The Echo of my Shouts

Chapter 3

I chew on her words. Trying to make sense of it all. I know it is true at some level, and yet I refuse to believe it.

"I love Timothy. I really do."

I say it with conviction. Almost like it is an excuse to everything Lucy is accusing me of.

"I never said you didn't," she answers as she takes the first sip of her champagne, leaving me to follow suit, tasting the sour bubbles that runs down my throat.

"I've never really liked champagne. I don't get the whole fuss about it," I say leaning over to put down my glass on the clear glass table between us. "And who is paying for all of this? Still daddy? Damn, I had no idea you were voted most likely to live in Barbie's playhouse."

I look around at the walls again. Here and there are white orchids to break the colour, together with the couches, but for the whole everything is pink.

"Pink is my happy colour. Now, don't change the subject," Lucy answers. "What the fuck are you going to do about all the shit you have dumped yourself into? You need to forget about Blake. I just finished reading your latest book, and I can confidently say it is the most depressing piece of shit I have ever read. No wonder Timothy wants to leave you. You must be a nightmare to live with."

"The New York Times called it a wake-up call for the masses who take love for granted. They called it 'yet another triumph'," I quote.

"Yes, and if you slit your wrists... again... What will they print then? That they were stupid enough to not recognise an outcry for help by a famous writer so depressed that he never wrote one happy word in his life?" Lucy asks. "Come on Elijah. We have known each other long enough to not pretend. Here we are, bantering like nothing is wrong. Like we were planning a little reunion of reading one another after watching another episode of Drag Race. And yet, we need to address the white elephant in the room so that I can get you off my couch and back in the arms of your husband. So, what the fuck are you doing here Elijah? Seriously. And don't come with that 'I want to be saved' bullshit. Be serious."

As always my mouth hangs open at Lucy's honesty. If someone didn't know her they might have thought her rude, but it was different whenever we have been together. Lucy says things the way they are because she actually cares. Because she sees through me. Because she truly just wants me to be happy in the end.

"I need to end it all," I whisper. "I have to end the past and leave it behind, or kill myself or something. I just know it all needs to end some way or another."

I swallow at the lump that is forming in my throat, and then I pick up the glass once more to take another sip, pulling a bit of a face as the sour bubbles hits my tongue.

"You've said that so many times that it has lost all meaning," Lucy sighs. "How many times Elijah? How many more times are you gonna go to Blake's grave to say goodbye one final time? How many times are you writing on just one more book so that you can put him in the past? When the fuck are you going to admit that it has nothing to do with Blake, but about you? That these books are keeping you young. That it is tying you to a time in your youth, a split second in time when you were happy as a kid, because you never really had a childhood at all? We all know it. We have all seen it. We all see the way you fear your birthday. How you try and avoid it. And it has nothing to do with Blake. It has to do with you Elijah. Because you are trying to stop time, or go back in time to find your happiness, and all along it is staring you in the face and passing you by as you try to grab a hold of a moment from yesterday."

It felt like a bucket of icy water flowing over me, dunking me into a watery grave where I struggled to gasp for air. Because there it was. The truth. The truth I could never put into words. The words that I could never admit. The admittance that felt to pathetic to say out loud.

"I don't want to be happy," I say as my shoulders start vibrating and the first sob tears through my body. "I don't deserve it. I have it and I don't want it."

"Oh baby," Lucy whispers as she makes her way over to me and pull me into a hug. "I know. I know... It's not easy. You haven't been dealt a lot of good things in life. That's why you don't know what to do with happiness when it comes your way. I think you're just holding on to the sadness because it is the only thing you know. It's what feels familiar."

I push her away and look her in the eyes.

"Why am I so fucktup?" I ask as yet another sob escapes my throat.

"I don't know," she answers. "But you need to fix this. No... We need to fix this. This can't go on any longer. I really thought if I never saw you again, you would not be reminded of the old wounds, but fuck knows, I miss my gay pet, and I am telling you. No more. We are going to fix this, and we are flying you back to that gorgeous hunk you married, and you are going to screw him all night long. So you hear me?"

The smile that broke over her face was imitated in mine, although mine was full of tears as well.

"I have a meeting with my PR person tomorrow. She's like my agent and publicist and everything. And Steven will be there as well. He's my lawyer and like my only friend. I'd like it if you were there tomorrow," I say to Lucy as I take her hand. "I can't do this without you."

"Is Steven hot?" she asks to which I nod my head.

"Yep. He looks a little bit like Zac Efron when he was still hot," I answer thinking back on a movie night where Lucy and I could not keep ourselves from drooling over him in 17 Again.

"Which probably means he's gay," Lucy sighs. "Which is my unfortunate fucking curse it seems. Every time I fall in love the guy is either gay or an asshole."

"Well any guy willing to enter this pink monstrosity of a house has to either be very gay, or just into the sex and leaving immediately after," I say as I allow a bit of a laugh to escape my lips. "Maybe you need some saving as well?"

"Okay, we can deal with my issues as soon as we have ended yours. Now seriously, is he gay?" Lucy asks, now also laughing as she grabs my glass of champagne and empties it in one big gulp.

"Never asked," I answer pulling up my shoulders.

"Oh for fuck sakes. I guess we are back to Lucy having to do everything herself," she answers, giving me a light punch with her manicured hands, making me smile once more.

"It's good to me back," I answer as I whip my hair out of my eyes, and try my best to envision a future in which I might actually allow myself to be happy.