6: QUITTING
I know the script.
Things should be awkward the next day. I should find mascara-stained eyes blinking with hope inches from my face as I wake. Or in the bathroom trying to clear any evidence of sleep. Maybe struggling with the zipper of a dress or searching for missing accessories. But no. None of that. In fact, I don’t find Hannah at all until I move toward the kitchen and pass her mop of hair secured above the neckline of my t-shirt.
“Morning,” Hannah tosses over her shoulder from the couch, then raises a bowl to invite me to my own cereal for breakfast.
“Morning. You sleep okay?” I help myself to coffee she’s already made and study her from the kitchen as she watches some sports recap. That shirt doesn’t look nearly as good on me.
“I guess. Well, no, but whatever.” She turns back to her show, and I listen to the crunch of whatever treasure she found in my cabinets. I didn’t even know I had cereal. Maybe I don’t. It’s Hannah Drake so normal rules don’t apply.
“Hey, Han. About what happened—”
“Geoffrey kicked me out.”
“Damn. I’m sorry.”
She shrugs, and I join her on the couch. Her gaze still rests on the TV screen, but her eyes aren’t watching. “Whatever. Boyfriends suck.”
“What happened?”
“He ‘doesn’t know who I am anymore.’ How lame is that? Three years together, and I get tossed aside with a line from a soap opera. At least pick a better cliché. Do you think he could be a long-lost brother who’s just returned from some exploration of the Amazon? Ew, I’ve slept with him. Gross.”
Yeah, I kind of smile at that. Such a smartass. “Do you actually think Geoffrey would survive a day in the Amazon? The guy carries a messenger bag to get coffee.”
“Hmm. Good point. Can’t believe I actually thought he was the one.”
“Really? Wow.”
Tears accompany this shrug, and I know she’s more wounded than she’s letting on.
“Hannah, come on. It’s me. I’m the last person anyone you care about wants to gossip with.”
She swats at her eyes. “Another good point. Who’s the lawyer here? Oh wait, there are none in this room.”
I pull her hand from her face. “Were you fired?”
“I quit.”
“Quit? Why?”
“I don’t want to be a lawyer anymore. I never wanted to be a lawyer. I knew I could be and it would make everyone proud and make my life important…”
She stops. I wonder if that’s the first time she’s heard that out loud.
“So don’t be a lawyer.”
Her gaze crashes into mine. “Right,” she scoffs. “It’s that easy.”
“It is.”
“For you.”
I let her accusation settle between us before she huffs an apology. “Sorry, that wasn’t fair. You gave up everything to follow your dreams.”
“It sounds so poetic when you say it like that. I just remember years of fucking pain.”
She absorbs something from my confession with closed eyes. “I just want to disappear, Wes. I don’t want to do it anymore. I can’t.”
“Do what?”
“Never mind. Can we just chill for a while?”
My phone goes off before I can weigh in on her request. Shit.
“Are you going to answer that?”
“No. I’ll call her back.”
“Seriously, Wes. I came here to escape my life, not invade yours. Go take care of your business. I want to see how the Leafs did last night.”
It still feels wrong as I push myself up from the couch and brace for the call, but Hannah’s clearly done with me for now. Besides, I’ve ignored the last two already.
“Wes! Where have you been? You haven’t responded to any of my texts either.”
“Sorry, I’ve been busy.” I haven’t thought about Miranda since Hannah showed up at my door. “How’s…” I have no idea where she is.
“New York is great.”
“Great.”
“Wish you were here though. There’s this amazing restaurant we found last night that you would love. I know how you like a good burger.”
“Yeah?”
“We should go when I get back. A weekend trip?”
“Miranda…” We are not together.
“It’s the strangest thing. I’ve heard probably three Tracing Holland songs since I left. I so wish I’d had the chance to see you play. Maybe one day, eh? How’s all of that going?”
Bitch. I swallow my anger. “Fine. We had dinner the other night.” It’s a fact no one can argue.
“Oh yeah?”
Is she actually disappointed?
“Yes. Look, I’m kind of in the middle of something.” My dining room. “Talk later?”
“Of course, babe. I have to prepare for a meeting anyway. I’m sorry I won’t be there for our first Christmas together. I would have loved to meet your family.”
I don’t even know how to respond to that. “Don’t worry about it. I probably won’t be seeing them.” My stomach hurts just thinking about that disaster.
“Really?”
“Miranda, I’ve told you. I’m not on good terms with them. I have nothing to do with my father’s company, and I never will. They’ve practically disowned me.”
“I know, babe. Don’t get upset.”
I don’t do much to block my irritated sigh.
“Have a great day. Miss you.”
“Enjoy New York.”
I mutter a curse as I glare at my phone.
“Wes, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask if you were seeing anyone.”
∞∞∞
I can’t stand the genuine remorse on Hannah’s face. I also have no clue how to explain Miranda.
“I’m not really. It’s complicated.”
She nods and looks as tortured as I feel. “Are you going to tell her about last night?”
I’d laugh but that reaction would be even harder to explain. “No. Of course not.”
“I’m sorry for making you cheat on your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“The woman you’re dating then.”
“I’m not dating her.”
“The woman you’re sleeping with?”
Well… “It’s complicated.”
She sighs, and I don’t miss the darkness that washes over her face. It’s not for me. I’m afraid it’s not even for Miranda. “I’m going to go take a nap.”
That makes perfect sense to her at ten in the morning.
“Han, you okay?”
“Fine. Just tired. I didn’t sleep last night.” It would be a funny joke if the humor was in her eyes too.
“Han…” I get nothing else as she disappears into the guest room.
∞∞∞
I try to think of a time in my life when I’ve had more people pissed at me at once.
There was the night I skipped Dad’s annual show-off-his-perfect-family-to-the-board party to play a show with Holland when I was eighteen. I was homeless for four days because of that. Three furious faces that I remember, but only because I’m counting the entire Alton Media board of directors as one.
There was the time I took Hannah to get her tattoo when she turned eighteen and my guy was willing to work on her. Six, I think? That’s up there.
When Holland and I got engaged: four. When we broke up: two. My parents were insulted. Pretty sure hers threw a non-engagement party.
Now? “Now” wins. My list is “one” of people who aren’t pissed at me. Although Hannah’s been in her room since Miranda’s phone call, so I’m not entirely positive about that. Wait, she seduced me while I was asleep. I’m standing by one.
“Hannah?” I knock for the fifth time since she ran off. Still no response, and I finish the journey to my room for the night.
I’ve seen Hannah Drake dark before. She always had an edge, a melancholy cloud to her existence that used to express itself in some incredible art she believed in. She designed her own ink, and even Matt, my artist who brought it to life, was impressed. The viper slithers from her hip to her shoulder, dormant in its aggression, but eyes wild and ready for violence.
“Vipers are badass,” Hannah explained to Holland and me. “They seem lazy and slow, and then bam! Surprise strike out of nowhere. And they can measure their venom too. Did you know that? Yep, they control how much they want to release into their prey.”
For a long time Hannah was just Holland’s quiet, sarcastic, artsy sister. Then she stopped being sarcastic. Then she stopped being artsy. Then she just stopped being during her second year of university. I’ll never forget Holland’s long, frantic calls with her family during that time. We were on tour and it killed her that she couldn’t not-help at home instead of not-help on our bus. That part I didn’t get.
Thanks to the push of the love surrounding her, Hannah found pros who could help. Their collective efforts helped her piece her life back together in time to graduate with an impressive transcript and solid plan that made her family and therapist happy. She was happy too, I’m sure. And I was happy she was happy, but even happier Holland could breathe again. The plan didn’t make sense to me, but it was none of my business.
But the thing with depression is it seems lazy and slow, and then bam! Surprise strike out of nowhere.