Between the Stacks

Chapter 18

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Wesley asked. He was a few steps behind me, trying to catch up as I sped back towards the downtown core. "Maybe we should talk more about Alex-"

I stopped dead in my tracks. "I can't talk about Alex," I said.

It had been almost a decade since his death, and on some days, it still felt like yesterday. The screaming, the ambulance, the terrible wait in the hospital-

I didn't want to think about it. Couldn't. Since high school I had shoved these memories deep, deep down in my psyche or wherever nightmares lived. To somehow make it worse, I couldn't believe Wesley was the first person I told. Not Melissa, or Matteo, or any other friend - just Wesley, the guy who was openly trying to steal my job.

I felt like I was teetering on the edge of some sort of precipice. On one side there was Alex, with his dark brown eyes and the cowlick of hair that never sat straight. He loved Pokémon and the Muppets, chocolate cake and blueberry muffins.

And on the other side of the precipice was the normal world, one with glittering lights and a whole list of attractions to distract me.

"I know what it's like-" Wesley was saying behind me, but I barely heard. There was a loud clanging in my head - Alex is dead, Alex is dead, Alex is dead - and I would do anything to drown it out.

A drunken group of students stood outside a bar, dancing to a pop remix of Mamma Mia from the speakers built into the alcove. Perfect. ABBA could solve any crisis.

"Let's go," I said, grabbing Wesley's arm and guiding him past the students.

The inside entrance was just as crowded as the outside. Wesley's mouth was suddenly warm against my ear. "I want it on the record that this is a bad idea," he said over the music. "We can still leave."

"Are you saying you don't like Mamma Mia?" I said, purposely dodging the question. "Who are you?"

He gave me a look that clearly said, I know what you're doing. Then he added, "I'm more of a Dancing Queen fan."

I threw my head back and laughed, and it felt intoxicating. There, in that moment. In those few seconds I laughed, I hadn't thought about Alex at all. I wanted more of that.

The bar was larger than expected; I had never been here before. The hostess at the front explained that there were a few sections: the restaurant on the main floor, the club upstairs, and karaoke in the basement.

"Karaoke!" I yelled.

"Absolutely not," Wesley said.

And that's why, five minutes later, we were downstairs and watching as a drunk college student warbled through Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On.

"Have you seen the kazoo version of this?" Wesley grumbled into his water. "I preferred the kazoo."

I snorted and took another swig of my drink. I wasn't quite sure what was in it - maybe curacao, Sprite, and regret - but it tasted delicious and I planned on getting a second. With another gulp I finished the first.

Before I could get up, Wesley pushed his water towards me. "Take a few sips."

"Why?" I asked, suddenly feeling belligerent.

I didn't like the way I was acting. Some part of me, floating above all this mess, knew that I was running from my problems.

Wesley reached out to grab my hand. "Because you're looking a little tipsy."

"What do you mean?" I asked, right as I spilled my drink.

In my defense, it was his fault - if he hadn't grabbed my hand I wouldn't have been so jumpy. His hand had been far too warm for comfort.