The Secret 02 The Forever of Ella and Micha (24 page)

His forehead furrows as he scratches the back of his neck. “Why are you acting funny?”

“I’m not.” I bend my arm out of his grip. “I just don’t like that you’re drunk.”

“Why? I’ve been drunk plenty of times.”

“I know and that’s the problem.” I bite down on my tongue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

His eyes burn with rage. “You get drunk just as much as I do.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true.”

“It’s completely true,” he snaps and the loudness of his voice causes me to jump. “You drink as much as I do, whether it’s for fun or because you’re trying to bury something. It’s what we’ve all been doing since we were fourteen.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this,” Ethan argues, climbing off the hood. “I cleaned up my shit.”

“No, you didn’t.” Micha trips over the laces of his boots and slams into one of the shelves, knocking tools and car parts to the ground. Lila’s eyes bulge as she hangs up her phone. “You still drink when you feel like shutting down—all of us do.”

A silent moment builds around us as our breath fogs out and we take in the realization that he’s right. We all started drinking around the age of fourteen. It began as curiosity, but the older we got, the more we used it as an escape from the reality of our lives.

“Well, I’m done,” I finally say, surrendering up my hands as I back toward the door.

“I’m done with you too!” he yells, red faced. “I’m sick of your fucking mind games and problems. I’m sick of it and I want out.”

My hands fall lifelessly to my side. “I meant I was done with drinking, but it’s nice to know where you stand.”

“Ella, he didn’t mean that. He’s just drunk, so stop acting crazy and get over it,” Ethan interrupts, shaking his head at Micha. “You better get your shit together right now, man.”

Micha glares at Ethan. “Stay out of this.” He turns back to me, but I’m already out the door.

He doesn’t follow me as I run down the street. The wind blows in my hair and stings at my cheeks as I try to flee from the hurt and pain, but anxiety nips at my heels.

Micha has never gotten that mad at me. Ever. It’s like a knife to the heart and I don’t know how to pull it out. It hurts everywhere.

When I reach the corner, I slow down and try to regain control of my thoughts. I take my phone out of my pocket and dial Anna’s number.

She answers after four rings and a piano plays in the background. “Hello.”

“Hi, Anna, this is Ella.” I feel bad for calling her when it’s obvious she’s with her family.

After a few seconds I hear a door close and the noise quiets. “What’s wrong?”

I stare up at the graffiti on the street sign. “I did something you told me not to do… I confronted Micha about his drinking problem.”

“And what happened?”

“He said some… stuff.”

She pauses. “What kind of stuff? Hurtful stuff?”

“Lots of stuff. And yes, it hurts.” I press my hand to my aching heart as I hunch over. “Really bad.”

“And what does the pain make you want to do?” she asks as a car drives by and splashes slush up from the street. “Ella, where are you?”

“I’m standing on the corner of the street and all I want to do is run,” I admit. “I want to cry… I want to scream.”

“So scream,” she encourages. “Go ahead. Let it all out.”

“But I’m on the street.” I glance up the road at an older couple walking down the sidewalk. “And there are people around.”

“So what?” she says. “Don’t worry about them. Just let it all out—let the worry and pain go. Don’t hold it in, Ella. We’ve talk about that.”

Feeling like an idiot, I open my mouth and let out a quiet scream.

“You can do better than that,” she insists. “Really scream, Ella.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I give it all I got, letting it all out, and it echoes for miles.

After I clear the congestion out of my chest, I walk down the road toward Cherry Hill where the cemetery is located, thinking about the people I’ve lost. My mom and Grady, both were taken out of my life way too early.

A crisp layer of snow coats the tombstones and trees, the grass is buried, and icicles hang from the fence. Walking up to the leafless tree in front of my mother’s grave, my shoes fill with snow and my nose turns pink. I bend down and brush a bunch of snow from the top of her grave.

I read out loud the words that are far too simple to sum her up. “Maralynn Daniels, loving mother and wife.” There was no mention of her struggle or how she got dealt a shitty hand at life.

My thoughts drift back to a conversation she and I had when I was about fifteen. We were watching television, although she was dazing off a lot and not paying attention.

“Why do you think I’m this way?” she asked abruptly with a contemplative look on her face.

I turned the volume of the television down. “What do you mean, Mom?”

She stared at the wall as if it had held the answers to life. “Why can’t I escape the dark thoughts, like everyone else? Why can’t I think the same as everyone?”

I racked my brain for a good answer to give her. “I don’t think everyone thinks the same, Mom. Everyone’s different.”

“Yeah, but why do some people get it easy?” She looked at me and her green eyes were huge, like she was hypnotized. “They just walk through life without problems.”

I let out a slow breath, knowing my words were going to be important to her. “Everyone has their problems, Mom. It’s just that some people’s are harder.” I inched toward her and the fear in her eyes began to subside. “I think the people who go through more can end up stronger in the long run. They have insight in to what a lot of people don’t have and a better understanding—they can be more open-minded.”

The corners of her mouth tipped upward and she gave me a rare smile. “You’re a smart girl, Ella May, and I believe that one day you’ll grow up to do great things… I really hope you do.”

The knots in my stomach began to unwind. I’d said the right thing and she was relaxed and happy, which had been my goal. I thought I’d made an impact on her, but it turned out I was wrong.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whisper to her grave. “I really am… Sometimes I feel like I owe you my happiness.”

The wind rustles around me, whispering through my hair. I sit down in front of the tombstone and sit with her grave in silence, promising myself I’ll come back and visit often, vowing she won’t be forgotten.

I don’t see Micha for the rest of the night. I sleep in the same room with Lila and then sneak out of the house before Micha wakes up from his drunken stupor. I’m not really mad at him anymore for drinking. What he said was true. We all do it to hide our pain and we all need to stop. But his harsh words still haunt me.

Lila and I go out to my garage and I start up my dad’s Firebird so we can go get some lunch. My dad keeps a spare key under the visor, but the car’s been sitting for so long that it takes forever to start. Finally I get the engine to roar to life and then let it run for a while as I tromp through the snow looking for a way to get into the house.

Lila follows me, zipping up her coat, and then she slips on her gloves. “It is so cold here.”

“I know.” I peer up at the frosted window of the kitchen, noticing that it’s not completely shut. “Well, I think I found our way in, although it’s going to be equally as cold in there since the damn window’s probably been open for months.”

I step back from the window and my phone beeps from inside my pocket, alerting me that I have a text message.

I hesitate then text back.

“Who is it?” Lila peers over my shoulder at the screen and her nose scrunches. “Oh my God, is he seriously texting you?”

I sigh, locking the screen so it shuts off. “I told him he could.”

Lila
tsks
me with a wave of her finger. “El, I’m warning you now to back off this supposed friendship with that guy. You’re only going to end up in a mess.”

“It is just a friendship.” I move away from the window and toward the car. “And besides, you encouraged it once so you could get a ride from him.”

“And I regret it.” She follows after me, slipping on the ice a few times. “I saw him talking to you at the gas station and there was nothing but lust in his eyes… and now he doesn’t even have a girlfriend so there’s nothing stopping him.”

“You know, I’m regretting telling you that,” I say. “And it doesn’t matter anyway. Even if he did like me I would never do anything with him.”

She grabs my arm and forces me to look at her. “Walk away from this right now. Blake is hot and you two have that whole art thing going on. You may not think anything could happen, but sometimes stuff just does. Trust me.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” I ask as my phone beeps with another text message.

“I’ve had plenty of experiences with this crap,” Lila continues, letting go of my arm. “I’ve had many guys
accidently
get caught up in the moment and
slip up
. And I know plenty of girls who have done it too. And you’re so lucky, Ella. You really are. Please, for the sake of all women, just get away from Blake and focus on the beautiful relationship you have in front of you.”

“After what happened yesterday, you still think it’s beautiful?” I ask doubtfully.

“You two fighting makes it more beautiful.” She sighs and her breath fogs out. “I also know that right now you’re mad and the last thing you want to be doing is texting some guy who has a crush on you. You might do something stupid.”

“I’m not mad at Micha. Just upset with… stuff.”

“Same difference.”

Sighing, I text Blake back.

He doesn’t respond and Lila and I get into the car with the heater blasting at our faces. I don’t really care whether Blake texts me back or not. He was a nice friend, but that was it. My thoughts revolve around a much bigger issue: when I face Micha and tell him it’s over.

Something wet hits me in the face and I jump up with my fist raised in front of me.

“Settle the fuck down.” Ethan stands over me with a cup in his hand. “It’s just water.”

I wipe my face with the sleeve of my shirt. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He sets the cup down on top of my dresser. “Well, you’ve been asleep for about fourteen hours and so I thought I’d make sure you were still alive.”

Clutching my throbbing head, I check the time on the clock mounted on my wall beside the window. It’s early morning and snow flutters outside.

“What happened?” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, preparing to get up, but a bitter taste in my throat forces me to lie back down.

“Well, you drank practically all the alcohol in the house,” Ethan says, crossing his arms. “And then you ruined your relationship with almost everyone you know, besides me, but that’s because I don’t give a shit.”

I rake my hand through my hair and roll to my side. “What about Ella?”

“That one is probably the worst.” He messes with an alarm clock on my nightstand, rotating the nob on the back.

I turn back around. “Why? What’d I say?”

He makes air quotes and says, “ ‘I’m sick of your fucking mind games and problems.’ ”

I drape my arm across my face as I shake my head. “God damn it. What was I thinking… God fucking damn it!” I punch the headboard and then wince when my knuckles pop.

He props the clock up beside the lamp. “You were drunk, which was the reason the fight started. Ella doesn’t want you drinking so much anymore and I have to agree with her. Yes, we all drink, but it seems like you do it more as a coping mechanism than the rest of us. In fact, you’ve kind of been doing it a lot lately.”