said.
“No, you are doing what’s best for yourself. You are filling the hollow
void with something dark and cruel,” Chantel said.
I drained my cup.