I didn’t count on feeling this angry.
As Ana’s words sink in, I feel a combination of pity and relief. But as she keeps talking, my anger brims to the surface.
“That’s why I think you should leave,” she says. “For your own sake. My brother’s not well, and it’s not fair for you to carry his burden.”
I want to tell her that nothing is fair. Being born in a bigger body, growing up under the shadow of your parents, loving someone who won’t love you back. But I suspect she already knows all that.
We walk back to the house, but I can’t go inside. Not yet. So I leave Ana at the front door, telling her I need to think things through. I can tell she wants to be alone, too. This day has been too much for both of us.
I walk to the shop up the road. I spot a bottle of vodka on the top shelf, and motion to the shopkeeper. I don’t wait for my change. Outside, I take large swigs, as if they can somehow burn away the resentment in my throat. The resentment at Seb. At myself. Vodka splashes onto the tar as I take another slug. How similar we are to liquid, slipping through the cracks of life.
Walking to the dock, I feel lighter. I sit on the bench under the trees and feel the thumping in my chest. My heart beats with rage, red and raw. I take out my phone, and see I’ve brought my old one by mistake. I must have left the new one in the bedroom. I think of calling Alice and sharing this newfound truth, but I don’t.
I need to calm down first.
I sit until the fog rolls over the tops of the trees, and the sky turns a dark purple. I hear a car engine and turn, squinting into the darkness and seeing its headlights. I wonder if Richard just got home, but it’s too close to Alma’s house to be his. It must be Seb. I hear the car door open and close. I picture him talking to Ana—him reeling back in shock and fear as she tells him about this afternoon’s happenings. I get up and walk onto the wooden boards of the dock. The fog swirls as I go, making me stronger, more confident.
I imagine Seb weighing his options. Tell the truth, or lie to me again. I wonder whether he’ll come and look for me. I look back, but I can barely see the road now. It’s like the fog’s devoured me and made me a part of it.
And so I wait right here. No way forward, no way back.
It feels like an hour has passed, and I’m starting to think it was Richard’s car that I saw after all. No one’s come to find me. I’ve had too much to drink, and I can barely see anything around me. There’s a violent throbbing in my head, so I swallow down two ibuprofens. Eleanor’s rule: always carry something with you for a headache.
She wouldn’t wash them down with vodka, but we’re way past that now.
I sit cross-legged on the edge of the dock. I want Seb to see me clearly when he passes through the mist, like clarity waiting for him at the end of the path. The water swells gently below me, and I don’t know why I was ever afraid of it before. It adds to the calm.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men. Couldn’t put Humpty together again.
It’s funny how sitting here brings me so much peace. Even with all my broken parts, I suddenly feel capable of picking them up and carrying them with me. No more relying on others to put me back together.
Because some things remain broken, and it’s fine that way.
I take another swig of vodka and feel the threads of my life ravel and unravel. But I’m getting impatient. Tired of waiting for the truth to come. I think of walking to Alma’s house and confronting Seb. Of walking to Deb’s house and exposing Richard and his lies. So many truths to uncover in this street.
But before I can decide what to do, I see a figure approaching through the mist.