For the Rest of Our Lives

It's the first time I see Sally pick up a bottle of vodka, and take a long swig from it. My eyes widen. We're at her aunt's house, and her aunt is away working late at the hospital. This is the bottle Sally says she got from one of her older friends. She's pulled it out from a secret compartment in her dresser; an installment she made herself that her aunt has no idea exists.

"It's a great hiding place," Sally explains. We're sat on the floor by her dresser; the drawer she hides her vodka in still pulled out. I'm still processing that she's drinking alcohol. We're only in 10th grade. "I'm still surprised she hasn't found it, though. She loves to snoop through my things. I uh... I did some things. Before we moved back. We can talk about them another time."

"Okay," is all I can manage. I've found a spot on the floor to focus my wide-eyed gaze upon. I only look up when she nudges my knee with hers.

"Hey," she says quietly. "It's okay. I'll be fine. You wanna try some?" She holds the bottle out to me. My gaze freezes on it.

The heavy atmosphere Sally always seems to have around her almost compels me to at least try a sip. I stare at the bottle for so long that I think Sally finally sees that I'm not going to try it. She pulls the bottle back to herself, takes another sip, and then caps it. She puts it back in her hidden compartment and closes the drawer.

"Luna, I'm kind of jealous," she says. She holds onto her dresser to help haul herself up from the floor, and I watch her- still in my stunned state. Our gazes lock.

"Why?" I finally say. "Why are you jealous?"

"You've got-" she pauses, and then sighs. She turns to the mirror hanging above the dresser, leans into her dresser as she examines her reflection. "You've got the perfect family. The perfect life. Nothing bad ever happens to you."

My mouth opens slightly. The perfect family? The perfect life? I think about it. I have my own issues to face... but their magnitude pales in comparison with Sally's. There's so much more that's happened to her, in such quick succession. I look down at the floor, at my feet. I fold my hands in my lap.

"I guess," I finally reply. "Not in the way things have happened to you."

"I-" she stops. She turns back to me. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to- to, uh... Make your problems seem unimportant. I'm sorry. I just meant..."

"I know what you meant, Sally," I whisper. I look back up at her. The look on her face makes my insides twist a bit. "Don't feel bad. You've been through a lot. Come here."

I hold my arms out to her. Sally bites her lip, and then kneels on the floor before me so she can throw her arms around my shoulders. Her chin rests in the crook of my neck. I hold her tightly, pulling her as close as possible. I bury my own face in her neck and shoulder.

"Don't feel bad," I whisper again. "You don't have to apologize, either. I know exactly what you meant. If I could rewrite the past so that those things never happened to you, I would." Sally starts to shake a little, and finally lets out a sob. I tighten my hold around her.

We sit there like that for a while, holding onto each other. I feel tears silently trickle down my own cheeks. I think about how I wouldn't mind being the person that those things had happened to, if it meant that Sally would never have been made to experience them.