Page 136 of Haunt Me

“That is so lovely,” Walter murmurs in wonder, nodding along to the beat.

Someone quick, kill me now.

James, meanwhile, is laughing and grabbing Faith’s hand to start dancing to the song. I just gape at them through my fingers. This can’t be happening.

“Shall I help you in the kitchen?” Mom asks Walter, and they disappear together, chatting pleasantly about salads and cutlery like they have been pals forever.

Well, this is surreal. Not to mention revolting. I jog up the stairs to check on Eden and Manuela, and I find them curled up with Pooh on Eden’s bed, talking softly in that secret way sisters do.

“Everything ok down there?” Manuela asks me in her ‘mom’ voice.

“If you call our siblings dancing toHeartbreaker‘ok’, then yeah, I guess,” I reply.

“What!?” They both jump up at the same time, ignoring Pooh who starts barking his little head off, and tumble down the stairs to see the spectacle.

Eden is still wearing her pajamas, but I don’t think she even notices as she starts dancing next to her sisters. She moves shyly at first, but as soon as James starts clowning around, doing the robot dance and a million other goofy moves which are doubly ridiculous now that he is so freaking tall, she lets loose. I just stand there, at the top of the stairs and gaze at her, completely mesmerized.

The way her body sways to the music, the way she’s smiling, the way she closes her eyes and throws her head back, curls bouncing all over the place… I’ve never seen her that way, except in my imagination. I slowly sink to the ground and continue watching her through the railing. They get halfway through my studio album before the food begins to arrive. Thank God for small mercies.

We spread everything out on any surface available: the table, the kitchen island, the couch. And then everyone starts eating and talking and feeding the dog all at once. I try to eat something, but I feel nauseated.

So, instead, I get good and drunk.

By the time everyone has moved on from eating like it’s Thanksgiving to sipping wine and beer, I am barely coherent. But atleast now I can breathe. With every sip, I feel the weight that’s been pressing on my chest all day start to lift. I forget what I was stressed about.

Forgetting is good.

Breathing is good.

Thinking about forgetting is bad. I drink some more.

Faith, Manuela and James decide to have a ‘party’, so they put on cheesy dance music and start laughing and dancing along to it. They all look so much like a real family and it makes me miss my dad so badly I have to leave the room for a few minutes. When I get back, I am determined to stop feeling so much.

I need to drink more.

Everyone drinks a little—except James—but no one is as out-of-their mind intoxicated as I am. James drags me by the hand and forces me to dance, but I end up sprawled on a chair—which is preferable to the floor. Those were my two options.

I just stay there until I don’t know if it’s night or day anymore. Jet lag is hitting me hard. At some point, I feel a cool hand on my forehead. I open my eyes—when did I close them?—and I see Eden leaning over me. I try to sit up and the room spins sharply to the left.

“Sometimes I think you are an angel, Isaiah,” she says, her hips softly swaying to the music. “An angel.”

Is she drunk too?I try to call her name, but my lips won’t move.

Everything is covered in a haze; everything except her.

“You have been sent to save me,” Eden says, and she kneels so that her face is next to mine. She takes my hand in hers lightly and leans her cheek against the back of my fingers. “Except I can’t be saved.”

“No!” I try to lift myself, but everything is blurry and tilted. “You will be saved,” I try to say, but I don’t know if any actual words come out. “Youwillbe saved, Eden.”

I don’t know if I am imagining this or not. Maybe it’s a nightmare. Even in my dreams I will always want to save her. Even in my dreams I will always fail to save her.

I don’t know how much time passes.

I half-walk, half-crawl to the bathroom. When I start throwing up, James is suddenly there behind me, holding me up, keeping me from falling apart.

“You don’t drink, do you?” I tell him after the first violent wave passes. “I almost forgot.”

“Nope,” he replies. “Can’t think of why, looking at you right now.”

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