It had been raining all day. Water poured off the broken gutters on the side of my house, and even though I was under the porch, droplets still plopped onto to my arms and head. Ella stood in front of me, rocking back and forth on her heels. She wore no makeup, her face pale and her eyes tired. She must have noticed the distain on my face, because she huffed out a breath and looked down. Thunder rumbled the porch.
"I promise I'm just here to give you your bag." She gestured down to my tatty suitcase. "And to get Brooklyn's car."
Over her shoulder, Ricky waited in Ella's white coup. He kept his head down.
"Thank you," I muttered, dropping the keys in Ella's hand. I was about to go back inside when Ella stopped me.
"Wait." She put her hand on my arm. I turned to face her, crossing my arms over my chest. I didn't know if I should feel angry or sad or some combination of both, but I just knew I felt lost.
"I just want to say how sorry I am about everything," she said softly, jamming her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. "I really should have told you. I know you're angry, and I'll take full responsibility for it. You should have never had to see what happened the other night." She paused and let out a sharp exhale. "I don't want you to think that he didn't love you. He did. He does."
I wanted to not care. I wanted to just rip Brooklyn out of my system, hard and fast like a band-aid. But I couldn't help myself. I had to ask.
"Where is he?"
Ella shook her head. "I can't tell you. He didn't want me to. But..." she produced an envelope from the pocket of her sweatshirt. "He wanted me to give you this."
I quickly took the envelope from her, trying to hide my trembling hands.
"I'll let you go. Goodbye." Ella turned and walked back to her car, handing the keys to the Jeep to Ricky. I stood on my porch and watched them drive away, realizing that was probably the last time I'd ever see them.
I darted back up to my room and shut the door behind me, clutching the envelope to my chest. Without even letting myself have second thoughts, I ripped it open, took a deep breath, and read it.
Nat -
I don't even know where to begin, but I'll start with I'm sorry, even though I know I won't be able to say it enough. I'm sorry for lying to you, and for putting you in a situation you never should have been in. I'm sorry for letting you down. I'm sorry for not telling you how I felt about you when I should have. I'm sorry for so many things but I don't have the space to write them all. Most importantly, I'm sorry that I couldn't be everything you deserve, because you deserve the world. You deserve the world and the moon and the stars and everything in between. You were the peace that I craved in my fucked up life, and like a true addict, I became completely addicted to you and the way you made me feel. You made me feel invincible. But it was selfish of me to hold onto you when I knew I was doing all the wrong things. The time I spent with you will never have been enough for me, but you're enough. You're more than enough. You're everything.
Love, Brooklyn
I didn't know how long I sat on the floor of my bedroom, running my fingers over the black ink of Brooklyn's scratchy handwriting. I grabbed my phone, my thumb hovering over my favorites list in my contacts for a few moments before shakily hitting Brooklyn's number. It only rang once before the chirpy automated message came through.
"I'm sorry, this number has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please try-"
I hung up the phone and threw it onto my bed. My head pounded from the dizzying array of emotions that suffocated me. Tears that had been begging to come out spilled down my cheeks, staining my pillow. My head ached and throbbed as hysterics overtook me. I cried until I had no more tears left. Eventually I stopped, and my chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. I laid in my bed quietly for what felt like hours, until the darkness of the night crept through my bedroom window. It was still raining.
I blotted my face with the sleeves of my shirt before turning back to face my room. Shoes had piled up in the corner by my dresser, and various articles of clothes strewn across the floor had seemed to multiply, turning small piles into mountains. The Chair was barely visible underneath another pile of clothes. I shakily got up from bed and poked at a stray shirt with my foot. When I bent down to pick it up, my chest tightened and more tears threatened to well up in my throat. The bright blue Nike football t-shirt Brooklyn had given me still smelled like him.
I gingerly folded it and set it down on my bed, swallowing down the lump that had formed in my throat. I picked up another shirt that sat at my feet, folding it the same way and setting it down in a new pile.
Soon enough I began shuffling along the floor of my room, picking through piles of shirts and adding them to the folded pile on my bed. Eventually I did the same for my sweaters, grabbing bunches of hangers and placing them back in my closet. I stacked my shoes in pairs against the wall by my dresser, finding sandals I thought I had misplaced at the beach and a pair of chunky heels Nikki had been looking for weeks ago.
A pile of Brooklyn's clothes had its own place on my bed, from a bright orange Clemson University hoodie he had given her after a night on the beach to an old Montgomery Prep Football long sleeve shirt that had thumbholes cut out at the ends of the sleeves. I scowled at the pile before shoving it on the top shelf of my closet.
"Oh my god, I can actually see your floor."
I whipped around to see Nikki standing in the doorway. She opted for a grey beanie to cover her head instead of a colorful wig, matching the dull tone of the whole night.
"How long have you been standing there?" I snapped.
Nikki shrugged. "Long enough."
She made her way over to my bed and sat on the edge, patting the space beside her and beckoning me to join her.
I blew a piece of hair out of my face, and made my way to my sister. The bed squeaked as I sat down. I leaned on my knees and rubbed my face with my hands. "It's amazing how someone can do something awful, and still make you feel like you're the one who did something awful."
Nikki chewed on her bottom lip before she spoke. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about what happened?"
"No. I don't," I replied quickly.
"You don't have to then." Nikki pulled at the sweater that hung loosely on her thin frame. "You can talk to me when you're ready. But I can I say something?"
I groaned and kept my face in my hands. "Well, even if I say no, you're going to anyway. So go ahead I guess."
"I'm sorry about the way I've acted the past few weeks." Nikki took a deep breath before continuing. "I overstepped. A lot. I shouldn't have said those things to Brooklyn, and I shouldn't have tried to manipulate you or the way you felt. Part of me just wanted to protect you, but I also realized that a part of me was just jealous."
I lifted my face from my hands, my cheeks still hot and sore from rubbing at them. Unshed tears glistened in the corners of my eyes. "What? You were jealous of me?"
"Yeah," Nikki said with a shrug. "I was. Not only that you had somebody to love, but that somebody loved you. Because for all the people I've kissed and dated and done whatever with, I never found that with anyone. But he made you so happy Nat, and as fucked up as Brooklyn was, he loved you. He really did."
I shook my head, letting a stray tear run down my face. "I know. That's the worst part. All the love in the world still couldn't have saved him."
"Maybe it's finally time you started thinking about saving yourself." Nikki sighed and gave me one last hug before leaving my room.
The only thing left on my bed was my laptop, and I opened it to a blank Google doc. Writing had always been what I turned to when I was upset, anxious, or stressed, and in what's felt like the most stressful few months of my life, I've shut it out instead of letting it help me. I watched the cursor blink for a few moments, then typed out A Young Woman's Guide to Love and Other Drugs.
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