Dearest Niall,
I am angry with you. God, I am beyond angry with you for leaving us when we needed you the most. Because that is what family members do – keep each other’s back. So I am angry at you. But to be honest, when you left, it gave me something to think about as well. The basic questions when someone you love leaves you: Was I not enough? Did I not understand him? How did he feel when he left me? Hopeless? Sorry? Happy? Free? What could I have done to make him stay?
The last one kept me thinking. I thought about that, and you, and everything else. And at last, after a month when we all realized that you were gone and not coming back, I got my answer. I could’ve done a lot of things to make you stay. And I didn’t do any of them.
You were always different, Niall. And I know this may sound a very old, battered, and traditional line to say to your brother (in-law?), but you were very, very special. Believe me. I should’ve tried more to make mum and Theo listen to you. And because I hadn’t done my part, how could I be so selfish and hope that you would even understand yours?
I think, Niall, that we’re allowed to make mistakes sometimes. No matter how much people expect from us, how complete we think we are. I believe sometimes you should be able to jump in the water and think, “Oh, shoot, it’s deep, it is way deeper than I imagined it would be.” We are human, right? We are allowed to make mistakes. You did wrong, but I don’t blame you anymore. You sent us letters at last, didn’t you? You admitted your fault. And now I only miss you.
So come and see us as soon as you can now. I swear little Theo is so much like you. Mum is still a little cross, but I believe she wants to see you just as us. No matter what happens, we’re your family. We’ll always be yours.
Love,
Addie.
“She’s right, you know?” Niall said one day at kitchen while we were kneading dough.
“What?” I asked.
He blinked. “What, what? Weren’t you listening?”
I shrugged.
He sighed, rolling his eyes – annoyed as well as exasperated. “Addie. I was talking about Addie.”
“Oh,” I said disinterestedly.
“She’s right, though,” Niall kept on talking... as if he had to talk more than he normally would to make up for the fact that I was not. “You have the rights to make mistakes, and you should have someone who’d accept you anyhow… your safe haven. What do you say, Harry?”
I didn’t answer. He kept on talking anyway.
“Jane shouldn’t lock herself up. For God’s sake, she’s seventeen. She shouldn’t think everything that goes wrong is her fault. She cannot punish herself for it. She should not. It’s been ten days.”
I stopped kneading and turned at him. “Her sister’s dead, Niall.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?”
“If you do, you’re not certainly acting like that, are you?”
“She’s been locked in that tiny room for ten days, Harry,” he said firmly, as if I had not known that. “She’s not talking to anyone. How could she heal if she doesn’t let the wound… set?”
“Priceless,” I said sarcastically. “I’ve to hear you make poetry now.”
He rolled his eyes, angry. “Don’t be obnoxious. How could she be well if she doesn’t come out in the world?”
“Well, maybe it’s hard to come out for her because it would remind her that her sister’s not in this world to live anymore!”
“Don’t scream, Harry,” he said.
“I’m not screaming!” I banged the dishes over the table. They fell on the floor with clattering noises. I could feel the staring of the other two lads who were in the room. Those days, I could feel everyone staring at me. And following me. I am paranoid, I’d told myself, for no reason.
“I’m angry,” I said. “And helpless. And pathetic… I’m nothing.” I closed my eyes, but I still saw everything. Everyone’s attempt to go back to life, and everyone saying that this happened every time. I saw Niall approaching me again, with that helpful, earnest look in his eyes.
“Harry,” Niall started, but I shook my head.
“It’s been ten days since she died and we’re already back to what we did. I’m making fucking breads. I’m doing these extra shifts but I don’t know how to… how to p-pass that empty space. I… Lilly’s past. Lilly was. She used to exist. And I… I’m making breads.”
And at last Niall said one true thing. He took a deep breath through his nose and the words seemed to come out with his rugged exhale: “I don’t know what to say that’s true and not hurtful.”
“That’s honest.”
“I just know that everyone expects you to live. When my Gammie died, Theo was at work. He couldn’t come home for two days. And everyone just accepted. I don’t know why, but this one rule that every single person abides that… you’ve got to live. Or at least survive, if you’re not in the mood.”
I opened my eyes and held his gaze. He was chewing on his bottom lip, looking helpless, slightly abashed.
“Jane does that,” I said suddenly.
He stopped chewing on his bottom lip. “What?”
I pointed my index finger vaguely at his lips. “She… chews on her bottom lip.”
“Ew.”
I sighed. “She used to, anyway.”
“She still does. Maybe.”
I looked away. My hand unintentionally went up to my chest and I felt the cool silver of the cross necklace she gave me. My fingers trailed over the cross. I sighed.
“You can’t give up on her,” I heard Niall say. “You do know that, don’t you?”
I closed my eyes, nodding in answer.
“She needs you.”
I nodded.
“And you need her.”
I nodded again.
“It’s not that I’m saying you aren’t independent or anything… but it happens to even the best people.” He stopped for a moment. “It’s actually pretty scary.”
I nodded, not saying anything. I agreed with him. Love is pretty scary sometimes. You can’t have any part of it that doesn’t have a little poison in fair portion.
“I need a smoke,” I told Niall, and got out before he could reply.
The afternoon light was blunt, having a bit non-existent feel to it. Like the proverbial heaven’s light, simultaneously being and not being there. I felt the crisp air creeping behind my neck as I headed out. I need a smoke and a walk… and I have to go to Jane for no particular reason. God, am I—
I halted when I saw Louis. He was leaning against a wall, a half-blown cigarette in his hand. Apparently, he did not notice me. His eyes were closed, and though his sight did not repulse me, it certainly did annoy me a bit. I thought of walking to him and questioning him about the thing that kept probing in my head from time to time. And for better or worse, I did what I thought.
He still had his eyes closed when I reached him, oblivious about everything. To make him notice, I coughed. He blinked, the cigarette between his index and middle finger frisked only a little.
“Harry,” he said, trying to smile.
“Louis.” I nodded.
“How are things?” he asked, turning away and taking a small drag from the cigarette.
“Fine,” I answered. “How ‘bout you?”
“Good,” he said. “Good. Fine.”
“Can I have one?” I asked. He seemed almost lost for a moment, and then smiled.
“Sure,” he mumbled, fishing inside his pocket and bringing out a new one. It took me a second to light it, and then I closed my eyes, taking a long, stressful drag. God, I needed that.
“Sorry to, uh, hear about the kid,” I heard Louis saying awkwardly. I realized I had my eyes closed. I blinked, confused.
“The kid?” Louis said again, even more awkward. “I was… uh, didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Oh,” I breathed, nodding.
“I’m just sorry she died so young.”
“Yeah,” I said briskly. “So am I.”
“It’s sort of pathetic that kids like her don’t get enough years sometimes. And sometimes I see old, brazen perverts who get much more than they deserve.”
“Yeah,” I said, breathing out the word. “It’s pretty pathetic.”
He mumbled something in return, but I didn’t hear that. I’d closed my eyes till then, leaning against the same wall as him. The autumn air brushed my skin, and instead of feeling calmer as I thought I would, I felt even more anxious. As if someone was stealing my breath, as if someone was watching me without my knowledge. I started talking to ignore that.
“So how long have you been in the city?” I asked him.
He was looking elsewhere as he answered, “Too long… Anywhere I am, it’s too long.”
“Is that supposed to be your answer?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“God, what is it with everyone and poetry today?!”
He smirked. “Who else loves poetry?”
I huffed annoyedly. “How long have you been in the city in numbers?”
“Who else loves poetry, Harry?”
“I just said that without thinking.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Does Jane love poetry?”
“Why are you being such a sniveling little shit?”
“Woah.” He chuckled. “I just asked who loves poetry.”
I shook my head. “You just want to know everything about everyone.”
“Is that wrong?”
“Yes.” I looked at him. “Very.”
“Maybe I like erroneous things,” he said.
“Maybe you’re just a sniveling little shit,” I replied.
He smirked even more. “Good to know.”
“And you’re a pathetic liar,” I said, surprising myself. I was never so spiteful. I remembered what Louis told me that day: I knew you had it in you. You just hide it so well. What did he mean? Did he mean that angsty, helpless angriness that I tried so hard to keep lock inside of me? Did he mean that ever glowing anxiety that made me so vulnerable that I wished I’d been someone else and not myself? Was I that easy to read?
I screwed my eyes shut. It was all too much. I shouldn’t guess myself for something he said. It was stupid. I tried to remember what Jane once told me in this matter. You mustn’t press yourself. You’ve to be cool and tough if anyone else questions you.
But wasn’t Jane doing the exact opposite? I’ll come around for you, she’d said. Promised. And then she disappeared like thin air. I didn’t get one glimpse at her for ten days. If she knew that I staggered around her doorstep every morning and evening and night, she did not acknowledge it.
“How so?” Louis asked.
I blinked, snapping back from my daze. “What?”
He wasn’t smirking anymore, I saw as I looked at him again. In fact, for the first time since I knew him, he looked serious. He was frowning at me, his clear blue eyes immobile.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“How come you think I’m a pathetic liar?”
I rolled my eyes. “You lie about a lot of things.”
“How come you think I’m pathetic?”
“All liars are pathetic.”
He squinted. “You think you’re just oh so moralist, don’t you? All liars are pathetic. Fuck. People can lie for a lot of reasons and not half of them are pathetic, Harry. Life outside your little home should teach you that.”
That was true. I shut up as I realized I was being bratty for naught. I was wrong about a lot of things those days.
Unfortunately, Louis kept talking. “People do lie for a lot of reasons. And I can’t expect for you to understand mine when I can’t even fathom yours.”
“I don’t lie,” I said.
“You do.”
“Why do you lie?”
“Why do you think I’ll tell you?” he scoffed. “You’re not even my friend.”
“No one is your friend,” I said.
He smiled, startling me. That was first time I saw him smile. It didn’t even cross my mind that he could ever smile. He kept his smile as he answered, “Right.”
“I don’t lie,” I said, because I had to make that clear.
“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” he said neutrally.
I waited for a moment, eyeing him. He acted oblivious as he dropped the burnt cigarette from between his fingers. “You didn’t see Jane before the day she came here, did you?” I asked finally.
“No,” he answered at once.
“Then why did you lie?”
“I had my reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“Look,” he spat impatiently. “I already apologized. And I am not even bothering you or Jane anymore. What else do you want?”
“You just wanted to make a brawl out of me that day, didn’t you?”
“What?” he said incredulously.
“Yeah, that’s you started talking about Jane. You wanted me to hit you. You wanted to see that I might have a dark side I hated… You wanted to make me feel small.”
He pursed his lips. “Harry,” he said softly, “I think you’re grieving a little too much.”
“I’m right, am I not?”
He clenched his jaw (In what? I thought. Sympathy? Vexation?) “Maybe you are.”
“Why do you do it?”
“You wouldn’t believe if I told you.”
“Because you’re a pathological liar?”
“Fuck off.”
“Louis,” I said quietly, but firmly, “something has been bothering me for about three months now. Alright? I feel like I’m drowning in this huge pile of unknown suspicions. And it’s even worse now that Jane’s not here. I feel like I’m afraid all the time. So this could’ve been only something you liked to joke about – making remarks of Jane in front of me – but please, I need to know what you meant so that I can say, ‘Yes, that’s nothing’ and move on. Please, Louis. Could you help me this one time?”
Louis stayed quiet for a moment. He wasn’t looking at me, but I kept feeling that someone else was. That feeling I could not shake off. Maybe Louis thought it was a dumb joke and that was all, I said to myself. Maybe he really is one sniveling shit.
And then he answered. “I’m writing a book,” he said, still not looking at me, “and you seem like an interesting character for that. So I followed you and mocked you a little to bring out some more qualities… I thought – I figured that it would help me to write well. That’s all.”
“Oh.” I felt dumb, suddenly; immature even, because I still wasn’t sure if he lied to me or not.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” Louis mumbled. “I just didn’t know it would affect you this much.”
“Yeah...”
“How is Jane?”
“She isn’t with me.”
“It is a privilege to love her, though.” He smiled again. “Isn’t it?”
I shrugged, flushing for some reason. “Yeah, it is. She is the best person I know. I just... I just wish I could let her know... And then maybe she’d let me console her.”
“That’s not the way it works,” he said.
“And do I know it.”
“Hey – don’t find me nosy again, but did you say three months?” He asked. Confused, I blinked at him and he repeated, “Did you say that you kept feeling odd since the last three months?”
“Yeah.” I nodded distractedly, already skipping off the conversation because my thoughts had started to knot. “I’m leaving,” I mumbled, not listening.
I didn’t know if I wanted to go back inside, or at the street. I didn’t know why I was thinking about running. Louis was still talking, but I didn’t listen in. But just before I left, I heard him say in a voice that was both confused and worried: “Hey, wasn’t that the time around you met Jane?”
The first answer that came to my mind was also the first word that came out of my mouth.
Yes.
Does that mean anything?
No. Probably not.
Are you sure?
No.
It’s the doubt that’s worse.
Yes.
__
Days went by tardily, like watching an hourglass as it counted time – slow, slow, almost numbing. Life became a routine where I dreaded the work I was doing and dreaded which course came after. I hadn’t seen Jane for fifteen days. I went to her room every time I had chance now, just to know if she was there. Helen shoved me out before I could even try to say something. She didn’t open her door even at night, and for some reason, no one ever bothered her. I was anxious. But Helen assured me it was because she was coping. She was coping in her own way.
How? I’d asked her.
Helen replied that she didn’t know.
The silence from her was the loudest thought in my mind. Jane and some other loose ends. How was it possible that I began to feel the breathy anxiousness since I saw her? Was this a side effect of falling in love? Or was it only with her? Was there really any connection? Or was I going mad anyway?
I didn’t know what happened around me. I was only in my own mind and trying to understand hers. Niall left me alone. Louis left alone. Hubert Henley definitely left me alone. I sometimes thought if I was being talked about when I wasn’t at a place. I once saw Brandon and Devon talking frivolously, but just as I entered the room, they dropped quiet. Almost dramatically.
I knew they were sorry for me. Everyone was sorry for me. Lilly’s death seemed to stop everything. Even the moon appeared dimmer, if that made sense. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. That was my routine, and it was after exactly seventeen days that it had a change.
I was lying on my bed, ignorant and thinking about Jane and Lilly when Niall burst into our room with a thudding noise. I merely turned at him. He was sweating even in that chilled weather, his cheeks red and puffed. He was nervous.
“What?” I asked him.
“Harry.” He gulped.
“Yes?”
“There’s been another murder tonight. I thought you’d want to know.”