Page 8 of Reclaim Me

“Will’s not—I mean, it’s—” God, I can’t get my words together. How is it that I’m supposed to be helping this man, and I can’t even form a sentence? I clear my throat. “Sorry, Will isn’t able to come to the phone right now.”

“Is he alright?”

“Are you?” I blurt.

The line goes quiet again, and then Hunter laughs. It’s not a joyful sound. The edges are sharp, the center bitter.

“What’s your name?” he asks, and that’s when I hear it, the forced intention pressing down on each word, how hard he’s working to keep the lazy lilt of drug-induced euphoria from showing in his voice. I heard Will’s voice sound like that once when I was ten, and he showed up to my birthday party high. Mommy forced him to leave, and then she went in her room and cried while Dee’s mom, Emma, led everyone through the Happy Birthday song.

“Rae. I’m Will’s sister.”

“Didn’t know Will had a sister.” I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything at all, which is just as well since Hunter continues talking. “Can you give him a message for me?”

“Hold on a second. Let me get a pen.”

“You won’t need a pen. It’s a short message.”

There’s a finality to the statement that has me glancing at Will, hoping he’ll wake up and save me from this conversation and Hunter from whatever it is that’s troubling him, but his eyes are still shut tight.

“Why don’t you give him a call tomorrow?”

Hunter clicks his tongue. “Because I won’t be here tomorrow, Rae.”

My heart twists in on itself as the true meaning of his words settles inside my chest. A deep, harrowing sorrow pools in my stomach. The sensation of grieving someone I don’t know before they’ve even gone. And Hunter is going. I hear the intent in his words, feel it in the silence on his end of the phone.

“Where are you going to be tomorrow, Hunter?”

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s got the entire world pressing down on him, squeezing all the air out of his lungs. I imagine he must feel that way if he’s thinking about ending his life.

“Not here. Can you just tell Will that I—” he pauses, and I imagine his lips pressed together into a hard, hesitant line. That hesitation gives me hope, makes me think that maybe he isn’t as sure as I thought he was.

“Where are you?” The words spill past my lips in a rush. Hurried. Hopeful. “Maybe I can send someone to help you.”

“There’s no help for me, Rae.”

“That’s not true. You called Will because you thought he could help, right?”

“No, I called Will to say goodbye.”

There goes my heart again, turning into knots of anguish for a perfect stranger. My mom always said I felt deeply for other people. That the world’s problems weighed heavy on my heart. For as along as I can remember, she’s referred to me as a gentle soul. Kind. Empathetic. Never a harsh word or a raised voice. Which is why nothing about my response to Hunter makes a bit of sense.

“Well, you’ll have to wait to tell him yourself because I’m not going to pass along your message. After everything Will has done for you, I think he deserves more than a phone call, don’t you agree?”

I don’t have a clue in the world what Will has or hasn’t done for Hunter, but I can imagine. My brother is the kind of person who gives everything he has to the people he cares about, and as one of his sponsees, Hunter fits the bill.

“You’re probably right, but this is the best I can do, okay?”

Defeat casts a shadow over his words, bathing them in a darkness so thick and dense I feel it covering me as well. Any smart person would take a step back to avoid being engulfed by it, but I feel myself inching forward, reaching into it. Whether it’s to save Hunter or lose myself, I’m not sure.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“I can assure you it is.”

More silence. Another lung-emptying sigh filled with sadness that spells the end of this conversation and, if I let him go, the end of Hunter’s life. I bite my lip, searching for something to say. My heart is telling me to keep him talking. My brain is screaming for me to wake Will. My mouth has a mind of its own.

“Have you eaten?”

“What?” he asks, an incredulous huff of amusement following the question.

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