Spiked Coffee

Short Story: Red Lights

Red lights cast shadows around him as Eamon walked through the house. His head was pounding and cigarette smoke burned his eyes. Heat radiated off of everyone at the party. Pushing past all the people he finally found Gemma exactly where he knew she would be. Surrounded by people, talking their ears off, holding their attention. He smiled as he made his way across the room to the girl he loved.

"Hey babe. I'm getting a headache, I was thinking of heading home."

Gemma looked at him with big, half vacant eyes. Eamon knew that look. She was already drunk, and high on something, but he had no idea what it was this time. Gemma started to lose her balance, Eamon tensed when she reached out to him but caught her before she fell. He hated the way she giggled about it.

Eamon bit his lip. "Do you want to come with me?"

"You go ahead." Gemma was unaware she was yelling.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I release you, fly home."

"Alright, stay safe."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

As Eamon walked through the kitchen towards the door, a bowl fell off the island and smashed on the floor beside him. Pieces of white ceramic laid at his feet the same way they had that day with Gemma's family.

He, Gemma, her parents, and her brother Taylor had been having lunch. Gemma was in the middle of telling her parents about the graduate program she was applying to when Taylor started to mumble unintelligibly. Gemma's mother tore her attention from her daughter, moving to her son. She spoke to Gemma's father, not taking her eyes off Taylor. "Elijah, get the blanket, Taylor's getting overloaded. It must be all the forks scraping on the plates."

Gemma's parents abandoned everything to tend to Taylor but he had already started to meltdown, screaming, hitting the table and himself. A plate shattered on the tiles. Blue stoneware shards scattered at Eamon's feet.

Eamon sat still, feeling unsure of what to do. His eyes drifted over to Gemma. At first glance he thought she was just ignoring everything, after all, Gemma had lived her entire life with Taylor having meltdowns. This was something she had experienced regularly growing up. But when he looked closer, he could see it. The subtle way her nostrils were flaring, her eyes burning a hole in the napkin in front of her.

Gemma disappeared for a while after that. Eamon found her in the basement. She was sitting on the concrete floor, manically flipping through her high school artwork.

"What are you doing?" Eamon leaned against the door frame.

"Which ones do think are best?" Gemma didn't take her eyes off the artwork.

"What?"

"It's not a hard question. Which ones are best?"

"Ok... the one with the colourful mountains is nice, the woman with the hat, and the couple in bed."

Gemma smiled at her work. "You're right. 'Embrace'" −she pointed to the painting of a couple with their legs tangled together in a bed− "won an award, best in the district that year."

She took her choices and went up the stairs. After about twenty minutes of posing with the paintings and some overgrown house plants, Gemma grabbed the phone out of Eamon's hands and got to work on an Instagram post.

"I think people will like these." She smiled at the screen.

That dinner was just over a year ago. After that, a lot of things about Gemma made more sense. He hadn't noticed before the extent of her drinking and drug use. The way she had to have people around her, talking to her, looking at her. She was addicted.

Eamon kicked a piece of the broken bowl under the island. His head was still pounding but he turned around and started back through the crowd towards Gemma and the smell of gin.

"Alright, we're home." Eamon threw his keys on the counter.

Gemma stumbled into her apartment after him, tripping over her heels. Eamon reached out to steady her and lead her into the bedroom where she immediately fell onto the bed.

"So, did you have a good time tonight?" Eamon sat down next to her.

Gemma mumbled into the duvet and kicked her leg up.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Everything was silent for a minute, Eamon's head almost felt better. But it didn't last. Gemma shot up off the bed and ran to the bathroom. Eamon sighed, he started to roll his eyes but stopped himself. When he got into the bathroom, Gemma had her head in the toilet. Eamon sat down on the edge of the cold tub and gathered her hair into his hands.

Gemma blinked back tears. "You left me."

"What? No I didn't."

"You were going to!"

They were both still for a moment before Gemma got up and rinsed her mouth.

Eamon looked up at her. "You know you don't have to go so hard every time you drink, or go out every time it's offered."

"People give a shit when I do."

"Yeah, everyone at those parties is your best friend."

"They like me." Gemma stared at him through the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink.

"Dammit Gemma, I like you. How many times do I have to hold your hair back before you get it? Because I've done it three times in the past month." Eamon stood up and stepped toward Gemma. "Why isn't that good enough for you."

Gemma turned to look at Eamon. She crossed her arms in front of her chest but took a step toward him.

"Please, promise me you'll take a break for just a week. So that I can sleep at night."

Gemma looked down at the floor like a child who had just gotten in trouble. "Fine, I'll take a break."

"Thank you." Eamon took Gemma in his arms and kissed the top of her head.

A few days later, Eamon rested his head on the steering wheel. He looked at his phone, then at the house with people pouring out of it. The red lights in the Instagram stories lit up his face in the dark. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the seat. Gemma's promise rang in his ears. Then her parents' voices discussing Taylor instead of her. Eamon opened the car door before stopping to look at the crowd on the lawn. When he realized that they probably didn't even know Gemma's name he hit his steering wheel, letting the horn blare to try and silence his own guilt.

He found Gemma, drinking vodka straight from the bottle, a crowd cheering her on. Eamon called her name and Gemma walked over to latch onto his arm. He could smell the alcohol on her breath, and she had an empty smile plastered on her face. Everyone around the couple dispersed, giving Eamon dirty looks for ruining their fun.

He didn't look Gemma in the eye. "It hasn't even been four days."

Gemma swivelled back and forth on her feet. "Why so serious?"

"I just don't get why you can't go one week without drinking yourself stupid."

Gemma stood up straighter as she backed away from Eamon. "You don't get it. You didn't grow up like I did. Always a last thought for the person whose supposed to love you."

"You're right I didn't grow up like you." Eamon's jaw was tight and his voice was cold.

"Look, I'm not going to be everyone's second thought for the rest of my life!"

"Neither am I!" Eamon caught himself and took a breath. He reached out to take Gemma's hand, pleading with her one last time. "Come on Gemma, you can't act like this forever."

"Who's gonna care if I do?"

"I don't know who." Eamon let go of Gemma's hand and walked out of the house.