Because we knew Macy wouldn't come down, Mom asked me to bring her dinner to bed. Uncle Roger stayed to eat with us and then went home after. Macy never came out of her room the whole night. She did, however, use the bathroom. I do know that for sure because our rooms are connected by a bathroom. I was able to hear her throwing up, which must mean that the detoxification process has started. I wanted to go in there, but I didn't want to intrude if she didn't want me to.
It's one in the morning, and I'm lying in bed in a silk satin pink pajama top and matching panties. I stare at the ceiling, constantly worrying about Macy. Thinking back on the chat in the office, I wondered what they meant when they said she had been through a traumatic event that set this wheel in motion. How could a 17-year-old get her hands on so many drugs, and why would she want to? What drove her and Daniel to become addicted.
I wanted to just barge in there and demand she tell me what the hell happened after our friendship ended. But it wasn't my place. I just wish she would have come to me when shit hit the ceiling in her life. I don't blame her though because I know it's partially my fault, I didn't reach out. I should have fought harder to keep her as a friend or to prevent the football team from bullying her. I turn over to look out the window and see the full moon beaming through the glass. Macy's face pops into my head, and I smile at the million freckles on her face and her full lips.
My cheeks flush as I recall the kiss we had. I shouldn't have said I would have never done it because, to be honest, that was a lie. I enjoyed kissing her and would do it again in a heartbeat. Her soft lips on mine caused my stomach to do cartwheels. I look out at the night sky, smiling to myself at my thoughts when a piercing scream erupts from the other room. I sit up, wondering if maybe I was just hearing things. But just as quickly as it vanished, the screaming returned. I rushed out of bed to see what was going on.
After walking through the bathroom, I open the door to the other bedroom. When I peek in, I find Macy tossing and turning in her bed. As she kicks and yells, I rush to her side to wake her up. I rest my hand on her forehead, while sweat flows down her brow, and notice she's burning up. I vigorously shake her in an attempt to wake her out of her nightmare, but she does not budge. I'm relieved my brother and sister aren't here. I don't want them to see her like this. It would frighten them. Hell, it terrifies me. But I can't think about that right now. My parents' room is upstairs on the opposite end of the house, so they can't hear her. The only way to reach them is for me to call on my phone. Dad installed panic buttons in every room courtesy of her work with uncle Roger, but I'm confident I can handle this. At least, I think I can.
"Mom, no, what are you doing! Please, Mom! Please," I hear her cry. As she begins to hyperventilate and sob in her sleep, it becomes clear that I have to wake her up from this intense nightmare. I rush to the bathroom and turn on the showerhead. After pulling back the blankets, I lift her up and carry her to the bathroom. Stepping under the showerhead while wearing all of our clothes, I set her down in the tub and pulled her in between my legs.
The sudden touch of ice-cold water jolts her awake, and she gasps from the sensation. "What the hell Adelaide?"
"You had a panic attack in your sleep Mays. I had to." She reaches to turn the water off and leans back into me, trying to steady her frantic breath.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"Of course." We sit there in silence for a minute until her breathing becomes normal. She starts to get up, and my hands subconsciously move to her hips to help her.
Her eyes rolled at me. "You find any reason to touch me, don't you?" She snatches a towel off the rack and walks back into her room.
"Sorry." She doesn't accept my apology, and instead, I stand there admiring her while she dries her long wavy hair. My eyes linger on her backside, memorizing every dip and curve as her wet clothes stick to her body. A throat is cleared, pulling me out of my trance.
"Can you turn around, please?" She asks while waving her clean shorts that she's about to change into in the air.
"Oh, yeah, sorry" I turned around to let her change. After a few seconds, a soft 'okay' is heard. I turn around and am met with her in booty shorts and a sports bra. I instantly covered my eyes, not wanting to be disrespectful for looking at her body when I wasn't allowed... Even though I was just doing that... and got caught.
"I'm sorry, I thought you said it was okay for me to turn around." I panic.
She chuckles. "It is. This is what I wear to bed sometimes." I uncover my eyes and let them trail down her body. Brown freckles cover everywhere, and I can't help but feel butterflies in my stomach from the view. It's weird to go from always seeing her in sweatpants and hoodies, to now seeing her this exposed.
"You know you're still dripping all over the floor right? In only your panties and shirt." I look down at what I'm wearing and mentally facepalm, pulling my damp shirt lower to cover myself.
"Right, shoot. Okay, goodnight, sorry about the cold water again," I say quickly, running through the bathroom and back to my room.
I close the door and sigh against it. Pulling myself together, I dry myself off and grab a new nightshirt and panties out of my dresser. Getting into bed and staring at the ceiling once more, I patiently wait for sleep to take me. My thoughts shift back to Macy yelling at her mother in her dream when I hear a creak. I divert my attention to the bathroom door, which is slowly opening. The moonlight illuminates her and shines perfectly against her warm ivory skin. "I couldn't sleep... can I lay with you?" She murmurs into the darkness. I nod my head yes and notice she put a hoodie over her sports bra and shorts. She climbs under the covers into my bed, and I lie on my side to face her. "Hi."
"Hi," I smile back. She starts to bite on the hoodie again, and the habit ticks me off. I bring my hand to pull it out, and this time she lets me without pulling away.
She slightly chuckles. "Why do you always feel the need to touch me?"
"I don't know. It's as if, despite you pushing me away, there is a greater force pulling me towards you."
"Awww, Pillow Princess." She says mockingly, and I furrow my brow.
"Yeah no, that pull I'm feeling is from your annoying habit of chewing on your damn sleeve as if you're uneasy around me. Do I make you nervous?"
Her honey brown eyes connect with mine as her lips part to answer, but nothing comes out. She looks at my hand still on her wrist. "You have a tattoo?"
"Yeah, Mom and Dad, let me get a penguin because..."
"You love them, I know," she says, stopping me. I smile at her
"You remembered?" She nods her head and gets up from my bed, leaving to go back to her room. I am confused for a minute before she walks back in with a stuffed penguin.
I sit up when she gets back into bed and hands me the toy. "Oh my goodness, is this Mr. Pengie?" She nods, her head grinning. Macy gave me Mr. Pengie on my 12th birthday. When her birthday came around, I gave it back to her because I thought she needed it more. I told her if she ever needed me, to just squeeze it, and I'd know. Either she never squeezed it, or I was just oblivious to her ever needing me.
"How do you still have this?"
Her smile falls. "I kept it because you gave it to me. Whenever I felt alone or scared, I'd hug it. There were some days I would be so strung out that the only thing I could focus on was the toy. So, I'd just lay with it and ride out the waves of the drugs... I would still have the charm bracelet you gave me too, but it was lost when I moved in with Daniel after the... adoption."
She stops talking, staring at the old gift. I guess it was the latter. The fact that Macy had to rely on the stuffed animal for comfort shattered me. I was ashamed of myself for ruining our friendship for the sake of popularity. She grabs the stuffed animal from me, and her hoodie sleeve rises. For the first time, I noticed injection sites and bruises all up to her arm. I grab her arm and pull her sleeve all the way up. She tries to pull away, but my grip is tighter.
"Mays, what the hell? You said you didn't shoot heroin?"
"It's not heroin injections. I would never do the one thing that killed my..." She catches herself before finishing. She sighs, "Can we just talk about this tomorrow Addy? I'm tired." She takes her arm back and lies down on her side to face me. I breathe deeply and lay down as well, facing her. Her body continues to sweat profusely from the withdrawal. We lay in silence staring into each other's eyes, not wanting to speak about the subject anymore. It was anything but awkward though, it was peaceful actually. The light from the window beaming off her eyes made them look like warm pools of honey. I start to count the tiny brown specks on her cheeks, and she scrunches her nose cutely to mess me up. We both giggle, but words never come out of our mouths. We were content just being in each other's presence. This was something I missed.