(Ariel)
She stopped at a gas station for a Diet Coke and a filler bottle of Green Tea pills. The long, brightly wrapped display of candy bars caught her attention as she checked out. She felt magnetized, the smell of chocolate hypnotic. She was so close to picking one up – add this to my purchases, please – that her fingers curled themselves into a fetal position. Don’t Touch Don’t Touch Don’t Touch. Chocolate is sugar, sugar is fat, fat is the enemy.
Remorseful, she bought a pack of cigarettes instead. She drove the rest of the way to Highland Hills with her windows rolled down, wind blowing through her short hair. Her lips looked blue in the rearview mirror, shoulders twitching with chill. Smoke tendrils twisted from the butt of her cigarette, joining a company of clouds in the grey sky. The Green Tea pills spilled over the console of the car, crushed to tiny olive smears beneath her sneakers, Diet Coke dripping onto the stained black carpet when she lurched over speed bumps. It was Iris’s car – the spare red economy car – which normally sat and gathered dust in the corner of the garage. She had found the keys dangling from a hook in the kitchen. Why not? When, if, she returned to Redemption, Anya would be furious.
But today, wind and smoke tendrils writhing around her skin, she did not care. She felt fearless. Finally, she was flying. Nothing would pin her down to the ground.
Katrina answered the door in pajama shorts and a shocked smile, red hair rumpled around her head in messy, hairspray curls. “Babe!” She threw herself at Ariel, nearly bowling her over. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”
Ariel hugged her friend, feeling the sharpness of her bones. They had been reduced to two bony bodies, appearing shrunken and small even when pressed together. “I had to come.”
“Redemption not treating you right?” Katrina couldn’t resist cracking a joke. She had this fixation with the town – Redemption, she’d mock, full of saps like us.
Ariel shrugged, stepping into the spacious, high-ceilinged entry hall. “I might as well be living in hell.”
She almost hated visiting Katrina, because of this house. It was gorgeous, an enormous home sitting squarely in one of the most prestigious neighborhoods in Maine. Built from three stories of European imported brick, it boasted towers on either side, roof gabled with Mexican glass tiles. It had long, wide windows, illuminating the interior with natural light. A spacious garden, sporting a pool, koi fish swimming around inside, and cherry blossom trees, heavy with the weight of waxy white blossoms, stretched out behind the house. A tall, thick stone wall confined life to the estate, adding to the almost medieval appearance.
Katrina started laughing, teeth yellow, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and Ariel forgot her momentary jealousy. “You think Highland Hills is much better, babe?”
“No.” Ariel admitted. She stood at the foot of the stairs, the remnants of her Coke and pills tucked inside her messenger. This was a terrible and wonderful idea – she only had five dollars, a tube of Chap Stick, her student ID, and a handful of bobby pins with which to survive the weekend. Wonderful, because she was with Katrina. They could dance around in ragged clothes and scream Janis Joplin at the top of their lungs, like a pair of old-fashioned wild children. The world seemed to shrink when they had each other – anything could be defeated, conquered, battled out.
Friendship isn’t real…but trying to have one friend, just one, is better than living lonely.
“What’s the matter?” Katrina linked her arm through Ariel’s. “Having second thoughts about visiting your dear, insolent old friend?”
“No second thoughts, just exhaustion.” Ariel admitted. “Do you have coffee?”
Katrina waggled her eyebrows. “I have better than coffee.”
She brewed a pot of the blackest coffee Ariel had ever seen, and poured it into a large, plastic container. She retrieved a silver flask from the refrigerator, and dumped the contents inside. The coffee lightened, taking on a clear, almost caramel tinge. “Take a swig, babe.”
Ariel, perched on the hard Formica countertop of the island, accepted the container and stared into it doubtfully. It smelled terrible – coffee and alcohol mingling putridly. “Are you sure…”
“You don’t even taste it,” Katrina said. “I can add milk if you want, thicken it up a little bit.”
Milk: one cup: 150 calories. Ariel shuddered. “No. Never.” She plugged her nose, bringing the container to her lips. The liquid burned as it trickled down her throat, coffee piping hot against her tongue and the roof of her mouth. As it reached her stomach it began to warm, making her head swim. She took another long, grateful swallow.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Katrina pulled herself onto the island next to Ariel and retrieved the container, taking a sip. She grinned, rattling the empty flask in her pocket with shaking fingers. “Darling daddy really should not leave his bourbon lying around.”
Ariel grabbed the container. She closed her eyes this time, letting the alcohol rush through her system, loosening her limbs. Darling daddy. Her darling daddy had nailed his bourbon to the underside of his desk, accessible only to a child’s prying eyes. She drank again, deeply, trying to wash away the memory. Stacks of small glass bottles, filled with amber fluid
Beside her, Katrina was laughing, hiccupping. She leaned her head on Ariel’s shoulder, hair sliding over her bare skin. Her tears felt warm, hot, hotter than the liquid. “I missed you so much, babe.” Hiccup. “More than anything else in the world.”
Ariel finished the container and stared at the empty bottom mournfully. She wondered exactly how much Katrina had drunk before she arrived, and if all the bourbon was gone.
“God, I hate the world.”
“I hate it too. I hate them all.” Katrina said. “I tried, you know. I told you. I wanted to leave.”
“No. No.” Ariel said firmly. “You’re not allowed to leave me. What would I do without you?”
“We would both be lost. But…I would be gone. So then, you could be gone too.”
Her logic was infallible. Ariel was starting to question what is was that she really wanted – to become Katrina, or to leave the world like her. She watched her friend, trying to copy her movements. The free, easy way she tossed her hair away from her delicate face, the way he talked with her hands, using flamboyant, exaggerated gestures. How she smiled without really smiling – with her eyes, without her teeth. Ariel stored these facts inside her mind, habits to copy once she got home. She needed to better her portrayal of The Fearless Girl, of being confident and strong and not at all breaking apart at the seams.
They drank in silence for a while. Katrina slipped off the counter first, staggering just a little bit. She scrubbed the dried tear tracks away with her fists, flashing a brave smile, white teeth flashing, blurring as she moved. “Want to find the rest of the bourbon?”
They scoured the whole house, top to bottom, dumping out drawers and rearranging closets. Ariel found a mink stole in one of the abandoned room, and Katrina donned a pile of old, dusty costume jewelry from another. It felt exactly like old times, strutting hardwood floors like silver-platted runways, walking on tiptoes to mimic high heeled shoes. After overturning the living room, they traipsed back upstairs to trash her father’s room before they found another silver flask, hidden in a pair Italian leather wingtip shoes. Ariel refilled the container with the rest of the coffee, spilling some over her hands. She swore when the liquid left stinging, red marks on her skin.
“Here’s to your darling daddy.” Katrina said, raising the flask in the air in a mock-salute. The beads wound tightly around her fingers and throat jingled with each movement. “May they all burn in hell!”
They downed the container and stumbled outside. “Lemme drive.” Ariel put her hands to her head, trying to steady the spinning of the world. “We need more bourbon!”
“We need ice cream! We need margarita mix! We need blankets!” Katrina was screaming, laughing hysterically. It took her several tries to get the car door open, and she fell inside.
Ariel should have felt nervous as she twisted the keys, starting the engine, but all she felt was freedom, an exhilarating rush through her blood. She turned the old, booming base speakers in the back of the car up to full blast, wailing, pounding music filling the air with an almost electrical pulse. The car jerked away from the curb, rolling down the street.
“No hands! Katrina, I don’t need hands!” Giggling, Ariel touched the ceiling. She waved her arms, trying to imagine dancing, swaying her body to the fierce tempo of the music. Her fingertips grazed indents – places where the ceiling had sunken, like her ribs, into the roof of the car.
And suddenly Ariel remembered why this car sat alone, covered by a black tarp in the garage. It was Randall’s car, and it had been hidden since his death.
The car was still lurching, but the euphoric rush was slowly seeping away, rendering her body numb. She remembered rolled and flipped and wreckage. She had seen the words body, retrieved, unconscious scrolling across the television screen on that fateful day last year.
She had been with Katrina that day, too.
They were sitting in a diner, bottles of recently purchases diet pulls stacked beside them, a white pile of hospital burials. It was a farewell meal – last time eating junk food. It was the last time she remembered eating, really eating. They ordered cheeseburgers with pickles, basket after basket of fries. Ice cream sundaes, sticky with hot fudge, thick with chunks of cookie dough. She had been delirious with sugar, buzzing, until she happened to look over and see a familiar face flash up on the television.
Short, dark hair. Feminine curves to his facial bones, that uncertain, crooked smile. Skinny shoulders hunched. Randall.
She couldn’t remember any of the rest of that night, only driving and crying and accident. Death, a sorrowful five letter word that changed her life.
“Babe.” Katrina was tugging on the steering wheel. “Babe! I don’t want to die! I want to choose how I go!” She started laughing. Then screaming, screaming, screaming as a sports car hurtled towards them, the yellow lines on the road readjusting.
Ariel yanked the wheel blindly, spots becoming a black storm across her vision. Screaming, screaming, screaming, and the spots disappeared.
The sky was such a beautiful blue. Ariel could see through the window shield now, how close that car had come to colliding with them. The driver flipped her off as his car zoomed past, and she let out a breathless laugh.
“Katrina.” They were fine. Driving on the right side of the road, inching to the pace of traffic. “Kat?”
Katrina was curled into a fetal position on her side, head buried on her knees. Her hair was spread around her, looking like long, winding strands of blood as it slipped down her arms and back. “God.” She was sobbing. “God, Ariel. I thought we were going to die.”
Ariel took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the road. Her head felt steadier, arms stronger, fingers clutching the wheel firmly. “At least we would have been together.” She said lightly. “Right?”
“Wrong.” Katrina mumbled. “I can’t die, babe. I can’t. I’m not ready.” She was running her fingers up and down her forearms, pushing her sleeves to her elbows, exposing a latticework of scars. Ariel glanced over and sucked in her breath. The last cut, a slowly healing shade of pink, was directly over the vein in her wrist.
Dying didn’t sound quite as glamorous as it had between sips of coffee and bourbon. The frightening realization of it – the finality, the darkness, the sheer end of it – was beginning to sink in. I want to live. I want to live. Ariel felt dirty, guilty, ashamed. All this time she had spent trying to die, while living in a household where she had seen what death did to loved ones. Maybe it hadn’t been directly, just a thought on the tip of a pill, coming to fruition today.
She – Katrina – had placed themselves directly in the path of death. And if they couldn’t even help themselves, how could they help each other. She imagined taking each Green Tea pill and crushing it underneath her foot, a collage of green smears decorating the carpet. Another opportunity, gone. Finished.
“I don’t think it’s something you can prepare for.” Ariel said finally, lamely. “But…it’s something you can work towards.”
Katrina gripped her head in her hands. She dug her fingers in her hair, white skin flashing among crimson. “I can’t take this anymore.”
“You have to take this, Kat.” Ariel chewed on her lip. She couldn’t get the car out of her head – hurtling, speeding, fast towards them. “How close do you think we were?”
“God.” Katrina moaned, inhaling snot noisily. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes before raising her head, expression bleak. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m so sorry.”
Ariel slowed the car, pulling over to the side of the road. “I know. I know.” They sat in silence, each studying their separate flaws, immersed in their mistakes. “What now?”
Katrina pulled her hair away from her face, twisting it into a ponytail with the hair tie on her wrist. She looked like a wreck, eyes red, dark circles sinking into her skin. Her cheeks were blotchy, mouth twisted with regret, pain, exhaustion. “The store.” She croaked. She cleared her throat, coughing. “I still need ice cream.”
The familiar flicker of fear lingered, panic rising up when Ariel thought of eating. But she kept replaying that moment, the car hurtling towards her, and she thought that maybe not eating was hurtling her into the inevitable future the same way. She pulled away, merging onto the road.
The store. Ice cream.
She suppressed her fear. Tomorrow, she wouldn’t eat. 0 calories. Except, maybe, coffee. Some bourbon would help fill her stomach. After near-death, the least she could do was buy herself ice cream.
***