One Last Attempt

009

I'm standing in front of Baker. He smiles at me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You've changed."

It takes everything in me to stop myself from punching him in the face. I almost do it, even though I've never hit someone before. My hand is balled at my side, my fingers wrapped together in a tight fist. I have so many unanswered questions now, but Baker wouldn't know how to respond to any of them.

Why did you kill yourself in front of our friend? Was she in the apartment or down below? What problem does Ava have? Why did you kill yourself twice, when I did everything in my power to cheer you up?

"You okay, Freds?" he takes his hand off of me.

I walk into the kitchen, ignoring Jessie who is sitting on the chaise lounge. In the kitchen, I put down the champagne bottle and shrug off my coat. Behind me, I hear Mari arriving. They are going to send her to me, so I have very little time.

I end up putting my coat on the table and walking into the bathroom. There, I splash my face with cold water. It seems as though I am learning from my mistakes while Baker is not. Unlike myself, he is choosing to end his life over and over again. Can't he see that it is destroying me? Destroying us? Why would he do this? Why doesn't he care about us the way we care about him?

There is a knock at the door.

"Freddie?" Mari asks.

I dry off my face. I almost answer the door, but there is nothing I can say to her without sounding crazy. Last time I saw her, she was in hysterics. She was melting. If I face her now, I might break down in tears. I haven't gotten my chance to cry at my failed attempt yet, but I would rather it not be now.

"I'm alright," I don't dare say her name, in case I slip up. I don't dare acknowledge that she is waiting for me. "Give me a minute."

Through the door, Jessie's voice is muffled. "Just let Freddie take a shit in peace."

At the sound of Jessie, I open the door. He stands, staring at me on the other side. Water drips down my face onto my white shirt. I'm sure I look sweaty and gross, and so Jessie just stares at me.

"Are, fuck Freddie, are you good?" he asks.

I look at Mari, who also looks at me. Her lips, stained a deep red, are parted and her eyes are full and round. She's not crying. Not this time. My hands shake. "Do you need a towel?"

Before she can move to grab me one, I take the hand towel and rub my face clean. It is rough and bumpy, probably cheap. I can feel the fluffs detaching on to my face, probably leaving me more of a mess.

Behind the others, I see Baker, standing at the entrance to the kitchen. He leans on the doorway, his jaw wound tightly. His eyes are vacant, like a haunted house. I feel like I'm living inside a haunted house. I feel like I'm living in an abandoned prison. This is a zombie apocalypse, and no matter where I go, Baker is chasing me with blank eyes.

"Earth to Freddie," Jessie says.

Mari nudges him. As if she didn't say it to me earlier tonight. Or, I mean last night. This last night. The second time I arrived at the party, where I was decidedly less confused and happier, despite having attended Baker's funeral that very day.

"I need to talk to Jessie," I tell them. "In private."

Mari stiffens, but she walks out of the room. In the doorway, she takes Baker's hand and leads him out. From the other room, I can hear him laughing. Maybe he didn't even notice that I was here and that I look so dishevelled. It's not too late to leave this place with him and go on our adventures.