Page 28 of As the Rain Falls
“I thought, you know, after Lucia’s death…”
Angelina went through some kind of mental breakdown after the accident. The doctors called it a psychotic break. My mother called it demon possession. She had to be locked in the psychiatric care aisle by the end of the summer, no visitations allowed.
The rumors going on about her are brutal. People talk like she’s a bit of a freak.
“I don’t know. Kayla might’ve said something the other day,” I speak in a gentle way, tucking my hair behind my ear again. “I’m really sorry she’s hurting, Beckett.”
I’m sorry you’re hurting too.
I wish I could take all the pain away.
I add, “It really sucks how everything is not that simple, right? I mean. That we can’t fix things just because we really want to.”
“You’re absolutely right, and the worst thing is, I know it’s my fault,” he lowers his voice, sounding remorseful. “She claimed for the longest time that Lucia wasn’t drunk that night, but Iread the autopsy and totally freaked out on her for lying. It’s all on me.”
I stare at him. “Don’t say that.”
“But it is,” he insists, muttering to himself. “Everything’s just… just falling apart. I’m still trying to understand, uh, but I don’t get it.”
I frown. “Understand what?”
Beckett drags the back of his hand below his nose, sniffling quietly. “How we got here.”
“Like, what happened to Angelina?”
He hums, and we fall into comfortable silence again.I start thinking about changing the topic, but Beckett scoffs self-deprecatingly after a while.
“Well, no, actually. I was lying just now. I know exactly what happened to Angie. I happened to her,” he says, probably referring to an argument they shared at the funeral. “Me and my big mouth.”
I was there to watch it happen. The whole thing was… terrible.
“Beckett.”
“I’m just saying,”he cuts me off again, shoulders tensing. “What gets me is… I don’t even know what got Lucia to drink so much that night. She wasn’t like the papers are saying. She wasn’t.”
“I know.”
Beckett still insists, and my heart starts to break a little for the guy the more I listen.
“A beer here and there. Fucking shots at the beach for Angelina’s birthday. She is a teen for goodness’s sake. Was,” he corrects himself. “She was a teen, but she wouldn’t drink herself to death.”
“I—”
“Something happened to her, Cassandra,” Beckett confides with a broken whisper. “I know it.”
I can see that the question is wearing him out, sucking the life out of him. Struggling to find out what to say next, I swallow hard and consider the possibility. Tragedies are not just things that happen. I mean. There is always something setting the motions at play, right?
“Brother’s instinct?” I point out, wanting to lighten the mood.
He takes notice of that attempt.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry,” Beckett tries to laugh it off, but his attempt is weak. “I’m so sorry, I must sound crazy to you.”
“You don’t,” I reassure him that he doesn’t, shaking my head lightly to emphasize what I’m saying. “Who am I to call you anything?”
Beckett knew Lucia better than anyone. I’m sure of that. To me, Lucia was a happy girl most of the time. Loud, outspoken. She wasn’t the type to be easily beaten down, but the devil is in the details, isn’t it? Something that seems good on the outside can be totally different on the inside.
I clear my throat. “Maybe you’re not so far off.”
