Who Can Really Blame You?

I don’t sleep. I don’t really do anything, that is, until Talia breaks into my apartment that afternoon, Tayler and Hadley in tow.

“Ainsley?” Talia calls as she opens the door. She glances into the kitchen, and sees me sitting against the cabinets. She rushes over to me, and kneels next to me. We don’t say anything for awhile. She suddenly hugs me.

“Oh, baby,” she says. I would have laughed at that in normal circumstances, but this isn’t normal. Carter likes me. He just doesn’t like me enough to be brave.

“What happened?” Hadley asks, standing awkwardly in the entry to the kitchen.

“I dunno,” Talia says, pulling away to look at me, “What’s wrong, honey?”

I shrug. Maybe what’s wrong is that my dad’s still dead, maybe it’s that Carter doesn’t want me enough, maybe it’s because my friends broke into my apartment to see if I’m okay, because they love me. I’d like to think the last one is why. It’s so sweet.

“You broke into my apartment,” I say, watching Tayler flop down on the couch. He wants me to feel better; he just can’t ever seem to manage comforting. Not his fault.

“Duh,” Talia says, “We’re worried.”

I look at the ceiling.

“Carter said he’s already been by,” Hadley says quietly, “He didn’t want to come over again. What happened?”

“We talked,” I say, “He almost kissed me. He ran. I yelled at him. He said he likes me, but that he’s scared. It’s stupid.”

Talia glares. This pisses her off.

“You two have got to sort this out,” Hadley sighs. It’s probably what Talia was thinking, but in nicer and less violent words.

“Right, like Ainsley should even talk to him anymore. Carter’s a fucking pansy,” Talia sighs. I almost tell her to be nicer.

“I don’t want everyone to be broken hearted,” Hadley says, looking to her hands, folded against her legs.

“I’m not,” I say, and take her hand.

She looks at me, sighs, and squeezes my hand.

“You are, whether or not it’s over Carter,” she says quietly. I think about that for a moment.

“The funeral is tomorrow,” I say.

“We’re all coming with you,” Talia says.

I smile at her. It’s a thank you in the language Friend.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Hadley asks me. I shake my head.

“No,” I say softly, “Another day.”

She nods, and squeezes my hand before letting go and standing up. She holds out a hand to Talia, who accepts, and is pulled up, and then offers it to me. I stare at it, and look up at Hadley. She looks particularly beautiful like this. I tell her so as she pulls me up. She laughs.

“If we were only straight,” she jokes, and we go into the living room where Talia smacks her brother (probably for not being there for me) and I take the remote from him and let everyone else choose a movie to watch.

When everyone else is gone I go to my window in my room, prop it open, sit on the ledge and watch the city. I want to sleep more, just to get away, but I can’t, even though I’m tired and the fact that I haven’t been able to sleep well lately. I just sit there and think that in a few hours, I’ll have to find something black to wear, go to a funeral home, watch people cry over my dad, ride behind him in family car and go see his coffin sitting on a green hill while they lower him and a priest talks. I don’t want to do it, but I have to.

Suddenly I can’t breathe, and I just hold myself against the wall.

He’s dead. He’s just dead. I don’t care what he did to me. He was my dad. He didn’t mean any of what he did. I was supposed to take care of him. He died and I had broken his heart just before it happened. I’m the worst son in the world. I killed my dad.

Did I? I wonder, and pull out my phone to call my Aunt, even though it’s relatively late.

“Hello?” she asks, sounding very awake, and slightly busy. I’m glad I didn’t wake her up, but apparently I’m interrupting her, since I hear papers being shuffled.

“Hey, Aunt Carol,” I say, moving from the windowsill and onto the carpet.

“Ainsley,” she says, and the papers stop rustling, “Hi. How may I help you?”

“Oh,” I say, “Uh, I was wondering… If the doctors knew… If I was a match…”

“Honey,” she says and I hear her shut her computer.

“I just need to know,” I say quickly, “Do you know?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“Yes you know?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, “You were a match.”

“Okay,” I say after a long pause, “Well, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says, “I really mean that.”

“I do too,” I reply, “Bye.”

“Goodbye,” she says, and I hang up the phone.

I really just can’t breathe. I lie back on the floor, and feel the cool night air flow in over me, making me shiver, and gasp for oxygen. I curl up on my side, and hold my face.

He was too sick to decide something like that for himself. I shouldn’t have let him make that decision when he was on so many medications. I could have saved him.

Could haves don’t matter.

What matters is that I killed him. I killed my dad.

When I finally get around to getting up, the sun’s already risen, and I haven’t moved from my spot on the floor. I’ve just been thinking all night.

I stand up tiredly, and rub my eyes, before going to my clothes and grabbing black jeans and the only suit jacket I own, before reaching into the bag and looking for a tie and a shirt.

It’s only now that I realize that I haven’t showered in days. I groan, look at my phone for the time, and sigh. I only have fifteen minutes until the funeral starts. I should be ready by now. It’s already past nine in the morning. I change my clothes and go see what I can do about my hair. Nothing. It’s awful. I go find a hat, and call it a day.

I get a text message from Talia, telling me that they’re all there, waiting for me. I flip my phone shut, slip on my shoes, and lock the door on the way out.

I sit silently next to my Aunt, as the car drives us to the graveyard. I hate funerals. My dad didn’t look like himself, but at least he didn’t look yellow and bruised and tired.

Hadley and the twins are in the back, only riding with us because they didn’t have a ride to the graveyard, and my aunt wanted to spare the public transportation system and any people we know from having to ride them there and back. Talia and Tayler aren’t arguing for once, and I have a sudden urge to jump back there and kiss them both. They’re being nice to each other for me.

We continue down the road, cars stopping for us and all that great stuff, until we get a bit further out of town and finally reach the graveyard. I get out, and stand, staring, at the grass spread before me, with the edging of tall trees along the borders of the graveyard. I shiver when Talia’s arm goes around me, and shrug her off. I don’t look at her.

We walk up the hill, my aunt leading, and are followed by the rest of the people who came for the service. A few people slap my shoulders and ask if I’m okay. I nod to everyone.

“Ainsley,” someone says. I turn and smile weakly at Hank, who looks sadder than I do right now. I’m faking it.

“Hey, Hank,” I say, and I let him hug me.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, and I hear that he is. He sounds so disappointed in himself, and I hug him back.

“It’s okay,” I say, and he gives me a look. I’m not supposed to comfort him, but I will anyways. He nods after a moment, and heads off into the group, where he joins a woman I’ve met once or twice, his girlfriend. They hold hands and I look away. Hadley keeps glancing at me as we approach the front of the group. I stare at the casket.

I don’t know what I want, but I don’t want this.