Right Where You Left Me

this is me trying

At school, I am cranky, hungover, and have a pounding headache. When I woke up, Nate wasn't in my bed. I threw up and cried in the shower and then headed to school, an hour late for first period.

By lunchtime I'm feeling a little better. I head over to Jagged Edge on my break and see Kate and Alex sitting at a booth. I slide in across from them and take a sip of my Gatorade.

"Hey," I smile.

I am met with a resounding silence.

Kate sends me a little glare and Alex avoids my eyes, rubbing her arms.

My smile fades.

"What's wrong?" I ask, looking between the two of them.

"Hmm?" Kate says. "Nothing. Except for the fact that your friend over here went through some of the most traumatic shit she's ever been through, and you didn't even fucking check in on her."

My eyes flick to Alex.

"It's been a week, Adya," she says quietly. "You didn't reach out once."

"Fuck," I curse, running a hand through my hair. She's right. Her dad came and instead of checking on her, I bailed Nate out of jail and went back to drowning my problems in alcohol. "About that," I awkwardly chuckle. "I've kind of been drunk for the last week. I'm really sorry."

"A 'sorry' isn't gonna cut it, Adya," Kate spits. "You're a bad friend. And you're doing a really shitty job of making up for it."

"Shit," I say. It feels like the walls are closing in on me. I clench my hands into fists and screw my eyes shut as my chest heaves. There's not enough air for my lungs. There aren't enough words to explain how sorry I am. I have too many apologies to make and I've fucked everything up again. A tear runs down my cheek and I hastily wipe it away.

Kate scoffs. "What, are you making yourself the fucking victim? That's pathetic, Adya."

"I know," I say. "I'm not the victim. I'm just struggling, okay?" I turn to Alex. "I'm really sorry I wasn't there for you. I was a horrible friend. I've been through the same shit you have, though. So if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here."

Alex nods. "Thank you," she whispers.

I nod once, then stand and grab my bottle of Gatorade. I avoid eye contact with Kate. "I - I have to go." I quickly leave the diner, pushing the door open and stepping into the late January air.

It's hard to focus in class. I tap my pen against the desk and bounce my knee and fidget in any way I can. When the math teacher calls on me, it takes me an embarrassingly long amount of time to remember the question. I get the answer wrong.

As I walk home, it begins to rain. The clouds reflect my mental state; hazy, unclear, full of tears and booming thunder. My hair hangs down in wet strands. My shoes and socks are soaked. I walk aimlessly, stalling before I will have to go home. An hour passes. I buy a coke from the gas station and sit on the curb, rain pounding down on me, to kill time. Only when it begins to get dark I start to make my way home.

When I get to the house, I realize I forgot my key. I ring on the doorbell and Nate answers it. In the glow of the porch light, he looks amazing. I look like a drowned rat.

"Nate," I say. I mean to thank him for opening the door.

"I'm sorry," I say instead.

Nate's expression softens. "It's okay," he says gently.

"No," I tell him. "It's not okay. When you first got here, I had a hard time adjusting. You were the rust to my shiny wheels. You were the snow to my sun and the water to the delicate pages of my book."

I run a hand through my hair. "But I didn't mean what I said. Since the moment you left, all I wanted was for you to come back. And maybe it's hard to make room for you in my life. But I'm here, standing in your doorway, trying. This -" I gesture to myself, soaked with rain, dripping in the earth's tears and my tears. "is me trying."

Nate's eyes are filled with an unfamiliar emotion. "I didn't know if you'd care if I came back," he says softly. "I didn't know if you'd even want me to come back. And that's my biggest regret. Leaving you when I didn't even know if coming back was an option."

"Coming home was always an option," I say. My voice is quavering and I hate it. I want to be bold and state my apology and move on. Instead I am fragile like a piece of broken pottery in Nate's hands, but my sharp edges still cut into his calloused fingers and draw red blood.

"It's just that-" I sigh and look up at him. "I need you, Nate. I've always needed you. But now I need you more than ever. It was so hard when you left. But now it's harder to be anywhere when all I want is for things to be alright between us again. I can't be at a party when I feel like a bleeding bruise. I can't be anywhere knowing you're upset because of me. Because of my stupid mouth and my uncontrollable anger and my words that shoot to kill when I'm mad."

He pulls me into the warm glow of the house and wraps his arms around me, holding me tight to his body. I slowly melt in his embrace.

"It's okay," he mumbles into my hair. "You're okay. We're okay."

I pull back to look him in the eyes. "I don't want it to be tense between us anymore. I just want us to be normal again. Friends."

At the word 'friends', his face falls a little. He quickly adjusts his expression and nods, satisfied. "Yup," he says.

Friends.

"So, uh," he says, stepping aside. "Are you coming inside?"

I shake my head. "I have to go somewhere," I tell him. "I'll be back." He hands me an umbrella and his dry hoodie. I turn away from his worried look.

I have one more apology to make.