N E B U L A
A cloud of dust and gas in space, usually illuminated by one or more stars. Nebulae represent the raw material the stars are made of.
T O T H E
M O O N & B A C K
WE LEFT THE hospital just over half an hour ago. We stopped at this breakfast place down the street from my parent's house, but they were too busy, so dad and I stopped by the grocery store and picked up a few things to make something. Since having four children, my father has learned to cook a few things, but the only thing that actually tastes pleasant is his pancakes.
It's the only thing I can make, too.
When we arrive at my fathers' house, the lights are on and we walk inside with bags in hand. He closes the door behind me and I am instantly greeted by Prim at the door. I drop my keys on the entryway table and pet her before following behind my father into the kitchen.
Alula's sitting at the kitchen island, her faded pink hair tucked behind her ears as she scrolls through her phone. I don't see my mother but I hear the shower running upstairs.
At the sound of our arrival, Alula glances over at us, freezing when she sees me before she sighs in relief. I know my father lied to mother about where I was—or more so where I wasn't—last night, but Alula, father, and I all look like spitting images of each other right now, I wouldn't be surprised if she is suspicious.
"You're back." Alula says toying with her long faux nails and I nod, placing the plastic bags down on the counter. "Where the hell were you?"
I run my fingers through my hair as I lean against the bench opposite her. "I stayed with a friend." I say quietly.
Rory isn't a friend. But that's none of Alula's business.
She nods slowly, narrowing her eyes and it irritates me. Her green eyes show disbelief. "A friend?" she repeats and my father turns around to send her a warning look as he unloads the bags and preheats the stove. "And did you forget you have a phone?"
I roll my eyes, my hands gripping the edge of the counter on each side of me. "It died."
Now she rolls her eyes, nodding. "What a coincidence." she rests her chin atop her hand, glaring at me. "What if something bad happened? What if mum and dad got into an accident? What if I was calling you for help?"
I push off the counter. "What if I just happened to answer that time?" I turn the question back around on her. "Exactly. I probably wouldn't. Just like your scenarios probably wouldn't happen."
She huffs before taking her phone off the countertop and beginning to scroll through Instagram. She knows I'm right. And even if I'm not, I will make sure I at least sound right.
I watch as my sister closely analyses the girls being portrayed on her screen. I squint as she zooms in on a girl in a bikini, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her eyes light up before begins typing something beneath the picture.
I zone out momentarily as my father does something in the background and Prim licks her metal bowl clean, where it sits near the archway, making an obnoxious scraping sound as she nudges it from one end of the room, to the complete opposite end.
As children, despite Alula being a girl and me a boy, we were almost impossible to tell apart at times. But then we grew up and Alula's dark hair got lighter, mine got darker. Her blue eyes faded into a sea-green and mine turned to stone.
It makes me wonder if we were ever alike aside from physical appearance. I'm stubborn, she's a push over. I'm angry, she's calm. I'm depressed, she's content. She has self-control, I don't. Was I once calm? Was I once. . .I don't know. . .content? Or was she once stubborn too, but she had to learn to be less grounded because of me and my actions.
What would my family be like right now if I stayed the way I was when I was fourteen? What would my family be like if I succeeded on my first attempt? Maybe my mother's smile would reach her eyes again. Maybe my father wouldn't look so tired all the time. Maybe Alula wouldn't feel on edge so constantly.
I know people say killing yourself is selfish because it just passes your pain onto the people you leave behind but for some reason, I have never cared. If I could leave and be forgotten forever, I would. If I could leave without leaving a single imprint of my existence on this earth, I fucking would. Every breath of air I exhaled, every word I spoke to be absorbed by my surroundings, even the mere sound of my name. If I could erase it all, I would.
I think that saying is selfish because some people simply just don't want to be here—they can't bear it. That stupid fucking concept of suicide being selfish makes people's last seconds on this earth spent feeling guilty, rather than saying goodbye and feeling at peace, just for once.
Maybe it is selfish, in a way. But it's like telling someone with stage five cancer to just live because you want them to. They can't. And some would laugh if I told them depression isn't a disease, but it is. It never goes away; you can't get rid of it. You can ignore it, but that doesn't take away from the fact that it still fucking hurts.
"Atlas," my father says my name, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Pills, please."
I turn to face him, seeing he's taken my two pills from my two containers and placed them on one counter. I take five breaths before I nod. And then I grab the glass of water handed to me and swallow each one individually. Two gulps, two times I swallow.
One mood stabilizer.
One anti-depressant.
Every morning is like this. But this is the first time in weeks that I have personally been able to actually place them in my own mouth. I don't know if that means they are working, or if that just means I got tired of being sober, so I did something about it. Maybe it's both.
He watches me, unashamed, until he knows for certain that I swallowed them before he gestures for me to come over to the stove. I do so, walking over and he passes me the spatula, before using a ladle to scoop some of the pale mixture from the bowl and onto the non-stick pan.
We do this for the next fifteen minutes or so; him dispersing the mixture and me flipping the pancakes, then transferring them onto the plate. Alula remains silently scrolling on her phone and my father talks to me about college and working at the mechanic. He strays away from conversations like asking me how I'm feeling or if I'm okay, and for a little while, it's quite nice being spoken to like his son rather than a homeless dog that won't leave his house.
"Prim, that bowls empty now, honey." I hear the soft sound of my mother's voice. Even being twenty-two I still can't decipher whether my father and mother's accents sound more British or American.
I keep my back to her, flipping the last pancake as she strides over to my sister. I hear the sound of her kissing Alula on the head before she comes toward my father and I. In my peripheral vision, I can see her in that floral silk robe she wears often, as she wraps her arms around my father's waist and hugs him.
He kisses the top of her head, smiling down at her and I cringe. How can two people be so overly affectionate and loving? And along with that, after almost thirty years of being together. I find it hard to believe that people can love one another as passionately as my parents do each other.
"Atlas," my father says, placing her hand on my forearm and I turn to face her and she offers me that usual smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "You're up. How are you feeling, baby?"
Per usual, her tone is motherly and genuine. I shrug. "Fine."
Her expression doesn't falter but I know she hoped for more—for me to say more. I wish I could tell her that I'm doing great and mean it, but I can't. And in my circumstances, I cannot lie to her, so fine will have to do. It doesn't give too much away.
She lets go of my arm as my father tells her to go sit down. I place the last pancake onto the plate before switching the stove off and grabbing the warm plate stacked high with pancakes and walk over to the dining table where my mother sits, waiting eagerly.
I sit down across from my mother at the transparent glass table and Alula assists my father with getting the toppings before dad sits next to mum and Alula sits next to me.
"Thank you for breakfast." my mother beams, her face being the only light in this dull kitchen.
I force a tight smile before we all begin to serve ourselves. I have three, Lu has two, mum has two, and dad has four. I give Prim half.
I douse mine in maple syrup and butter meanwhile my father quite literally drowns his in whipped cream to the extent that none of the pancakes on his porcelain plate is visible. Alula and I are both staring at him strangely whilst he gives my mother a suggestive look, his eyes moving from the cream over to her, before we turn to each other with wide eyes.
"So," Alula speaks up, breaking the silence. "I've been thinking about changing majors."
My mother cocks an eyebrow. "Again?" she says and suddenly my sister looks discouraged. "I mean, first photography, then business. Experiment all you want, sweetie, but what now?"
Alula's eye twitches as she thinks before looking over to me slowly. "Nursing."
"Nursing?" my father repeats. "Why nursing?"
My mother shoots her husband a look and he appears as though he wishes to retract his words. My parents are supportive, my sister is just indecisive, and they want her to graduate. . .eventually. They want her to be set on something.
I wonder what it's like to want multiple things out of life—so many that you cannot decide.
"I want to save people." she says confidently. "And I'd look rather lovely in a nurses uniform."
My mother snorts and I roll my eyes. "I disagree." I intervene and now it's her turn to roll her eyes.
"If you want to save people, then save people. We'll support you no matter what, sweetheart. Just make sure that this is something you truly want." my father says sternly and Alula nods.
Eventually, we all finished breakfast and for the first time in so long, I feel full. Mother thanks us—especially me—for breakfast and claimed that it was delicious. Alula helped my father clean up and I made my way upstairs discretely, feeling drained from all the speaking I have had to do this morning.
When I reach my bedroom, I close the door behind me and collapse onto the bed. I have only slept two hours and today has already been fucking exhausting. I lie there for what feels like hours, but is actually only minutes before there is a soft knock at my door. Eight knocks, which signifies my mother.
Although I don't answer she still enters anyway.
I am able to muster up enough strength to sit up, leaning against the wall and she walks in and sits down on the edge of my bed.
"Your father and I leave to visit Mercy in Italy in two days." she says and I already know where this conversation is going. "Your sister suggested that I allow you to go back to your apartment, but I'm scared, Atlas." she turns to me with glassy red eyes. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"
I shake my head. I know they would rather I be at my apartment than me be here alone. Maybe it's because they don't trust me, I don't know. But I don't really care. I physically cannot decide whether it's worse being here or at my own apartment.
"I'll be fine." I say, my tone half as lifeless as I feel. "Don't worry about me, momma."
She smiles sweetly and nods but she doesn't seem happy. "Alula will check up on you. You can return to work and school when you're comfortable. And I will bring some groceries over tomorrow, okay?"
I nod. "You don't need to. I'll be fine."
God, I'm getting fucking sick of the word fine.
After that conversation, I don't waste any time before grabbing my keys and leaving. Mother makes sure I remember to take my medication and then she walks me out. She kisses my cheek and tells me to call her—she knows I won't, though—she tells me to stay safe and take care of myself. She reminds me that she will be home before I know it, but I don't really care.
She even offers to let me take Prim for the company but I tell her no because I will forget to feed her. I can't even feed myself. I wish I was responsible enough to care for a dog because ever since my childhood dog Grey died, I have always wanted another dog that is wholly and solely mine, but I know that isn't smart in the slightest.
I leave after promising I will be safe. Once I tell her that I will call her, she smiles. When she asks me to take care of myself, I almost say no promises, but I resist, and nod instead. Then, she hugs me like she will never see me again and thanks me for breakfast, again.
I couldn't get into my car any quicker. I speed home and before I know it, I'm parking my car beneath my apartment building. The moment I step into the elevator, I feel ill. As I reach my level and walk down the hall to my door, I find myself wanting to go back.
Before I can even open the door, I feel my anxiety heighten within a split second. My lungs feel as though they are failing to expand, my throat is closing up, and I feel as though I'm gasping for air but not receiving enough to function.
I am about to open the door when I notice the stack of unopened envelopes at my feet. Usually, I would step over it, but the familiar cursive font imprinted on the top of the pile has me leaning down to pick them up.
Using my spare hand, I turn the doorknob and push it open. Instantly I'm met with the familiar scent of vacancy and loneliness. I never knew those feelings had a smell, but they do. It smells like a nebula of dust and staleness. It smells like an overly large, barely lived in apartment.
I place my mail down on the counter and move them apart sparsely and notice not one but two with that writing. I take those two and toss the rest in the rubbish bin, wasting no time before opening the first one.
Dear Atlas,
You haven't answered any of my calls or texts since I left for Canada. I think you might hate me now. You and I used to joke all the time about how silly letters were, so I thought I would write you one now, that way I won't actually know if you read it or not and get sad. And maybe if you don't write back, I'll presume your letter got lost during delivery.
Point is, I miss my big brother. I know I have two other older siblings, but something about having a big brother is far better than a big sister. Something happened the other week, Atlas. Since I moved here with Harlow, I have dated some questionable people and it seems as though now I have a problem to deal with. I'm in denial, so I won't say what it is, but point is, I have no one to talk to. I feel like you won't judge me, and honestly, part of me is maybe hoping you won't even read this.
I don't know why I'm telling you this, maybe I'm just hoping you'll come and save me. You were always saving me, which makes me wonder. . .do you need saving too? Maybe you're fine and this is just my sisterly instincts.
I don't know how to end letters.
Love,
Everly.
I drop the letter and my heart pulsing loudly in my ears becomes even more apparent.
Holy fuck.
My little sister is pregnant.
I suddenly feel overwhelmed and I want nothing other than to go see her and make sure she's okay. I want to write back and tell her I do need saving, but no one can save me. I want to tell her she will be okay and I won't tell anybody, but in the end, I decide not to write back at all.
I wouldn't know what to say. I don't know how to sound normal anymore and I don't want to taint the way she thinks of me and mess up. She's the only person that doesn't know what I'm really like. She thinks I'm normal, therefore she treats me normal.
I don't read the second letter; I decide to leave it for now. I feel my hands tingling, my pulse beating erratically. I can't breathe. I hate it here. I hate me. I hate everything. I want to help her but I can't—I don't know how.
Hastily, I search for my phone and find it in my back pocket. I use my facial recognition to unlock my phone before going into my text messages and messaging her.
(Me, 9:43 AM)
I need someone to listen.
Within seconds she replies with:
I'm coming.
A U T H O R ' S N O T E
hi everyone!
i hope y'all liked this chapter. my baby everly finally made an appearance, he'll continue to get a few letters from her. also we hit one mill on loving lakyn!!
anyways please remember to vote, comment, and follow me, as well as read 'always atlas' by Gemma_Grace_
anyways i love you all.
see you soon <3