I wasn't sure how I pulled enough courage out of my waning soul to take myself to work the next morning. My first day went well considering the circumstances, but my mind was elsewhere, overthinking everything possible. The scene I woke up to did not help matters, and I tried my best to rationalise it in my head. Just because I thought I saw something, does not mean that it happened, right?
When I peeled my crusty eyes open after a terrible night's sleep, I had a few blissful moments where my brain didn't remember the pain. It was wonderful, but it didn't take long for the harrowing sensations to hit me hard enough to suck the air from my lungs and force me up and out of bed. My feet shuffled across the carpet to my bedroom door, where I opened it with a shaking hand to bump straight into Tulia as she walked right out of Joshua's bedroom.
It was a bit of a challenge to get my body moving at first, and when my eyes set sight on Joshua's bed, I wished I hadn't moved at all. Sound asleep, his face pressed into the pillows, he lay with the bedsheets rumpled next to him. White fiery rage went through me. Along with the lonely feelings of betrayal. Deception won out as I let myself study every bit of the scene in front of me, wondering the worst things.
It didn't look good, and my mind was overthinking in every direction possible.
Tulia turned her head slowly to look at me, her eyes picking up on my panic. "Morning, sweetheart."
Don't patronise me, sweetheart, I thought, brushing by her to head for the bathroom.
Finding it near impossible to catch my breath when I got inside there, my legs collapsed from underneath me as I rolled over to rest on my side, letting my arms rest on my bent knees. How could he do that to me? Just let a woman inside his safe space?
I spent way too long thinking about this before gathering myself up to climb into the shower cubicle. The warm water soothed me as much as it could do when I tipped my face back to submerge it. I held my breath and listened to the pitter-patter of the water hitting the basin.
The pleasant stream of water rained all over my face as I let the tears come again. My eyes were puffy and felt sore, but the tears weren't stopping just yet, even when I reached up my hands to rub at them. It didn't work, only seeming to irritate them more.
This entire house held memories of Megan, her belongings everywhere you turned, and it was absolute agony. I kicked at her shampoo bottles neatly stacked on the edge and ripped her body puff from its place hanging on the wall. I needed to get out of here.
Barely cleaning myself, I got out of the shower to dry and dress in the clothes I picked out this morning. I paired my cream, high-waisted wool maxi skirt with a lilac silk blouse that made the whole outfit look like a one-piece.
I didn't bother to do anything with my hair apart from staring at myself in the mirror for a long time as I blow dried it and pinned it into a low bun. Makeup was a no-go considering I did not understand, nor could I predict the emotions that would take over me.
I told myself not to look in his bedroom door when I resurfaced from getting ready. That it would only upset me again to have to see those sheets and them together, but that became impossible when I heard him whimper. I spotted him sitting up in his bed, and the relief of not finding Tulia next to him shocked me.
I turned my head to the side once I got a sneaky look at him when passing his room, digging around in my handbag for nothing in particular. I heard his mattress ache under his weight and then his bare feet padding across the floor. I heard his quiet sniffles and bit the side of my mouth, knowing that if I looked up, I would be a blubbering mess.
Using the strap on my heels as an excuse, I fiddled with the clasp, hoping he would go back to his room and leave me alone.
No such luck when he cleared his throat and croaked, "Tabby, why are you dressed?"
"Work," I replied, not in the mood to explain myself.
That puzzled him. "You're going in today?"
"Yes."
"Do you think that's a good idea?" he said, genuine concern to his tone when he stepped forward to pull me into his arms.
He must've seen the bitterness in my eyes when he thought better of it to let his arms drop to his sides. I moved my handbag strap, so it sat at the top of my shoulder and put on a brave face. "I want to keep my mind occupied, and it's my first day. I can't call in sick."
He tried to smile. "I'm sure that the circumstances would be a valid enough excuse."
"I need to keep my mind busy," I repeated, itching to get out of that door.
"Right, well, so long as you're sure," he said, and I had used that as my excuse to rush out of the place.
And, as I locked up the library door for the day at 5 o'clock that evening, wondering what awaited me back at the flat. On the bus journey home, I stared at my phone, going through old pictures, videos and messages from my best friend with tears in my eyes and a half-smile on my face. It had only been a day, and I missed her like crazy.
The living room floor was full of pictures when I stepped through the door, my eyes catching onto a younger Megan on some of them when I used the wall as a balance to slip off my shoes. Joshua sat cross-legged on the carpet with Tulia, who had a bundle of Polaroids in her hands, sitting beside him.
They both looked up, but I used my handbag as a distraction once again as I hurried off into the kitchen. I threw down my bag onto the floor and pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge to get myself a glass. The alcohol was helping to settle me slightly as I kicked back and leant against the kitchen cupboards, glass in hand.
"Tabby," Joshua's voice startled me. My eyes levelled from the floor to his when he asked, "Hey, how was your first day?"
My eyes dropped from his pleading ones to my wine glass. "It was okay. Dragged a bit, but I expected that."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Today seemed to go on forever." There was a shakiness in his voice that I didn't like. It made me want to go over there to comfort him, but then my confidence wouldn't let me in case he rejected me.
I sighed. "Yeah."
"I keep seeing her around this place," he blurted, motioning to the surrounding space with a distraught expression.
My resolve melted at the crack in his voice as I agreed with him. "Me too. I keep wanting to call out her name and tell her about my day."
"Me too," he whispered.
I sipped more wine, watching his feet shuffle back and forth against the tile floor. My head tipped up when Tulia shouted for him, saying she had found the 'perfect one', whatever that meant. Joshua didn't call back but left the room as I kept peering at my feet. When I heard their gentle laughter, my eyes closed on instinct, and I downed the wine in one go.
Don't let me go.
...
Two days later and nothing had changed. I was going to work while Joshua stayed at home with Tulia beside him. They hadn't left each other's side, which my sister believed was because Tulia could relate to his grief because of her brother's PTSD.
I thought it was a load of bollocks. I didn't know what was going on and to be honest with you, I couldn't find the energy within me to find out. As long as I had wine to keep me company, then I was a-okay.
The funeral was going ahead next Friday, but I hadn't let my thoughts dwell on that one just yet. Funerals were horrid things. I would worry about it when the time got here. Although, I let my mind go there for a while this morning as I searched through my messy wardrobe for the prettiest black dress I owned. Megan bought it for me last year, so it seemed right to wear it for her then.
The flat was empty with Joshua out visiting his friends, probably with Saint Tulia tagging along, holding his hand... sleeping in his bed. Well, maybe not the last bit as I knew she left the flat before his bedroom door shut for the night, but it didn't stop me worrying that she was sleeping in there, anyway.
What hurt the most was that I heard him crying out in the night and couldn't go to him. Not at the risk of bumping into something I didn't want to see. I had already finished one bottle of wine and was halfway through another when the early evening news came onto the telly.
It wasn't healthy to channel my grief with alcohol; I knew that, but in that very moment it was working. Hearing my phone buzz for the seventh time tonight I staggered into the hallway finding it on the floor next to my forgotten shoes and handbag.
I left it where it was and went in hunt for my wine bottle. As I walked back into the kitchen, my eyes caught sight of the scribble on the memo board and it stabbed directly into my heart when I saw Megan had left me a message.
Hope you don't feel too hungover! I'm going to bed now and won't see you until the end of my shift! See you tonight! Love ya! <3
She meant for me to see it when I got back from Hanna's hen party. We'd arranged a movie night in to discuss the details of my big night out. Megan said she'd bring in Chinese takeout, and we would cure our tiredness with milky tea.
A scream tore from my mouth with no warning as I squeezed the rim of the wineglass in my fingers and felt it shatter in my hand. I didn't flinch when the shards cut into my skin or when the blood seeped out of the cuts. I just stood there numb, watching the way the words curved and the excessive use of an exclamation point. I kept my eyes on the board, letting it haunt me.
The alcohol was taking effect now as I moved towards the fridge, finding a bottle of unopened vodka at the back near the condiments. Not wasting time with glasses, I unscrewed the cap and took a large gulp. The sting of the vodka hit the back of my throat, but I didn't care. At least, I felt something. I tried to focus my eyes on the bottle, seeing a bloodied hand print that was obviously my own.
One more swig.
The Stereo remote was in my hand, and I was turning the music up and throwing my body in all directions to songs that reminded me of better times. The words were out of my mouth in a strange order as I made my own lyrics up. I didn't care who heard. Let them.
One more swig.
My head fell forward as I sobbed my heart out, wishing I had one more chance to tell Megan how much I valued her friendship. How she was the coolest girl I knew, and that I loved her like a sister. Not only had I lost her, but I also got an awful feeling I was losing her brother too.
One more swig.
My foot tipped to the side when I stumbled off balance and reached out blindly to find my hand landing on the kitchen cupboard. My clumsiness brought down the bottles, saucepan I had left there containing tomato soup and other things with a bang.
My head hit the corner of the table, but the pain never came. In an almost dreamlike state, I laid on the ground with the music blasting, my hand and arm covered in blood and tomato soup pooling at my legs.
What a mess.
...
The music stopped, and my bleary eyes sprung open.
"Shit!"
I was still drunk. The room was spinning in a circle with the stinging pain in my hand growing worse as I tried to move my fingers. A pair of denim-clad knees appeared near my face, and then a tender hand smoothed across the side of my head. My eyes were cloudy as I brought them up to see Matt's anguished face.
"Oh, baby," he whispered, moving his arm underneath my shoulder to encourage me up. "Let's get you up."
"Matt—?" I felt so devastated.
"Shh, I know," he replied, lifting me into his arms with ease, moving away from me once he kissed the side of my head. "Jeez, baby, you smell like a brewery. How much have you drunk?" There was some displeasure within his care.
Yeah, I lost count.
He carried me through to the bathroom and set me bottom first in the shower, letting me roll my shoulders down as I rested my back against the tiled wall. I stayed silent as he undressed me, paying extra attention to my arm when removing my top. I kept my eyes closed when he turned on the faucet so the warm water could trickle over my now naked body and hissed when it burnt my scalp.
There was nothing sexual about this. Even in my obliterated state, I could sense his worry for me. I don't think he even looked at my boobs, too occupied with my bleeding hand.
"How much have you had to drink?" he repeated himself, leaning into the cubicle to check my head when he noticed me touching it.
"Lost count," I slurred. "More than I should."
Matt's fingers delved into my hair a little softer when I pulled away from his touch, easing them over my shoulders to make sure I was extra clean by using some soap. "You know better than to do this. It's not the answer."
"Hurts me here," I whispered, holding my hand over my heart.
His voice softened when a sob escaped his mouth too. "It's bound to hurt, baby. But getting yourself drunk like this will not help. Do you know how worried everyone is about you? Hanna called me at least ten times asking if I could get to you before they could because you told her not to come here. That you wanted to be alone."
I wanted to be strong. "I'm an idiot."
The water shut off, a thick towel appearing around my shoulders. "You're far from an idiot. Can you stand or do you need me to carry you?"
"I'll try to stand."
Matt kept hold of my hand and helped me to get up off the shower floor. When my body swayed, he held me still and wrapped me back in the towel, not giving me the chance to walk before picking me up. I rested my head on his shoulder while he moved toward my bedroom, kicked the door open and placed me on the mattress. Once he dressed me in my nightshirt, he sat at the edge of the bed with a pair of tweezers.
"It might sting a bit when I pull the glass out."
I didn't say a word while he picked the shards out of my skin, wiped antiseptic all over my palm, and stuck the biggest plaster over it to help keep the wound clean. He put the used tissue in the bit-bin near my side dresser, disappearing for a minute before appearing with a glass of water and some pain relief.
"I'm going to tidy the flat while you get some rest, okay?" He whispered, watching me swallow the tablets, then put the half empty glass on the nightstand.
I shook my head, regretting it instantly when a bout of nausea hit me. "You don't have to do that."
"I know I don't have to, but I want to," he replied.
My lips tipped up as I tried my best to smile. "You're my best friend, Matty. Love you."
I needed to tell the people closest to me how much I valued them more often. I would make it a regular thing. They would be sick of me by the end. I would show them too much affection.
He leant down to place a warm kiss on my forehead, letting his lips linger there. "I love you, too."
I reached out for his hand when he moved away. "Will you stay the night? I'm so lonely."
It hurt him. He visibly swallowed hard as his eyes glossed over. I tried not to let his sadness set me off again by turning my face into the pillow.
"That was my plan all along. You'll never be lonely with me around," he said, clearing his throat.
I needed to offload my thoughts onto someone and seeing as Matt was here. I chose him. "The post-mortem report came back and said she'd suffered from a blood clot in her heart. It moved to the brain. Apparently, she wouldn't have known anything about it."
Matt sucked in a big breath of air, resting his knee on the bed so he could be close to me. Like he knew I needed his support more than ever in that moment. "I promise you she wouldn't have felt a thing. It would have been like falling to sleep."
I shuddered. "And never waking up."
He nodded.
"I just didn't expect my twenty-three-year-old friend to die. It doesn't feel right."
He stroked my arm. "It's so fucking unfair."
My bottom lip trembled, and I curled into a ball, wanting the tension in my chest to loosen. Wishing Joshua was here with me. Didn't he know I was suffering too? "I know, but that still doesn't mean it hurts the people left behind any less."
"You're right, it doesn't," he said, squeezing my shoulder. "Try to get some shuteye. Or the hangover you're going to wake up to will feel ten times worse."
Matt left me alone in the room that night and I moved to lie on my back with my eyes glued to the ceiling, distracting my waiting dreams with listening to him pottering around the flat. It wasn't long later that he came back in to grab a pillow and blanket, taking himself into the living room where he slept on the sofa.