I turn the key in the lock, and the stench of vomit hits my nose immediately. “Mom,” I shout, pushing the door open. “Mom, are you okay? Mom, where are you?”

With no response, I walk further into the house, and the smell permeates into my nostrils until my chest heaves. Pulling my sleeve past my hand to cup my nose, I try to avoid adding to the mess. I pass by the lounge room and head to my sister’s room. There’s no doubt that’s where she’ll be.

There, lying on the bed in her own vomit; is my mother.  An empty bottle of Chardonnay sits on the nightstand. It’s fair to assume she drank herself stupid, the saddest part is I’m not even surprised anymore. The woman on that bed isn’t the same woman who raised me. When I see her like this, I don’t even know her, and I sure as hell struggle to like her. But it’s just her and I now, and regardless of her actions, my feelings don’t come into play anymore. It’s irrelevant what I want, expect or even feel. Loyalty, pity, and blood are what pushes me through her continuous cycle of destruction. If I don’t clean up her mess, she’ll die. Even though I’m sure that’s what she’s trying to achieve, I won’t let her go.

Two years ago, my sister, Renee committed suicide. A bunch of pills in her sleep, and never woke up. I should’ve seen it coming, but somehow I missed it, and by the time all the pieces of the puzzle clicked it was too late. Now everyday since then, I wait on my hands and knees, catering to all of my mother’s needs. Desperate to keep her alive. We don’t talk about our loss. Not to each other, and not to anyone else. It’s too hard. Unfortunately, when someone chooses to take their own life, they’re not the only ones who die. I battle with myself daily. The way I miss my sister is indescribable, but the way I miss my mom is life changing.

I drop my bag at the open bedroom door, hoping the thud on the floor will wake her up. Kicking off my heels and make my way to the bathroom. Pulling open the shower curtain, I lean in and turn the water on. Twisting and turning the knob, I stick my hand in the spray making sure the temperature is just right. When it’s warm, I lift my shirt off my body and unzip my skirt.  Stripping down to my underwear, I walk out of the room and do what is quickly becoming my daily routine.

Back in Renee’s room, I undress mom; her cotton nightie stuck to her clammy body. When she’s in nothing but her underwear, I maneuver her legs off the bed before sitting her in an upright position. Placing one of her arms around my neck, I grab her waist and lift. Light as a feather, it’s like carrying a newborn child, and worrying you’ll break them.

The movement wakes her up ever so slightly, and she manages to start shuffling her feet. Her eyelids flutter with every step. The bathroom has filled up with steam, the hot water taking the chill out of the air. Holding my mother close, we both step into the shower. There’s a plastic stool that I bought and put in here after I realized it was impossible to hold and wash her at the same time.

“I’m going to set you down, okay?”

A groan sounds from her throat, and I take it as my cue to set her down. Once she’s seated, I grab the shampoo and begin to wash her hair. Taking a deep breath, I let the hot water ease the tension between my shoulders. We settle into the routine of role reversal until she’s looking half decent.

“Brush your teeth,” I order. Handing her the toothpaste covered brush, I wait for her to grab hold and step out to get a towel.

Once she’s warm and dressed, I put her in her own bed; placing a glass of water, aspirin, and two slices of bread on the nightstand. Hopefully, she’ll wake up feeling a little better.

Bracing myself for the foul odor emanating from Renee’s room. I pull back the thick, heavy curtains and slide the windows open to let in fresh air.

Stripping off the bedding, I look around for anything else that’s out of place.  Apart from mom coming in here and making a mess on the bed every so often, everything else remains the same. An untouched shrine.

I throw the sheets and dirty clothes in the washing machine and head off to have a long, hot shower on my own. By the time I’m finished and dressed, it’s dinnertime, but I don’t have enough time to eat.

Six weeks ago, I decided to take the plunge and enroll in an online course. Before Renee died, I was living in Florida attending my last year of design school. I was called back home because Renee wasn’t coping. Slipping into depression, her highs and lows were inconsistent, and worry began to consume my mother’s daily life. The cracks in our happy family started to show and coming home, Mom expected me to be the glue that put everything back together. But I was just a Band-Aid fix. The excitement of sisters reuniting waned. Routine settled in, and Renee’s demons came back with a vengeance.

After the pregnancy scare, I realized Evie was right. I can’t control the choices my mother makes or even make her change, but I am responsible for me. I can’t keep running from my fears and insecurities. Any more time wasted is on me.

So, here I am, up until midnight, working on my new course material, desperate to make a change.

* * *

Setting up the store, I see Evie walk in all laughter and smiles, as Lior drops her off at work. They’re sickeningly adorable. It makes me simultaneously roll my eyes and envy their happiness all at once. If anyone deserves to be happy it’s Evie and Lior. Her heart is pure and his love is irrevocable.

“Morning,” she says cheerfully.

“Morning,” I respond. “How are you?”

“I’m great.”

I laugh at her giddy attitude. She’s like a high school girl with a crush, and it looks so good on her.

“Good sex last night?” I tease. Her face reddens; teasing her never gets old.

“No, actually. I’m just happy about a few things.” She’s being vague, something she’d mastered in her time in personal exile.

When Evie and I met, she was a woman doused in heartache. Enduring more than any one person should, grief and loss marred the last few years of her life. It took a strong and committed person in Lior, to bring out the beauty that is Evie today.

“Are you going to tell me these things?” I ask.

“How about we all go out for dinner tonight. We haven’t all been together in ages.”

At the mention of all of us going out, I turn my face and hide my expression. I’ve been avoiding Elliot since the night of the pregnancy scare. After his text message, I decided that night would be the last time. I silently said goodbye and promised myself he and I would stop whatever unhealthy dependency we have with one another.

Whenever we've been together, it's been for a distraction. A free pass into an alternate time where the disappointment of the world can’t touch us. I know he's used me, just as much as I’ve used him, but lately, I’d felt the walls between us starting to weaken. Moving beyond physical attraction, things were changing. With inquisitiveness sitting on the tip of our tongues, the transition is hard to ignore. We're still not friends, but we're not fuck buddies anymore either. Whatever he's running from, he's obviously not ready to talk about. The only things I know about him, are things Evie has told me, and all he knows about me, is what my body tells him. Since the last time we saw each other, we’ve texted a few times since then, but it’s obvious we’re both too proud to point out the change or say we want more.

“I don’t know Evie, I’ve got a lot of school work to do.” I lie.

I feel her come up behind me. “Come on, Court. I promise to make it worth your while,” she pleads.

“Fine,” I huff. “Just promise no documentary talk.”

“But I just started this new show about strange addictions, one of the people on there eats sand—”

“No, Evie.”

She laughs out loud, knowing very well she’s grossing me out.

“Come on, we can go out to dinner or we can eat comfortably at our place. Let me know by lunchtime and I’ll have Lior tell Elliot where to meet us.”

“Sounds perfect,” I say sarcastically.

* * *

The day has been long, and I’m preparing myself for the night to be even longer. Making our way to a new Brazilian BBQ restaurant that opened up in the city, I opted to eat in a public place, hoping it limits interactions with Elliot.

Evie and I arrive first. She picks a booth in the back corner, and I know very well I can't expect her to sit next to me. I slide in, the cold leather heightening my anxiety. Evie knows my aversion to alcohol, so when I order a glass of Moscato, the strange look she gives me isn’t a surprise.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay because clearly, you’re not.” Her eyes search my face with worth. “I’m just trying to work out why you didn’t tell me it was this bad.”

“What’s this bad?” I ask.

“You and Elliot.”

“There is no me and Elliot,” I say, lifting my glass and taking a sip.

“So, why are you drinking?”

Blatantly ignoring her inquisition, I lift the wine glass, and let the sweet, fruity-like liquid touch my lips and quench my thirst.

In the corner of my eye, I see two bodies come into view. Elliot’s here. Wearing his usual work attire, his pressed shirt hugs his lean chest, stretching and accentuating every muscle. I try to keep my attention focused on my wine glass, but I’d forgotten how gorgeous he is. I’d forgotten how much Elliot turns me on. That and his gravelly voice, right up next to my ear, sends shivers running down my spine.

“You going to move over for me?” he asks.

I look beside me and realize I’m sitting smack bang in the middle of the seat. Sliding my ass to the right, as I watch him effortlessly slip in next to me. I do my best to throw off a force field around my body, hoping he keeps an appropriate distance.

My leg is bouncing in nervousness, a habit I’ve had for as long as I can remember, and one I don’t even feel myself doing until I feel his warm, yet firm grip on my thigh. Instantly his touch calms me, and I hate it. I sigh in defeat, self-loathing filling me up. I’ve missed him, and missing him isn’t an option.

I choose not to make a big deal about his hand on my leg, Lior and Evie, are very much aware of the tension between us and I don’t want another inquisition.

It seems we both intentionally let Evie and Lior fill up the air with their daily chatter, and we do our best to engage but only speak to them directly. The thickness around us dissipates with every sip of wine I take. It’s not long before I feel his thumb tracing circles on my outer thigh, I narrow my eyes in his direction, hoping to throw him a look that’ll get him to quit. But as I see the hint of the smallest smirk on the side of his mouth. I know he’s doing it on purpose. Subtly, I reach for his hand underneath the table and push it off my leg. I keep my own hand there, hoping to deter his from coming back, but it doesn’t. He places his hand on top of mine and intertwines our fingers. What the hell is he doing?

His cell rings, interrupting the conversation between him and Lior and has him squeezing my hand before he lets go and slides off the seat. He walks outside the restaurant, while I unabashedly staring at him with confusion.

Returning my focus back to Lior and Evie, I see they’re both watching me watch him. I look around for the waiter and ignore their stares. I need another drink.

When the waiter comes around, I point to my wine glass, “Can I have another please?”

“Sure,” he says, noting the drink down. “Can I get anyone else anything?

“Can I have some water, please?” Evie pipes in.

The three of us sit in silence until the waiter returns with the drinks. The second he walks away, Evie switches our drinks.

“What are you doing?” I ask in confusion?

“Don’t hate me, Court, but drinking for fun and drinking to run away from something are two different things. I realize you know that,” she says. Her voice filled with concern. She’s right and only trying to be supportive. “You’ll hate yourself later, and I don’t want that.”

Lior looks between us like he’s missed something, and it warms my heart knowing she’s the keeper of my secrets. I nod and take a sip of the water that’s in front of me. Evie’s right. The reason I’m staying away from Elliot is to make better decisions, but bumping into him is inevitable. I need to learn how to be close to him and not let it affect me.

My hope for tonight was that Elliot and I would be on the same page, that he too would realize the importance of just being friends, especially for Evie and Lior’s sake. They’re important fixtures in my life, and a friendship with either of them isn't going to end anytime soon.

Unfortunately I'm going to have to talk to him about it. We need to set some rules and some boundaries; something I was hoping I could avoid.