~ Nick
“Alright, this has got to stop,” Amy says, sitting down beside me.
I glance at her as I take another sip of my beer. “What does?” I ask.
“This, you idiot,” she says, gesturing to me.
I look down at myself, wondering what the hell she’s talking about.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she says, grabbing the beer from my hand and taking a long pull. “What the hell is going on with you? You’ve done nothing but spend this past week on my couch, drinking and sleeping. You look like a homeless person and you kinda smell like one too. I love you Nick, I really do, but you can’t keep doing this. Who’s looking after the bar, huh? And what about Oscar?”
I stare at her as though she’s crazy. She looks back at me as though it’s me who’s the crazy one, not her.
I still haven’t told her the reason for why I showed up on her doorstep, drunk and angry a week ago. That hasn’t stopped her from asking though and every day has been a repeat of the previous. Amy waking me with coffee and the question, “What happened?” Me ignoring her and going back to sleep, waking sometime in the afternoon to resume my drinking only to pass out sometime later before waking and doing it all again.
“Nick, seriously,” she says, reaching for my hand. “What is it?”
I stare down at her hand in mine, at the tiny tattoo on her wrist that she got done at the same time I got mine. It had been a thing we’d done together, not because we wanted to share the experience, but because we both needed to share the grief.
Her grip softens, her fingers sliding into mine as she pulls my hand into her lap. I look up at her and wonder why I never thought about things this way before.
Then I lean in and kiss her.
“Jesus Christ,” she says, pushing me away.
“What?” I ask, confused. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it?”
“No actually, I haven’t,” she says, a look of what might be disgust on her face. “You’re like a brother to me, Nick. You always have been. Besides which, have you forgotten the fact that you also have a girlfriend?”
I let out a long sigh. I know she’s right, at least about the sibling part anyway. I’ve known Amy virtually my whole life and even though she is totally awesome, I have never once considered her to be anything other than like a sister to me. The thought of us as a couple never crossed my mind up until about five seconds ago, and I can only assume that the alcohol that’s been circulating throughout my system for the past week is what made me try to kiss her just now.
“Yeah, um, sorry about that.”
Amy grabs my hand again, squeezing it until I look at her. “Tell me what this is about?” she asks. “It’s Emma, yeah?”
I nod.
“What happened?”
I take a deep breath, knowing there’s no way I’m going to be able to avoid not answering this question any longer. “She found out about Amy,” I tell her.
“What?”
I nod. “Yeah and it was such a shitty thing for her to do that I just…I was so fucking mad at her…I just lost it. I had to get out of there.”
“Wait, what?” Amy asks, stopping me.
“Emma,” I say, wondering why she isn’t getting this. “She looked up Amy’s file at the hospital.”
“No,” Amy says, shaking her head.
Finally someone who understands. I should’ve known she would. Aside from my parents and Tony, she’s the only other person who knows what Amy’s death was like.
“No, seriously,” she continues. “You mean, you hadn’t actually told her?” she asks incredulously as though she’s surprised by this, when really, she should know better. “She told me she knew,” she continues. “That she knew about Amy?”
Now it’s my turn. “What?”
“I asked her,” Amy says. “When you guys got together?”
I shrug, not following. “She knew she died.”
“Jesus, Nick,” she says, turning so she’s directly facing me. “Please don’t tell me that you hadn’t told your girlfriend, the girlfriend you’re madly in love with, about what actually happened with Amy.”
“I’m not in love with her,” I say quickly.
Amy scoffs. “Yeah okay, whatever. The point is you were supposed to have told her everything.”
I roll my eyes, choosing to ignore this comment. “No, I think the point is that it was a shitty thing for Emma to do,” I continue. “She had no fucking right.”
Amy waves her hand as though dismissing it. “No, I think the shitty thing is that you didn’t tell her about it. Especially after what happened before. I mean, fuck, Nick, really?”
“What before?” I ask.
“Oh my god, the confusion over me and the tattoo? Jesus,” she says, her words laced with frustration.
“What the hell does that have to do with it?” I ask, now regretting telling her any of this.
Amy takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she continues. “Nick,” she starts, pausing as though to gather strength before she imparts whatever words of wisdom she thinks I need to hear. “I love you, I really do.” She stops, as though trying to find the right words to say to me. “But despite that, sometimes you can be really fucking stupid. Do you know that?”
“What?” I ask annoyed. “What are you talking about?”
Amy finishes my beer, putting the empty bottle on the coffee table before continuing. “You and Emma, you’ve what, been seeing each other for a few months now?” I nod; not exactly sure of the exact amount of time, but knowing it’s pretty close to what she’s saying. Amy nods as though she’s happy I can at least agree with her on this one. “Right, and regardless of what you’re willing to admit, you are in love with her. She’s woken this fire in you, this…this life that you haven’t had for a really long time. Not since Amy died.”
My eyes close because a part of me knows she’s right but just isn’t willing to admit it. I know for the past year, maybe the past year and half, I’ve felt like I’ve been walking through life half awake and half asleep. And it wasn’t until that night, the night Emma walked into my bar, I finally felt as though I might be ready to wake back up.
I’m not even sure what it was, or is, about her that caused me to feel like this. God knows she was hardly in a good place when we first met. All I know is she somehow seemed to understand what it was I was going through, even when she had no idea what that was. Somehow that made everything a little easier to deal with.
“So, you can obviously see this too,” Amy says, smiling. I shrug in half agreement and her smile widens because she knows she’s right. “So why didn’t you ever tell her about what happened?” she asks. “Why don’t you ever tell anyone about it? It doesn’t have to be this big secret you know?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug, looking away. “I don’t ever want to talk about it, much less think about it.”
“I know,” she says. “None of us do, Nick. But you shouldn’t hide it from Emma because it’s a huge part of your life, just like Emma is.”
I run a hand through my hair, gripping the back of neck as I try and work out what I’m supposed to say or do here. Deep down, I know why I’ve never told her. It’s the same reason I never tell anyone, and it’s the same reason I permanently tattooed a reminder of it into my skin.
“God, you still feel guilty about it all, don’t you?” Amy says and I wonder if she can actually read my mind.
I nod, my head falling as the memories of it all resurface. They’ve never really gone away, I’ve somehow just managed to bury them. Bury them so that I can get through each day without falling apart or becoming a total alcoholic. Although given this week’s activities, I kinda have to wonder if I’ve been kidding myself about that second part.
“Nick, you have nothing to feel guilty about, you have to know that,” Amy says, her voice softer. “What happened was not your fault. Nothing you did or could’ve done would have prevented it.”
I nod, even though I don’t believe her. Even though my guilt doesn’t stem from what happened in the end, but from what happened in the beginning to cause it.
“Emma made a mistake, that’s all,” she continues. “Yes, it was a big one, I’ll grant you that. But please, don’t you make the biggest mistake of your life by letting her go.” I glance up, meet Amy’s gaze. “She’s good for you, Nick,” she continues, smiling. “She’s right for you.”
I nod, because regardless of everything that’s happened, I know she’s right. Emma is good for me. She’s right for me. She’s everything I want too. Always has been, even when I didn’t want to admit it. Even though I know I don’t deserve it.
“Go home,” she says, shoving me a little. “I kinda need my couch back,” she adds, laughing as she pulls me into a half hug, kissing my cheek. “Ugh, and for god’s sake, take a shower before you go and see her.”
I chuckle now, pushing up off the couch. “Thank you,” I say, pulling her in for a proper hug. “And I’m sorry for…you know.”
“It’s all good,” she says. “Let’s just pretend it never happened.”
I spend the walk home both sobering up and trying to work out what I’m going to say to Emma when I see her. When I finally reach my place, I can see the bar is still open. I could go in there, if nothing else, to apologise to Tony for being a dick this past week. But I don’t, because I know if I do, I’d only be stalling what I know needs to happen tonight.
I could go straight to Emma’s too, but at the very least, I need that shower before I do. I’m trying to win her back here, not put her off even more. I know Oscar will have been fine, that Tony will have taken the spare keys from my office and fed him, but I am definitely not fine.
So I skip the bar and hold off on going to Emma’s, instead sliding my key into the door to my apartment. My footsteps on the stairs echo in the silence. At the top, I unlock the other door and walk inside, kicking off my shoes. I walk into my bedroom, throwing my keys and wallet on the bed before turning and walking into the bathroom.
And when I walk in there…
…the arm hanging lifeless over the side of the bath…
…the red stain of blood on the tiles…
My whole world falls apart…again.