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by Grace Singer
From Part Four: Chapter Four
Morning dawned, dark and gray. A thick fog lay over everything in Willoughby. For a moment it seemed that winter had returned. There was a stiff chill in the air that hung over the grass like frost. The brave flowers that bloomed early this season shivered in their sleep.
Emma woke trembling. In her fevered sleep she had kicked all the blankets off her bed. She'd been sober for a week, a difficult task, considering how much she'd been drinking for the past few weeks. That night on the pier with Evangeline had shaken her. She quit that day, still reeling from the vodka she had the night before.
She didn't think withdrawal would be so bad. Not for drinking anyway. She'd heard about shakes and fevers and pain. She thought that only "real" drug users experienced the worst of it. Yet here she was, shivering in the morning after tossing and turning all night. She felt like she was on fire and then suddenly frozen.
I should have listened to my mother and never even started, she thought bitterly. Nothing was worse than admitting that her mother was right. Not even the pain of withdrawal.
She was determined to see this through. Even if nothing would come of it. Evangeline could never love her back, that much she knew. Receiving the wake up call from her had been the hardest of all. This whole stupid mess revolved around that girl and it wasn't even remotely her fault.
If I'd just come out and told her. If I'd just come out…
Her thoughts were playing mutiny on this cold, dismal morning. At least she didn't have to go to school today. She could pull the covers back up over her head and pretend she wasn't awake. It worked for a little while, but the mirage faded away when the sun broke free from the clouds.
She flipped the sun off, through her window as she struggled out of bed and downstairs.
"You look like hell," her father commented.
Her mother put a hand to her forehead. "You feel a little feverish still. Are you sure you're ok?" she asked, all concern and maternal love.
Just shoot me in the face. "I'm fine," she replied. She batted her mother's hand away with a whiny grumble.
"Want something to eat pumpkin?" her father asked, amused by his daughter's antics this morning.
"Oh god no," she answered, her stomach turning at the very thought of food.
Berk looked up from his seat at the kitchen table. He was quiet this morning. Usually at this point he'd be cracking wise at her expense. He smiled wanly and munched on his cereal. He waited until mom and dad left for the afternoon. They liked to take day trips every Saturday, especially just the two of them now that the kids were old enough to take care of themselves.
He looked up at his little sister, leaning against the counter as if it might just hold her up. "What's the deal?" he asked in a polite tone.
She startled at his voice. "What?" she asked. She didn't feel awake. She thought she should be over this by now, but everything passed in a haze. If she'd done her homework, she might have read the chapter on psychology and psychosomatic symptoms. She would have known that she felt terrible mentally and emotionally and that translated to the body when it was vulnerable enough.
"Sit," he said knowingly. Part of why he'd flunked out of college was the drinking and the drugs. That's why he came home. To straighten out, fix what was broken. He was glad in a way, that Emma had come to it earlier than he had. She could sort it out now before she went off to college.
She sat, intrigued that her brother was taking the time to talk to her, after all the mean things she'd said to him when he came home. His sophomore year ended after a month of partying and flunking all of his classes. It was his decision to come home. He called it a sabbatical. He hated that he was still home now. He'd lost his scholarship and had to pay for loans and all that. He was working a crap job to make enough money to go back. He hoped he'd have enough by the end of summer.
Living with his sister again was no easy thing. Admitting to his parents that he fucked up was the easy part. Getting Emma to give him a break was not. He stopped trying. Now, sitting at the kitchen table, he was going to be the better person and give her the break. Maybe then she'd be able to let it go and treat him better.
"Listen, we've been awful to each other. And when I say we I mean you and when I say each other I mean me. But fuck it," he shrugged and his spoon flipped a flake of cereal up to hit the ceiling and land on the table with a wet slap.
She laughed, at first quietly and then growing in hysteria until he joined her. The siblings laughed until their sides hurt and they could finally face each other, as adults. "I'm sorry," she said after a strange silence in which he gazed at the flake of cereal in disbelief.
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry for fucking up and landing myself back here. I didn't want to come home, but honestly, I didn't have any other choice. I was in much worse shape than you."
She looked down, felt awkward.
"Yeah, I know. Who do you think kept replacing all the missing alcohol? That's not the kind of stuff mom and dad don't miss. I guess I enabled you, but what the fuck; I'd rather you go through this now than later, when there's no one there to catch you."
She looked up again and smiled. She wanted to reach across the table and hug her brother. They hadn't done that in years. Not even when he left for college. She'd been glad to be rid of him. She hated him because he was exactly what their parents wanted him to be. She could never do that. It was easier to hate him than to live up to her parents' standards.
"I didn't know anyone would be here to catch me."
"That's what brothers do," he replied simply. He gazed at her, wondering why she didn't know that. "What made you change your mind?"
"A friend," she replied. "Someone else I didn't think could catch me. I didn't think she had the strength. Too many of her own problems." Emma shrugged and sighed. "I know why I'm self-destructing," she said her fingers reaching out to pick at the fallen cereal flake. It was mushy, breaking under her touch. "The question is, can I stop myself?"
Berkley nodded. "That's why I came home. And you know what, I did stop myself. It's hard to stop when you don't know what the problem is. But you know, right?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"As lame as this sounds, that's the first step. Admitting there's a problem," he joked in an ominous tone.
She sighed heavily in response. She was too heavily in her thoughts to be amused. He reached over the table and patted her hand. "It's hard, but I'm here for you. If you need to talk, I'll listen."
"I'm not entirely sure you'd understand," she replied, feeling ashamed of herself. She feared the rejection and hatred that came from living in a small town.
"Try me," he replied squeezing her hand gently. "You'd be surprised, you're older brother is pretty damn hip."
She smiled at this. "Right," she replied sarcastically. "So hip he'd understand his stupid little sister's problems."
"Boy trouble?"
"Not by a long shot."
"Bad grades."
"Somewhat, but that's not the problem."
He shrugged. "What, are you gay?" he asked shaking his head as if even he doubted this possibility.
Her silence answered the question asked in jest. "Oh," he said. "Well then. Yeah, I am hip enough to understand my gay little sister's problems."
She shook her head. She couldn't speak. Tears were welling up in her eyes and she didn't know what to think.
"Better than you think. Mom and dad are going to regret birthing us."
A tear slipped down her cheek and she noticed her brother had become very serious. "Why's that?" she asked. She wanted him to say it out loud. She wanted to know that they were close as siblings, the kind that handled their problems the same way.
"Come on," he said rolling his eyes. "Like you don't know."
"And you knew I was?" she retorted, swiping her tears away with a dismissive hand.
"I didn't. Honestly. But come on;" he replied, "a boy who wrestles, listens to Broadway musical soundtracks, and knows how to accessorize?"
"That's just a stereotype I'll have you know. And you don't have to live up to it no matter how gay you are."
"Well then. Everyone's out of the closet."
She closed her eyes. Of all the things she expected from today, not this. "Have you told mom and dad?"
"Not yet," he replied. "I'm not sure they're ready for that kind of shock. Maybe when I get a boyfriend. And you get a girlfriend. We'll double date and bring them home to meet the parents. That'll be a hoot."
She laughed. "You're hysterical this morning," she commented.
He smiled. "I try." He grabbed his spoon and poked her arm with it. "Feel better?"
"Not really," she replied. "But I think I will." She stood then and crossed the kitchen to her brother. She threw her arms around him and squeezed tight. "Don't tell anyone else, but you're awesome."
It was his turn to laugh and enjoy the simple irony. His kindness opened her up and was returned ten-fold. Of all the things he expected today, certainly not this.