Hurtful Words

I woke up early the next morning after I’d hardly slept at all. I left the apartment while Max and Ronnie were still asleep. I didn’t want to deal with either of them. I went downstairs and across the street to the café there for breakfast before hailing a cab to my Mom’s place. It was eight o’clock by the time the cab pulled up to her house. I wasn’t sure if she’d be up yet, or if she’d even be home, when I knocked on the door. But sure enough, she answered the door just as the cab driver pulled away from the curb. “Lindsey,” she greeted happily, “What are you doing here?” I tucked my hair behind my ears.
“I, uh, I don’t really know,” I mumbled pulling my coat tighter around me.
“Well, come in,” she urged, stepping out of the way of the door, “you’ll catch a cold if you hang about on this doorstep much longer.” I nodded and followed her into the house, hanging up my coat as I went. The air inside the house was much warmer than the bitter wind outside, and I rubbed my hands together slightly to heat my fingers, pink with cold.
“Mom?” I called as I walked through to the kitchen.
“In here, sweetheart,” she replied and I smiled as I noticed her bent over the stove, checking something she was baking. I helped myself to a glass of juice and sat on the tall wooden stool by the bench. “So,” she sighed, wiping her hands clean on a dishcloth, “what are you really doing here?” I shrugged and she smirked at me. “Don’t give me that, Lindsey Paige,” she said and pointed an accusing finger at me, “you’re a terrible liar.”
“I don’t know, Mom,” I replied, tying my long, dark hair back off my face, “I’ve really messed up.”
“Messed what up?”
“I just,” I began to say, choosing my words carefully. I didn’t exactly want to tell my Mom I’d screwed up my friendship with one roommate because I’d slept with another. “I just did something I shouldn’t have,” I said finally, walking past her and putting my glass in the sink. “Now Max hates me, Ashlin hates me. I don’t know what to do.” My mother scoffed.
“Oh, sweetheart. Max couldn’t hate you if he tried,” she laughed, “As for Ashlin, everything will work itself out eventually.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“If it doesn’t,” my Mom sighed, giving me a small, sad smile, “then it wasn’t meant to be.” I laughed quietly at her answer and shook my head. “Now, come on,” she said brightly, “there’s no use sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself. You can help me pack.”
“When do you move?” I asked casually, following her to the back room. She passed me two large cardboard boxes, folded flat. She’d had an offer on the house only a couple of weeks ago.
“Well, I have to be out by the 26th but I should have everything packed in a couple of days.” I nodded.
“What do you need help with?” I asked as we walked to the front of the house and stood by the bottom of the stairs. She turned around quickly and looked at me, her smile faltered.
“I still need to pack Dane’s things,” she said softly. I swallowed hard. It had almost been five and a half years since Dane’s passing. Apparently time heals all wounds. But time hadn’t healed anything for me and still, even to this day, whenever my brother happened to cross my mind, my chest would begin to ache and my eyes would cloud with tears. “Forget I said anything,” my mother muttered, waving me off, “I’ll do it some other time.” I placed a hand lightly on her forearm to stop her rambling.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes glazed over with tears. I nodded slowly.
“Okay.”

It took us almost three hours to pack away Dane’s room. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, but it wasn’t easy either. I tried not to cry, it would have only made it harder for my Mom, but when I found the shoebox of photographs Dane had I couldn’t help it.
“Keep them,” my mother said softly.
“Are you sure?” She nodded and passed the box back to me.
“I don’t think I could look at them again.” The tears continued to fall until my Mom found a collection of magazines at the bottom of Dane’s wardrobe that she didn’t seem too impressed by and I couldn’t help but roll around on Dane’s bed with laughter.
“Well, I know where these can go,” she said and dropped them into the small wastebasket by Dane’s wardrobe. But I knew she wouldn’t really be able to throw the dirty magazines away and they, just like the wastebasket they were in, would be packed away into boxes with the rest of his things and kept forever.

It was almost half past three when we’d finally packed all of Dane’s things away and my Mom walked me to the cab that was waiting outside for me. I opened the door and sat the box of photographs along with a couple of other things my Mom had told me to take with me on the seat inside. I wiped my eyes as I stood beside her and we looked back up at the house. “Goodbye, house,” she said quietly. I laughed softly and looked over at her. She was smiling but a few tears had fallen down her cheeks leaving wavering silvery streaks behind them as they went.
“Goodbye, house,” I sighed before hugging my Mom and telling her that I expected a dinner invite as soon as she’d moved. She laughed and kissed my cheek before I climbed into the cab, waving to her as the driver pulled out into the street and the house that I’d grown up in became a small, grey speck at the end of the street.

I got back to the apartment, unlocking the door and setting Dane’s things down on the table in the kitchen. “Hey,” I said softly when I noticed Max sitting on the sofa. He ignored me as he walked past to the refrigerator. “Max, I said I was sorry,” I groaned but he still wouldn’t reply. “Please, Max,” I begged, “Don’t do this to me.”
“Do this to you?” he asked sharply as he turned around, “I haven’t done anything to you. You did this to yourself.”
“Max, don’t-.”
“And you know what? I’m sick of having to look out for you, Lindsey,” he said finally.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“But you are, Linds. Every time you go back to Ronnie, you’re asking for it,” he told me desperately.
“I’m sorry,” I replied. He shook his head.
“Just,” he began to say, holding his hand up, “just talk to Ashlin. You owe him that much.” I nodded slowly and handed him the t-shirt I’d brought home with me. “What’s this?” he asked.
“I was at my Mom’s. We were packing up Dane’s things when we found. She said you should have it,” I told him. It was an old Iron Maiden shirt. Max had the same one. They’d bought them together back when they were still in high school. Max hadn’t worn his since the funeral. “You’re not mad at me, are you Max?” I asked carefully as he sat by the table. He shook his head, staring down at the shirt in his hands, and gave a quiet laugh.
“I can’t get mad at you,” he replied, “I never could.” I smiled as I sat beside him. “You know, Ronnie and I always liked the same girls,” he said quietly. I was about to ask him what he meant when he frowned. “Go talk to Ashlin, Lindsey,” he told me, “He’s a good guy.” I nodded thoughtfully and got up from the table.
“You’re right,” I said, “you’re totally right.” Before he had a chance to say anything else I was out the apartment door.

I was standing in front of Evan and Ashlin’s apartment building soon after. I took the lift to the nineteenth floor and stormed into their apartment not even bothering to knock. “Ashlin?” I called, searching each room for him.
“Lindsey, what are you doing here?” he asked in surprise. I turned around to face him.
“I needed to see you,” I replied, taking a step toward him.
“Listen, Lindsey,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m really sorry for what I said the other night. It wasn’t my place and I shou-.” I cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips.
“Don’t,” I said, “Don’t worry about it.”
“But Lindsey, I-.” I silenced him again, but this time with a kiss. He was surprised at first but it didn’t take him long to respond. I quickly began to unbutton his shirt and he stumbled backward to the guest room. Something told me what I was doing was wrong, that it wouldn’t help. But I didn’t care. At that moment all I needed was something, anything, to ease the guilt.

I lay amongst the soft white sheets once it was all over, Ashlin placing soft kisses along my bare shoulder. “You’re amazing,” he said quietly, “you know that?” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat but it wouldn’t go away.
“I have to go,” I mumbled sitting up and grabbing my clothes from the bedroom floor. I quickly pulled my shirt over my head and put my jeans on, scanning the room for my shoes.
“What?” Ashlin asked, panicked.
“I’m sorry,” I said and went for the door.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked, quickly pulling on his boxer shorts and following me through the apartment.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated and reached for the door handle. Ashlin grabbed my hand, holding it in his softly.
“Lindsey,” he pleaded and I forced myself to look up into his eyes, “don’t leave me again.” I ran my tongue over my chapped lips.
“Bye Ashlin,” I said and left the apartment just as quickly as I’d entered it.

When I got home, Max was gone. I made a cup of tea and sat by the table. It was almost an hour later when Ronnie came through the door. I groaned and set my empty cup in the sink, not wanting to speak with him. “Why do you keep going back to him?” he asked desperately.
“Don’t do this, Ronnie,” I replied, closing my eyes tight and shaking my head.
“Lindsey,” he said as I tried to walk away. He gripped my arm tightly.
“Ronnie,” I begged, trying to squirm from his grip, but he ignored him.
“Why do you keep going back to him?” he repeated. Anger rose in my throat and chest and I tried to rid my eyes of the tears that were quickly forming.
“Lindsey,” he prodded, shaking my arm.
“It only seems like I keep going back to him because I keep coming back to you!” I cried. Ronnie dropped my arm.
“What?” he asked in disbelief, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means,” I snapped, wiping my eyes, “The only time you’ve ever showed any interest me, you’ve been drunk or high…or both! I’m sick of it!” I noticed the hurt expression on Ronnie’s face but I couldn’t help myself. “I can’t do this anymore, Ronnie,” I told him quietly.
“Why not?” he asked sounding like an indignant four-year-old. I shook my head, frustrated with him for not understanding.
“Because!” I groaned. He didn’t say anything for a moment before he looked up at me again, a small smile playing on his lips.
“I love you,” he said. I rolled my eyes.
“Oh please,” I muttered.
“What?”
“You don’t mean that,” I said and tried to push past him but he stopped me.
“I do,” he replied firmly, “I’ve never meant anything more.” I buried my head in my hands and Ronnie stepped toward me, holding my shoulders gently.
“Just let me go,” I begged, leaning my head against his chest, “Please let me go.” My tears soaked through his shirt as he shook his head.
“I can’t, Lindsey,” he told me hoarsely, “I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried, but I can’t.” I looked up at him, my eyes pleading with him to crack a smile, to laugh, anything that would tell me he wasn’t serious. But there was nothing. Nothing but his almond-shaped eyes looking into mine, filled with something I’d never seen before, not from him, at least. And it made my stomach drop. Honesty.