Billiards and Boundaries

six: the accident

(trigger warning: death of a parent, talks of car accident, self-destructive behavior, grief. 18+ READERS ONLY!!!)

Two hours had passed since the worst phone call of Blair's life.

Her father had gotten into a car accident on his way to work and was killed instantly. She felt hollow and numb within the first ten minutes of hearing the news, and then began sobbing uncontrollably into her roommate's chest.

"I was literally talking to him not even 24 hours ago, Char!" Blair cried. "I was supposed to visit him this weekend, like what the fuck? How does this even happen?"

Blair shook against her best friend whose arms were wrapped around her, squeezing her tightly. Little yelps escaped Blair's throat every so often, and Char was devoid of any words she could say to offer Blair even the slightest bit of solace. She couldn't just tell Blair that everything was okay when it wasn't. All Char could do was hold her and listen, her chest heavy with sorrow and her lips trembling at her best friend's agony.

"He didn't deserve this! My dad is the best man I know," Blair spluttered. "No!" She gasped, her vision blurred by tears. "This doesn't even feel real! He can't be gone, no...he's still here! I won't accept this. Not my daddy..."

The last three words were barely a whisper, but Char caught them and that's when she began crying with her friend. This was awful. The few times she had met Blair's father, he was always exceedingly kind and warm, traits that were quite obviously passed on to his daughter.

"Here, let me grab some Kleenex," Char jested tearfully as she got up and padded into the kitchen.

Blair was spread across the couch on her stomach, weeping into one of their decorative pillows. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and she still had her pajamas on. Her stomach was growling from not having eaten any breakfast but she was positive if she ate anything she would vomit it right back up.

Char situated the box of Kleenex and a glass of water on the coffee table and kneeled on the floor next to Blair, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "You should sit up and have some water, babe."

Blair followed her best mate's advice, sitting up and gulping down the glass of water. "I just don't get it!" She wailed. "I can't handle this. Who the hell am I supposed to call? My dad is the one I call when something is wrong. What am I supposed to do? How do I...ugh!"

"Shhh, don't think about any particulars right now," Charlene soothed her friend. "You just need to take some time to yourself to process all of this. There's no need to figure anything out." She caught Blair's glossy eyes with her own as she found her footing on the carpet. "I'm going to call Niall and let him know what's going on. Do you want to stay in here or...?"

Blair shook her head and tucked the box of Kleenex under her arm after retrieving a couple to blow her nose with. "No, I'm going to my room, I want to be alone."

"Okay, let me know if you need anything at all. I'll be right out here."

"Alright," Blair muttered. "Thanks Char, love you."

"Love you too, babe, and I'm so incredibly sorry."

Blair nodded and made her way back to her room. She threw herself onto her bed and continued crying, shoving her face into her pillow. She overheard her TV in the background and turned to see a rerun episode of Kitchen Nightmares playing on the screen. There was a daughter and son yelling at their father for something, and Blair couldn't stand to watch it. She flipped the channel to Soundscapes and tried to calm her breathing, memories of her father engulfing her mind.

She was remembering all the inside jokes she'd had with her dad — silly little things that no one would understand but the two of them. She remembered how he would sing "I'm a little teapot" to her when she was a little girl as he cradled her in his arms like a baby, tipping her to the side so her head was upside down when it came to the part in the song where the teapot tipped over. She remembered how he had confided in her about his clinical depression when she was eighteen, because she was beginning to exhibit the symptoms and he wanted to let her know she wasn't alone.