This Is How I Disappear

“You didn’t kill her, Frank. The drunk driver did”

“I was driving the car, I wasn’t careful enough”

“Look, don’t blame yourself, or else I’m going to start blame you. And I really don’t want to do that, because you’re the only one who understands. Okay?” I nodded in response.

“Now, can we please get some sleep?”

“Sure”

But I couldn’t sleep that night. Gerard slept like a baby, but something was keeping me up. Helena. I could see her smile and those perfect, green eyes sparkle, her shiny hair and tiny body. I could feel her lips colliding with mine, and even though she wasn’t really there I could even smell her perfume.

I had gone through that night a hundred times in my head. What I could’ve done differently and that she’d still be here if I didn’t insist on taking her out on a date. She would be the one sleeping next to me in my bed. Her face would be the first thing I saw when I woke up the next day. But instead she’s in a graveyard, her eyes will never sparkle again, I will never see her smile, I’ll never get to stroke her dark hair, I’ll never get to feel her soft lips against mine, I’ll never be close to Helena again. Ever.
When Gerard woke up the next day I was already in the kitchen making breakfast, I had to focus on something else than Helena’s death. If I was gay I’d probably drag him into the bedroom again, he looked kind of hot in the morning, and I’m not afraid to admit it.

“Good morning” He yawned.

“Good morning. Hungry?”

“Starving”

We sat down at the broken kitchen table and ate our breakfast in silence. I didn’t really know how to act around him; it was sort of weird without Helena. I mean, I’ve visited him a few times through the past three years, and I’ve stayed the night… Just not in the same bed as him.

“So what are we doing today?” He asked when he finished his breakfast.

“I don’t know, buying you a bed?”

“Sounds good, let’s get going!”

I was surprised how casual he was. I thought he’d been demanding me to buy him a bottle of Vodka and insist on staying in my apartment to get drunk; drown his misery in alcohol. But instead he got dressed, brushed his teeth and dragged me out the door.

“Have you been seeing anybody since Helena died?” He asked me while we were walking down the street to the nearest furniture store.

“No, I haven’t”

“Why?”

“It just doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to betray her”

“Betray her? She’s gone, Frankie. She would want you to move on”

“What about you? Would she want you do become an alcoholic?”

“It’s not the same thing, Frank. She was my sister, not my girlfriend”

“Oh, just shut up, would you? It doesn’t work like that”

“And I’m not an alcoholic”

“You’re not? Well, what do you call a guy who’s been drinking a whole bottle of Vodka every single day for three years just because he feels sorry for himself then?”

He didn’t reply, he just looked at me. He knew I was right, and he knew he had to change, but I guess he just didn’t know how.