I awoke early on Sunday. The drinks from the night prior were taking their toll, but despite the pain, my mind could still replay every second from Saturday night. Every second filling my memory; clear like water.

I was sitting on the old, worn couch at a party on Carl Street, San Francisco. Music blared, people drank, and a strange melancholy sat amongst the thriving crowd- or was it only me? I sat next to Beth, a brunette too blonde for her own good. I like to joke around saying she’s my only friend, but I hate her. She doesn’t know it, but I really do hate her. I hate all my friends, that is, if I have any. Not one of them would go out of their way to help me out of my “unfortunate drug addiction”, or so they like to call it. I’d love to rid myself of it. It seems as if it has lost its solemnity. None of them help or worry about me anymore. It’s nothing to them.

Andrew stood in the kitchen in front of me, conversing with his acquaintances. I wished he’d come over, but I knew he wouldn’t. Not sober.

Beth was fed up with my constant “Andrew this,” and “Andrew that,” but I wasn’t there to spend time with her. She’d try to change the subject, but I was in no mood to talk about anything else. Finally she gave in.

“Ness, you’re twenty one. You shouldn’t be awing over boys like that anymore. Get over him or something,” she said in her know-it-all voice.

“It’s not that easy,” I said, “and I don’t awe over boys. I’m not ten anymore,”

“You act like one.”

“You know just about as much as one.”

She glared at me for a moment, but she can’t ever stay mad at me. After all, I’m the only one who can bear listening to her nag about her teenage scenarios with her immature boyfriends, which is supposedly more important than my problems.

She was tired of me, so she excused herself to the bathroom just as the crowd began to thin out. Andrew looked nonchalant; so content leaning on the kitchen door frame, watching everyone leave him. He spotted me and wandered over.

“Doesn’t look like you’re having any fun,” he said, flopping next to me.

“I’m not. I’d like to go home.”

“I’ve been dying for a smoke. Come outside with me,” he said.

I stood up and followed him outside onto the eroded tile stairs of the Carl Street home. We sat in the cold night, watching the alcohol pervaded people board their cars, say their good byes (and for some it wouldn’t be a surprise if it was their last, but I didn’t want to think about that), and watched the smoke dance out of his mouth. He intrigued me very much. He was laid back, he was chivalrous, he was clean, and he was sane. I liked him.

I was sane before, too. Senior year was once my favorite, and Andrew was a big reason. We were close but I wanted to be closer, and voids must be tended to, but he wasn’t there to fill it... I thought I could find a substitute for happiness. Drugs and alcohol weren’t the same, but I thought they would do, and they did. I dropped out at seventeen, but Andrew kept in touch with me. After high school, Andrew was accepted in a nearby college, and I was left on my own with the money my mom sent me. Gradually, drug addiction set in, and people started noting me drift away. It wasn’t fun, and it hasn’t been getting any better. Andrew was so nice, but he had strange reasons.

“I wish we’d hang out more, Ness,” Andrew whispered, snapping me out of my trance.

“Why don’t we?” I asked. I knew why, though. Andrew knew it, and even Beth knew it, but Andrew didn’t want to tell me the truth. He thought it was too rude.

“I don’t know, but we could-“

“You know,” I said. “You know right well why you’ve been avoiding me for so long. You just don’t want to admit it to me.”

“I don’t avoid you,” he said. He let out a breath of smoke, flowing like a dragon, and cocked his head to the right to look at me. He knew how I felt.

“It would be nice if it were true.”

Everybody was gone now. The lights inside of the house were harsh on our eyes, and the only cars parked in front of the home were Andrew’s car and the resident’s Astro Van.

“You know, I really like you. I really do, and I hope you know that,” he said. “I guess I’m just not one for showing my feelings, am I?”

“I know why you’re this way. You’re scared of my addiction. You don’t want to be like my mom. Responsible for me and the things I do, giving me money I eventually waste.”

He didn’t say anything to me for a while. Andrew let out one more cloud of smoke into the cold air, and stood up.


“Let’s go inside. It’s getting cold,” he said.

I was getting tired, but I followed. I scanned the room, but there was no sign of Beth.

“Damn it,” I said. “Beth’s ditched me, and she was my ride home.”

“I’ll be your ride,” he said. I knew he’d offer.

“Thanks.”

I fumbled around and located my bag. There wasn’t anything in it for anyone to steal; I was broke.

We left the few people who were there, of which most of them were out cold and covered with marker. Andrew and I climbed into his car. I was quite amused by it. I don’t own my own car. My apartment wasn’t far from Carl Street, but the drive felt longer than usual.

“I don’t get you and your reasons,” I said, breaking the silence.

“You explained them yourself. I don’t need to tell you why again.”

“Tell me.”

I wanted to tell him I could change, but after all of the times he’s told me he could help me. I didn’t want to seem weak. He doesn’t get that he’s the problem, either. He’s started it all, and I only wished that he’d stick around for me and love me back.

“I’m just scared.” He said.

“Of me?”

“I’m scared of hurting you.”

“Are you trying to sound sappy? I’m no kid, and you shouldn’t act like one. You couldn’t hurt me anymore if you tried. I’ve lost a whole lot of feeling after realizing you’re not interested in me; after turning to drugs. I’ve changed a lot,” I said. He knew I was so interested in him. “You’re a tease. You seem so casual about all this, but you keep your distance from me.”

“You don’t know how hard it is,” he said, smiling, “to pretend I don’t like you, when I do. It’s weird.”

“Do you like me, or do you like me? Are you only hiding it? Is this what it is?”

“I think so.”
`
He liked me back. I knew it all along, but I don’t know why he had to be this way.

“You don’t have to hide. There isn’t any reason to, anyway,” I said.

We got out of his car and he walked me to my apartment. He followed me inside and I got us something quick to drink. We talked, and he tried to explain to me again, yet I didn’t understand him. Did he love me? Was this just to mess with me? Was this real? I could not say. He ended up staying the night, but not the morning.

This brings us back to Sunday morning. I got up off the couch and massaged my temples. He wasn’t there. Andrew didn’t leave a note or anything. I hoped he would. I wandered around the silent home, looking for nothing. Eventually, I got dressed and ready for my 2nd shift job at a Goodwill around the corner. I finished my coffee and hopped on my bike.

Goodwill was Hell itself. Everyone was talking, children screamed, women trashed the store, and the place was hot. My head throbbed and my stomach growled, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Andrew. He, finally after four years, confessed to me he felt the same way. Finally, at five o’ clock or so, there was someone at the door for me. It was Andrew. He looked embarrassed, to be honest. He strolled in and I greeted him with my “I love people!” voice.

He was just as unhappy as me, I think.

“Hey, Andrew,” I said.

“Hey,” he began to say. “Um, I’m sorry about last night.”

“What do you mean? Last night was a good night.”

“It was a mistake. I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

I was so happy before. He basically told me he felt the same way. He showed me. Now he goes back to hiding it. I didn’t know what to say; I was so enraged.

“Are you serious?” I said, losing the gentle, fake happiness act, drawing attention to the two of us. “You’re exactly what I said you are. You’re a tease and you just want to mess around with my mind. I thought you and I were getting along for a moment!”

“I wasn’t thinking,” he repeated.

“You were! You’re just a liar! You’re scared. You even said it yourself!”

“Sh, keep it down! Everyone’s looking!” he whispered.

“To hell if everyone’s looking! I don’t care! Let them hear how bad you suck. You’re a horrible person!” I yelled.

“You could be a little grateful, you know, about me. I try to help.”

“Of course you do.”
“Talk to me again when you’re not so self-centered,” he said as he turned away.

“I’m not!” I yelled as I followed him out of the store.

It was growing dark and cold. He was in only a t-shirt, and it looked like he walked here, and I felt horrible.

“You can stop it now,” he said, turning around, stretching with his hands on his head.

“Stop what?”

“Stop acting so pitiful! No one likes that! I’m tired of it, I’m sorry! I love you, but I’m just so tired of this. I’m sorry.”

I stood in the windy night in front of him, feeling like a fool. “You’re tired of me? Well I am too! I’m so tired of myself. You don’t have to live with that every day like I do. You might have to live with the burden of me, but not how I do. What happened to you? Why do you have to be such a prick this way?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. You’re so pitiful. It’s annoying,” he said.

“It’s how it really is!”

“You’re not really who you were before.”
He walked away, down the road, and I slouched down on the pillar of the store for a smoke. Something I haven’t done in a while. The words I yelled left an unpleasant taste in my mouth. I watched Andrew go away, rubbing his arms to keep warm. He looked so small as he walked further and further away, and I laughed. He was right. I didn’t have any respect for myself, but that was hard to have. How can I respect myself when I am the reason Andrew doesn’t love me? Eventually, another employee came outside and demanded me to get back in the store and work.
The shift ended at seven and I got home at around seven ten. Waiting at home for me were my trusty TV and my drinks. I locked my door and flopped onto my couch. My mom would be sending me money soon, so I had to live off of what I had, which wasn’t a lot. I felt so alone and so sad, but I drowned it out with my happiness substitutes.

I picked up my phone and unlocked it. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to call Andrew, but I also wanted to OD and die.

I called him instead.

He took a while to pick up, but he eventually did. At first it was silence, but I broke it with a simple, “Hey.”

“How are you?” he replied, soft and slow with caution.

“I’m okay,” I said.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t feel the same anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I said after too much silence.

“It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. I lost him and the connection we had. It wasn’t the same.

“Please don’t be like that, it only makes it worse. I don’t want to hear what I want to hear any more! You know how it is with me. I don’t have anyone else. I’m not gentle with other people’s emotions. I want it how it was before, but I’m careless. I’m not the same anymore!”

He spoke calmly. “You’re not the same, Ness, and I wish you were. I miss you.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be who I was before. I’ve lost myself trying to get you and I don’t want to move on. Forgive me for what I am now.”

“Do you even know who you are anymore?”

“I don’t know, but I can forget. I can forget if you can too,” I said. Tears began to form in my eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“Can you forget me, Andrew?”

I sat on the couch with my knees up to my chest, with one hand on the phone and the other wiping my eyes.

“Wait, what? What are you doing?” He wasn’t calm anymore.

“Andrew,” I said with my hand muffling my voice, “I’ve gone too long like this, doing anything for drugs. I can’t change. The damage is done.”

There was shuffling on the other side of the phone.

“Andrew?”

“Ness?” he said, so sad and quiet.

“I died a long time ago, in my eyes.”

He let out a breath and I could almost envision the cigarette smoke move about like a ghost. I could hear the harsh autumn wind on the phone speaker. It reminded me of him with that t-shirt on, standing in the cold with such disappointment on his face.

“I’m coming over. Please, don’t move.”

“Andrew-”

“I’ll be right there.”

He hung up on me and I put down my phone. I didn’t want him to come back. He had already done enough, but apparently it wasn’t enough for him. The front door opened and he allowed himself in.
“You don’t have to follow me around anymore,” I said to him as he came closer. It reminded me of the night at the party.
“I just want to help you.”
“You can’t help me anymore. I’ve lost my mind, and I’m not getting it back!”

It was true. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I didn’t have much purpose besides greeting people as they entered Goodwill, or knock out at parties of people I hardly knew. I didn’t have a pet to take care of or a car to keep clean, I didn’t have a guy to come home to, I didn’t even graduate high school, and I didn’t have friends. I had happiness substitutes and happiness substitutes had me.

“I can’t forgive myself,” I said, trying to be audible, “but I could forget. Can you forget me?”

“What?” he said.

“Forget me.”

He stood in front of me and I could feel his disappointment.
“I did this to you. I don’t want to forget you. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for who? Sorry for you or for me? Because I’m sorry for me too! This whole time I’ve expected something in return after I’ve followed you endlessly, but I got nothing! Nothing but sadness and loneliness!”

“I promise you I can help you!”

“You say that, but I know one day you’re gonna find a girl and she’s not gonna want me hanging on your back, and neither will you! You’re not my suicide watch!” I screamed. “You’re so nice to me, but you never stick around. Not even as a friend. Some things just shouldn’t be hidden because it hurts me too.”

“I don’t feel that way. I want to stick around, and not just for you!”

“That’s a lie! You don’t love me enough!”

“I do! I love you, Ness, and I have for a long time too! I know what I’ve done. It wasn’t a mistake.”

“But you hid it. It broke me. How could you love me if I’m not even me anymore?”

“You know who you are. You never left!” Andrew said.

I stood in front of him, tired. I was exhausted of fighting back.

“I just hate what I’ve become!” I whined.

“I don’t. I never did.” Andrew whispered.

He was telling the truth. I could see it through the pain in his eyes. He came closer and embraced me. After all I did just to convince him, to make him confess, it finally came together, but alas, the world is not fair.

“But you can’t help me anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I-I-” I stuttered. My stomach began to hurt immensely. “I can’t…”

“What?!”

“I love you, Andrew,” I said.

“What’s wrong?” he said, trying to keep me on my feet, but it was too late. Twenty Xanax pills all kicking in at the same time. I didn’t know what I was anymore. I didn’t belong. I wasn’t happy. I wished he could forget me; I didn’t want to hurt him anymore. I lay on the ground clenching my stomach. I wanted to see Andrew’s face one last time, but it hurt so badly and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. He knew he was too late. He cried and screamed as he tried to get me off the floor and call an ambulance, but no one was bringing me back. It was done.