Right Where You Left Me

poured my heart and poured the whiskey

I dangle my legs over the dock and blow out a puff of smoke.

The lake has frozen over, but I'm not stupid enough to try and skate on it. It'll crack if I so much as touch it. Everyone knows the ice is paper thin.

Everyone, it seems like, except the tourists on the other side of the bay who are tentatively stepping off their cottage dock and onto the lake. I shake my head. Sometimes humanity's stupidity appalls me.

I pick up a stone and chuck it at the ice. It easily brakes and falls to the bottom, making a noticeable cracking and splashing noise. The tourists notice the stone, anxiously titter amongst themselves, and quickly get off the ice.

I grin and stand up, dusting off my jeans and tucking my earbuds into my ears. I click on the folklore album. the 1 begins to play.

I tuck my hands into my jacket pocket and wince against the cold as I begin walking. I don't know where I'm headed. It's a chilly Saturday evening, the snow is gently falling, and I am drowning in regret. Nate is at home. This means I am not.

I'm doing good I'm on some new shit
Been saying yes instead of no

I take a deep breath and turn the corner, walking down the sidewalk. My mind travels to New Years Eve. Almost a week ago. The kiss didn't erase the hurtful things I said, or the hurtful things he's done. The kiss only further complicates these things.

I drag a hand along my face, my fingers lingering on my lips. The same lips that Nate kissed. I need to get my shit together and apologize. I know that. But today, I just want to drown away my sorrows in bottles of alcohol. I want to get blackout drunk and pass out on the sidewalk and not worry about the consequences, even though the likelihood of me getting kidnapped is very high.

I run the rest of the way home. I'm in my pajamas; sweatpants and a tank top and a thick, brown corduroy jacket I pulled on. My jacket flies behind me as I race down the middle of the road. I skid to a stop in front of my house as the sun begins to set in the sky. I slam the door open and head to the medicine cabinet, where Nancy keeps her alcohol 'hidden' behind the bottles of pills we all take to wash away the pain. I grab a bottle of cheap red wine and turn around.

Nate is leaning his shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, a single brow raised expectantly.

I fumble with the bottle before hiding it under my jacket. I casually lean against the counter, hitting my head against the cabinet door in the process. I wince in pain and clear my throat, nodding my head in his direction. "Hey," I say.

"What are you doing, Adya?" he asks. Laughter laces his tone. He's humouring me; we both know he saw the bottle.

I take a step towards the exit. "I thought we weren't speaking to each other."

He pushes himself off the wall, scratching his jaw. "Yeah, well, I was trying to be mad at you." The corner of his mouth curls up a bit, but the amusement in his eyes is dark. "And then I kissed you, so obviously I suck at keeping grudges."

I frown. "So are you mad at me?"

"A little," he admits. "But I could never be furious with you, Adya." There is a softness in his eyes that I haven't seen in Nate in a long time.

I press my lips together. "I don't know if that's true."

He tilts his head back. "What are your plans for tonight, Ahmed?"

I hold up the bottle of wine with a guilty grin. "Getting drunk."

He furrows his brows and takes a step forward. "I don't know if that's a good idea-"