Page 59 of When I'm Gone

“Hate you more, Lo.”

The weight on my chest is lessened considerably after we hang up. Enough that I go back inside with a fragile ball of hope cradled to my chest. Maybe he’ll feel better. I’ve managed to persuade him to get up a couple of times, and he has a box of dry cereal to keep the hunger pangs away. I tried more substantial foods, of course, but at this point, all calories are good. He’ll be over the hump soon, I can feel it.

My Chaos is exactly where I left him, curled in a ball on our bed, dozing fitfully. I sit carefully beside him, not wanting to wake him. Even if it’s not exactly the best quality sleep, it’s got to be better for him than crying or being catatonic, and that’s seemingly the only three options he’s got over the last couple of days.

I feel utterly useless. It’s not a feeling that sits well with me, especially when it comes to Easton. I’ve let him down enough for a lifetime, so not being able to find a way to pull him out of this is doing a number on me.

Regretting any amount of time I’ve spent with him is impossible, but it’s not lost on me that the chemistry between us is manifesting for an awful time for him. Fresh out of an abusive relationship, trying to find his feet in a world, he’s unsure of his place. And he went straight from depending on one man for another, not that I care about that. I’m a firm believer in the dynamic between two people is no one’s business as long as everyone involved is satisfied with it. But that can’t be easy for Easton. He struggles with self-worth on a good day, so this has got to be a constant battle for him.

Without really meaning to, I reach for him, my hand finding his corn silken hair and rubbing his scalp. I’ve got to find a way to help him get some of his independence back without unsettling him. There’s got to be something I can do without just calling things off simply because the timing sucks.

When the stick turned pink, the timing couldn’t have been worse for Logan. She was dancing at a club at night and going to college during the day. Who the dad was is a bit unclear. But she loved Sage from the very beginning, huddled on the bathroom floor with my useless ass on speakerphone. Mom was in New Orleans, meeting with anup-and-coming graffiti artist, and I was a shitty stand-in, but she didn’t need me as much as she thought she might have. I really admired her then and still do. As always, I find myself wanting to take a page out of her book.

The timing sucks, but there has to be a way I can make this work. I just don’t know what it is yet.

Against my hip, he stirs. “Hey, sweetheart,” I whisper.

Easton blinks up at me sleepily, wordlessly, but there’s something in his eyes, fighting to come out. Determination maybe. I can’t quite say. It feels like a win, though. Silently, I chant for it to surface. He needs it.

We sit for over an hour, me, a spectator to the cage fight of depression versus the human soul. He’s so ready to be done with this, the vast emptiness is draining. The anguish is far worse.

Abruptly, he sits straight up, knocking my hand away in the process. “I can’t do it anymore.”

Fear spikes my heart rate. “Do what anymore…?” Surely, he can’t mean that.

He scrubs his hands over his face and groans. “Don’t let me come back here until it’s all worked out.”

Well, now I’m confused, but he’s already shoving out of bed and heading to the door, wearing nothing except for my ridiculously big joggers and an I.U. T-shirt at least three sizes too big. Both of which he’s been in since Friday night when we got ready for bed. Dumbly, I follow behind to see what the hell is going on. He doesn’t pause at the door for shoes, just walks right out and turns left.

Oh.

He’s going to Brady’s house. Holy shit.

“You’ve got this, Chaos,” I mumble to the empty doorframe.

~~~

Easton

He’s holding my coping strategies hostage, and I fucking want them back. Among some darker thoughts I’d rather not bring to the forefront of my mind again, the simmering anger at my brother wouldn’t let up. Those fucking paints were haunting me and something was in the way. Someone, I concluded.

My stupid, beaten down heart won’t let me have a fucking break until Brady and I get through this. As wonderful as Chase has been, I didn’t come here because of him. There’s too much left unsaid. I know I’ve been completely closed off to his attempts, but it’s eating at me. When I had no one as a kid, I had Brady. Brady, who protected me, included me, never tried to crush me. Brady, who let me paint mythical creatures on his walls until all hours and slept with his shoulder shoved into the wall so there was always room for me beside him. I never had to face my struggles alone, there were no words exchanged, but it was a well-known fact. As long as I had my brother, I had a safe place to escape myself.

I don’t knock, for fear of losing my nerve, just barge straight in and hope for the best.

“Eas?” he asks, dropping his console controller mid-game with his jaw slack.

After cursing my parents for never encouraging us to talk about our feelings, I swallow roughly. “We need to talk.”

It’s not much, but it’s a start. “We do.” He agrees easily, but it seems I’ll have to kick things off.

My memory is shaky when it comes to that night on the porch. Too caught up in my anger, I suppose. But it needs repeating. When I ask him to, he tells me to sit and goes over everything again for me. How long it’s been since he’s spoken to Mom and Dad. The efforts spent trying to find me,including driving to Washington from Florida with everything he owned.

I bring my knees to my chin on his lumpy, ugly couch, and try to breathe through it. I want Chase. Against a thousand reasons, he believes in me. I’ve constantly shown him that I’m a lost cause, but he doesn’t waver. This pain is mine though, mine to get through. While his support helps give me strength, I’m the only person who can re-break this bone and hope it heals correctly this time around.

“Aaron showed me messages between you two on Instagram. Where you said awful things about me.”

He flinches. “Easton, if I knew the guy who had you locked up like Rapunzel, I would have dragged you out of there even if you were kicking and screaming. I don’t know what he told you, but I can swear to you on everyone that I love, you included, that no one ever reached out to me about you.”

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