Hello, Goodbye

16: Grace

 { unedited }

She knows she shouldn’t be crying. He’ll see her, weak. But she can’t help the tears, or her quivering bottom lip. She can’t help it. Zeya looks scared, and confused. Had she not known she’d been kissing Saxon? And Saxon…he is expressionless, everything about him blank. He’s just staring. And then, he throws up. Eliza jumps back in surprise, a squeal leaving her parted lips.

The stench is horrible. It makes the entire house smell worse than earlier. It had previously smelt like sweaty teenagers and beer. Now it smelt like a dumpster. He lets out a groan and Zeya hoists him up. “Where’s your bathroom?” she asks, voice weak and shy.

“Second door to your left.” She turns to Grace. “I told you that you shouldn’t have come. And definitely, you shouldn’t have come in. I did tell you.”

“You knew they were kissing,” she whispers. James sighs and walks away dramatically, Eliza ignores him. “You can’t do one thing to help me?”

“I told you not to come in.”

“You didn’t stop me when I did. You knew they were kissing,” she says, her tone accusing. She folds her arms over her chest as Eliza sighs in exasperation and rolls her eyes.

“No. I knew that Zeya was helping him around the place because he was totally smashed and I knew that he didn’t want to leave and I knew – I knew nothing else, Grace. I didn’t think they’d kiss. I thought he was throwing up and that was why they were here, in the corridor.” The sound of Saxon gagging fills in a blank space of light drums in the music. Grace winces.

“I want to go check on him.” Eliza shrugs, as if she couldn’t care less what Grace does. She steps around the pool of vomit, holding her nose. She walks in and almost pukes out her dinner. Not only is the sight of anyone throwing up enough to gross Grace out but Saxon, being patted soothingly on the back by Zeya did not make it any better. “You could’ve told me you were dating.”

“We’re not, though,” Zeya says. She isn’t making eye contact with Grace.

“So, what was that about?” she demands, trying to keep her voice steady. She jerks her thumb back to the bathroom’s doorway, into the hallway.

“Grace, he’s drunk.”

“I’m asking you, Zeya,” she hisses, pointing at her with her chubby pointer finger. Zeya gulps. “Don’t be scared of me, Z,” she almost adds. Zeya is still rubbing soothing circles across Saxon’s back with her hand. He’s stopped throwing up, he’s just dry retching into the bowl.

“He kissed me; that’s what I’m trying to say.” Grace is surprised by the sincerity of her tone. She look up at Grace for the first time, their eyes locking. Her eyes are so similar to Saxon’s, a beautiful green. She almost smiles.

“You didn’t stop him,” she says finally, her voice weak.

“How do you stop someone like Saxon from kissing you?” Grace is about to say something, a definitely rude remark, when there’s a cough by the toilet.

“Zeya, can you take me home?” Saxon croaks, his voice dry. “I don’t feel very well.” Zeya sighs and looks back at him. She stands and hooks her arms underneath Saxon’s armpits. He seems to notice Grace for the first time when he nearly runs into her on the way out. “Grace.” His breath stinks of vomit and beer. He seems genuinely surprised and happy. But then he is scared and his face contorts and he sinks into Zeya.

“I’ll just go,” she says, quietly, and mostly to herself. She rushes out, running around Saxon’s vomit and pushing her way through the mass of fellow students. Most stumble around with bottles or cups of beer in their hands, dazed. She finds her way out and throws the door open. She stumbles out, gasping for fresh air.