Along The Distant Shore

Chapter 5

The door clicked softly behind me, but the thud of my heart was louder. My head throbbed, pulsing with each beat, and I was almost certain it wasn't just from the hill I'd skated down. What had I even eaten today? Oh, right. Nothing. Too many beers? Maybe. And then there was the fact that I smoked almost a whole joint. Stupid, River.

I pressed my fingers against my temples, willing the dull ache to stop. God, I needed to lie down. The living room was dark, just how I wanted it. I could slip upstairs, bury myself under my sheets, and forget about this whole night. But Leo... I stopped myself from thinking about him. No. We're friends, that's all. Friends who skateboard together and have long, lingering goodbyes...

A sharp click brought me back to reality, and I winced as light flooded the room. Blinking against the brightness, I saw Dad standing there, arms crossed and his jaw tight. His face was cast in harsh shadows, but I didn't need perfect light to know he was pissed.

"River." His voice was low, controlled—too controlled.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

I blinked against the sudden brightness, trying to pull myself together. My head still throbbed, but now it wasn't just the hangover. "Dad, I—"

"Do you know what time it is?" he interrupted, his voice tight and a little shaky. "I've been calling you for hours. You didn't text, didn't answer. I had no idea where you were, River."

I could feel the guilt creeping in, heavy and sour in my stomach. I'd gotten so caught up in everything—Leo, the party, the hill—that I hadn't even looked at my phone. I opened my mouth, but he wasn't finished.

"I thought maybe something happened," he continued, his words quick, frustration spilling over into every syllable. "You can't just disappear like that."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of his worry settle over me. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to—"

"That's the thing, River," he cut in again, his eyes narrowing, "you didn't mean to, but you did. I don't know if you understand how—" he stopped himself, rubbing a hand over his face. He took a breath, like he was trying to hold it all in. "Look, I get that you're young, and you want to enjoy yourself. I'm not saying you can't go out with your friends. But not calling? Not texting? You can't just vanish, especially with..."

His voice trailed off, and I knew exactly what he wasn't saying. Especially with what's going on. The elephant in the room, the thing we danced around, both trying not to look directly at it. I felt my throat tighten.

"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a weak smile. "It was just a party. I didn't mean to worry you."

He exhaled, looking down like he was trying to find his footing again. He shook his head slowly, turning to leave. "I need to cool off. We'll talk about this in the morning—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his back stiffening as he took a small sniff. His shoulders rose as he turned back to face me, eyes narrowing in a way that made my stomach flip.

"Is that...?" He trailed off again, taking a step closer. "Were you smoking?"

The silence stretched between us like a rubber band ready to snap. I couldn't lie to him, not with the smell practically hanging off me like a guilty confession. My pulse quickened as I searched for the right words, but they didn't come.

His jaw tightened. "River, are you serious? After everything? After what we've been through, you're out there getting high? Do you have any idea how reckless that is?"

I wanted to protest, to say it wasn't a big deal, that it was just a few puffs of weed, but his words hit too close to home. Reckless. Messing with things I shouldn't. He wasn't just talking about the weed; he was talking about me, about my life, about the one thing we weren't supposed to acknowledge.