I Wish You Would Step Back From That Ledge, My Friend...

Sophie’s palms pressed down into her sheets with as much force as she could muster, helping her pull herself into a half sitting position. She’d been in the middle of something that was supposed to resemble a dream but felt more like a nightmare. Her hand rose to her forehead to push her bangs out of her eyes and wipe the sweat from her brow. Her clothes were discarded, heaped into a pile beside her bed so she could easily slip back into them when she made her way to the bathroom in the morning. Despite being entirely naked, there was no one else in her bed and there hadn’t been when she’d gone to sleep either; no one night stand sneaking out in the middle of the night. Her bed hadn’t been shared in months.

She reached to the foot of the bed searching for a sundress to pull over her head, just to have something covering her. The lightweight embroidered cotton dress was comfortable and her favorite piece of clothing by far, at least for the time being. The fabric was lose around the waist allowing her to hide the weight she’d put on while sulking around her room and neglecting her exercise routine, but it was tighter around the bust, accentuating her curves in a good way. The hem would reach somewhere between mid-thigh and her knee cap when she stood, making her legs look even longer than they already were. The dress was perfect. The dress was bound to give her some nightmare or another.

There was one spot on the side of the dress, and it was nearly invisible to anyone else, where the embroidery was slightly discolored. The artsy lines of stitching had a darker tint than that rest of the embroidery and the white cotton surrounding it was really more of an off white. It was the only spot on the dress that really hadn’t come clean, but then again it may have been the only area that was really affected, for as hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember that day clearly.

Clutching the fabric of the dress with one hand and the Egyptian cotton sheet with the other, she sighed loudly. Her eyes darted to the clock and widened at the sight of the time. It was four fifty-six in the morning and she should have woken up about an hour ago. She was going to be late; there was absolutely no way she would make it before sunrise—even if she did double the speed limit.

Sophie dropped the fabric of the dress from her hands and reached up to her hair, playing with the lose strands falling from the bun atop her head. She didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t missed a morning yet and today seemed like a terrible time to start. But if she showed up late, it wouldn’t be the same; it wouldn’t be sunrise.

She kicked the sheets off of her legs and dragged herself out of bed. She stepped out of her room, her sweaty feet squeaking lightly and sticking to the shiny wooden floors of the hallway. Counting each as she went, she padded down the thirteen stairs and into the foyer. She checked the clock and quickly looked to her keys, gnawing on her lip as she did so. Technically, if she really wanted to, she could make it, but even then it was cutting it too close and it would be ridiculously dangerous flying down the highway somewhere around ninety miles an hour—especially when forty-five seemed like speeding to her.

The lights were out in the family room to her right and the door to her father’s office was closed tightly. The den remained dormant, and the dining room on her left silent as well. She took a deep breath strolling past the dining room to the kitchen. The first thing she noticed was that the coffee maker was turned on like someone had been waiting for her or expecting her or something. It took a moment of her staring softly and seemingly aimlessly at the small appliance before anyone cleared their throat.

At the noise she jumped, nearly reaching the ceiling. The person sitting on the stool at the island counter let out a small laugh, almost resembling a grim sounding chuckle. Her eyes darted to the boy quickly, sighing with relief and disappointment.

“What’re you doing here, Gar?” she whispered groggily whist twirling a clump of her bangs together and tucking them behind her ear. “Don’t you know what time it is? Don’t you have a house of your own?” He laughed again, shrugging and gesturing for her to take a seat next to him at the counter. “You made me coffee?” He nodded, smiling at himself and nearly grinning when a small smile etched itself onto her lips. “Thanks.”

“No problem, anytime.” She shuffled quietly over to the seat, a light blush covering her cheeks. She slid onto the stool without pulling it out from the counter and she lifted the lavender mug to her lips, downing a good portion of the brown liquid in a single gulp.

As she held her coffee mug between her hands and he lifted his own to his mouth, a comfortable silence ensued between them, something almost familiar about it. “How’re you holdin’ up?” Garrett asked gently, griping his beverage between both palms the same way she was. In reply he received a shrug, and he should have known better than to expect much more of a response anyway. “You know I’m always here to talk, right?” She nodded, only to show some form of acknowledgement, because she didn’t want to respond in any way, shape or form. “Alright.”

His gaze moved from the coffee cup to her profile. He knew that she wouldn’t open up and that was driving him crazy. Sophie hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks, offering nothing more than hellos, goodbyes, yeses, nos, thank yous, your welcomes, pleases, nods and shrugs. Listing it, it seemed like Garrett could say that she had communicated, but when you know someone is in pain, those things don’t matter. Those simple words are simple and meaningless. They were hollow phrases that were just said as a natural, respectable response. “Soph?” he whispered.

She turned to face him, her eyebrows raised and arched to acknowledge him. He noted how sunken in her eyes seemed, not in a depressed way, but in a way that told him that she really hadn’t been sleeping much. The gold flecks in her eyes hardly sparkled. Her skin was pale, not sun kissed like it had been months before. Her lips were chapped and there were places where she’d gnawed enough to remove skin for it to start bleeding. Sophie wasn’t the same anymore—Pat was right. “Soph,” a sigh escaped his lips against his will, “when’re you gonna talk to one of us, huh? When are you going to realize you’re not alone?”

She lifted the coffee mug to her lips, taking a sip of the hot liquid to buy her more time to formulate a response. It was no secret that Garrett was staring at her—she could feel his eyes on her and he knew it. She could feel him watching the timid way she held the mug and how her lips curled around the rim. He watched the way her lips pulled into a straight line when she moved the cup away; the way the parted when she opened her mouth to speak. “There’s nothing to talk about, Garrett.” She placed the mug on the counter, turning slowly to meet his eyes once again.

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “I know you do this every morning. You get up before sunrise and you go all the way up to…” He couldn’t find it in him to say it. He should just respect that she didn’t want to talk. “Your family is worried, Soph. So am I, so are the rest of the guys. Pat keeps telling us how worried he is that you’ll do the same thing, and he’s afraid of losing you. And Tim doesn’t even have to say anything because you can just see the pain. Sophie, they know you aren’t okay.” He reached over, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“But I am okay, Garrett, you need to believe me when I say it. If you do, then Pat will catch on and then Tim and maybe my parents too.” She offered him a forced smile, her lips pulled back and up across her teeth. His eyes stayed locked with hers for a moment before he forced his gaze away from her and on to anything else.

“You’re a terrible liar.” She laughed lightly, raising a hand to her shoulder and placing her palm over the top of his hand. “I can’t lie for you, Sophie. It’s not right. We all see right through your façade.” She knew that his loyalty was to her brother and not to her, but she needed that to change for the time being.

“Please? Garrett. God,” she sighed, hoping she could push back the tears pricking the corners of her eyes and praying that the dull, faintly throbbing pain in her head would go away. “If you make them believe I’m okay, I’ll tell you everything. It won’t be right away, but I’ll tell you when I’m ready. I just…” She stopped speaking and looked up from her lap when he lifted her chin. His finger trailed from her chin and up to her lips, covering them and shushing her.

Her tears were leaking slowly from her eyes and he was almost certain she was unaware of it. “I promise I’ll try,” he whispered softly. “I understand that you’re not ready. I understand, okay?” She nodded, a sob escaping her throat, her hand flying to her mouth to silence it. “Come here,” he whispered gently, offering her his embrace and his shoulder to cry on. She seemed apprehensive at first, slowly leaning into his arms, her head resting on the shoulder of his flannel shirt, and her tears being soaked up by the fabric.

He continued to shush her, rubbing her back and letting her hold onto him. She turned, breathing into the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. “He’s gone, Garrett, he’s really gone,” Sophie gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as Garrett rested his head on top of hers. “He’s gone,” she breathed desperately.