The fight with Ang before the concert.
The fight with Andrew after.
Drinking just enough to be angry at the world that things weren’t going my way — that my best friend wouldn’t listen to me about drugs, that he’d hurt the woman I loved, and that the woman I loved was choosing drugs over me.
The groupie was pretty.
And it was easy.
So easy to wonder what life would be like if I just shut off, sent Ang away, sent Andrew away, got them help while I could figure out how to save the rest of the band, salvage what was left.
I was fine.
They were the problem.
So. Much. Anger.
I choked back a sob and stood on wobbly feet, my eyes zeroing in on Zane and his haunting words.
Anger is the symptom.
I’d been devastated.
Because I’d had such a high opinion of myself — that when Ang still chose drugs — my pride couldn’t take the hit.
God.
I’d slept with her.
I remembered her tears that night.
Asking me to slow down.
Begging me to talk to her about the future.
Asking when she’d see me again since I’d be gone for weeks.
And my heart cracking in my chest as I slept with her one last time before I sent her to rehab — before I got her the help she needed.
Before I sent her out of my life and fought for us the only way I knew how.
Alone.
“Hey, you okay?” Zane asked.
“No,” I whispered. “I’m not okay.”
He didn’t seem to know what to do with that.
I walked.
And then I ran like hell.
After both of my best friends.
Ang.
And Andrew.
ANDREW WAS A runner.
I could tell by his stride, the easy way he inhaled through his nose, out his mouth. While I thought I was going to pass out from shortness of breath.
“Andrew!” I yelled.
The ocean swallowed my voice.
Finally, he stopped and turned.
I kept running; he was a good hundred feet in front of me.
And when I finally caught up, I couldn’t catch my breath, my tears were mixed with sand by then, and my lungs burned.
“I’m disappointed.” He rasped, “You still don’t exercise. Isn’t that part of the steps in rehab? Find a healthy…” He made mock quotes. “Outlet.”
“I bite,” I sucked in a gulp of air, “My fingernails and,” I put my hands on my knees and tried breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth. “I color.”
“Color.” he repeated, “With crayons? Markers? Colored pencils? Watercolors—”
“Crayons.” I blurted then collapsed onto the sand.
Slowly, he lowered his massive body next to mine.
We were a few feet apart.
Both of us staring at the ocean.
“You sent me away,” I finally said.
He swore. “Because it was easy to hate you.” A shrug. “I couldn’t get ahold of Will he froze me out of his life, and you, you were the catalyst. Well, technically we were the catalyst, but you were the one thing that took him from me forever.”
I stared down at the sand. “But we were friends, you and I, we were… close.”
“Wow, I hate to break it to you, but the only reason we started becoming friendly was because I gave you drugs.”
I flinched.
“What? Did I offend you?” He snorted. “Don’t lie to me and say it was for any other reason than I had contacts and you didn’t…”
“But—” I licked my dry lips. “After Will’s song hit it big during the solo break, you and I, we became friends.”
He was quiet.
“We had our own PlayStation console.”
More silence.
“I always won.”
“Bullshit.” He finally looked at me. “You never won, and you hated playing me because I was the only one who could beat you.”
“Is… that your outlet now?” I asked quietly.
“Tattoos.” He looked away, “I like pain.”
“Sadist tendencies, nice.”
“I lift heavy things. Get tattoos, and do extreme skydiving, all right? And if someone told me it hurt like hell to get a dick piercing I’d probably do that too, because it feels good to—” He clamped his lips shut.
“—to feel.” I answered for him.
He exhaled.
“Talk to him,” I urged. “Don’t yell. Just talk.”
“Talking isn’t going to fix this.”
“Don’t.” I put my hand on his arm.
He flinched, then locked his icy blue stare onto me.
“Don’t let what happened destroy you like I let it destroy me. Will made bad choices, so did we. Nobody’s blameless.”
He said nothing.
“It’s the past.” I tried again. “Don’t let it ruin your future.”
I learned quickly that Andrew had changed. Conversations with him used to be easy, full of laughter, now he was just… serious and maybe a bit dead inside.
“One more thing,” I said, standing.
“What? You want a kidney?” he scowled.
“Kidneys are healthy.” I smiled sadly at him. “But I’m kind of short on asking for forgiveness, it actually hurts to ask for it especially when you live your life thinking you’re the one in the right…” I held out my hand. “Will you forgive me? For putting you in an impossible situation? For coming between you and your best friend, however unintentional it was.”
He stared at my hand.
I held it out even though he didn’t as much as breathe in my direction.
And then I heard Will’s voice. “I’d take that if I were you. She doesn’t offer handshakes to just anyone.”
I was so thankful to hear him, to feel him, that my knees almost buckled. History wouldn’t repeat itself.
Because I wasn’t going to let it.
THE ANDREW I knew was gone.
His eyes were cold.
Lifeless.
He finally slapped Ang’s hand like a high five rather than a shake and continued to glare at me.
“I was scared,” I finally said. “Jealous and scared.”
Surprise flickered across his face.
“I’d sent her into your arms knowing you’d take care of her while I was gone while hating the bad influence you were on each other. You had this connection I didn’t understand, this… thing that gripped both of you like a vise. I didn’t get it, I hated it, hated you for bringing her into it almost as much as I hated that I couldn’t stop it.” All things I’d told Ang without reservation. “And I’d been gone so much, it made sense, she chose drugs over me, why not eventually choose my best friend? The one who was there when I wasn’t?”
Andrew looked away.
Ang reached for my hand and squeezed.
“The thing is…” I dug my heels into the sand and looked out at the horizon. “You’re right, I blamed everyone but me. Hated everyone for my own damn brokenness not realizing that I helped create it. I played victim — when I was the culprit.”
Andrew riveted his gaze on our joined hands, then quickly averted his eyes back to the ocean.
This wasn’t going to end with handshakes, high fives, and tears, at least not on his end.
It wasn’t the ending you hold your breath for on TV or when you read books — it was life.
And when life kicks you in the ass.
Sometimes words can’t fix it.
Sometimes silence is your only option so you don’t ruin it further with your words.
Andrew finally stood and whispered under his breath so low I almost didn’t hear it. “Good talk.”