Page 4 of Needed You

With a deep sigh, I head downstairs into the kitchen to get coffee started. I’m gonna need it to force myself to get through the day. I can’t seem to get out of this vicious loop I’m in, waking up late, doing some work, and then escaping one way or another—smoking pot, drinking, or getting laid—before crashing back in bed and having it start all over again. I’m lucky that I like my job because it’s the only thing outside of getting high and hooking up that makes me feel anything. Part of me died the day Nate did, and I’ve had a hard time coming back from that.

I force myself to eat a granola bar while the coffee brews, and I find myself staring at the empty living room. I bet there’s a shit ton of dust in there, and I know my mom would bitch about it . . . if she ever bothered to use it again. But the house is empty and quiet, as it always is now. It’s been this way for the last eight years, really. Neither of my parents can stand to be here, like they need to avoid the gloom that’s settled over the house, so I’m left here alone.

My mom is always gone on some retreat or self-healing seminar, and I never know when she’s going to be home or when she’s going to be gone. And my dad . . . well, he just works all the time. It didn’t start immediately, but looking back on it, I can see the progression more clearly now. He started staying longer and longer at the office, working more hours, working weekends. Then, he started missing family dinners. Eventually he just took to sleeping at his office. He’d text or call me occasionally to check in. Both of them slowly pulled away further and further, until I felt completely abandoned and alone. By Nate’s one-year deathiversary, I realized I didn’t just lose my brother. I lost my parents, too.

It hurt so much, especially when I was also still grieving and needed them to help me through it. I needed therapy and support, warm hugs, some basic acknowledgement that I was young and didn’t know how to cope with the loss. But they gave me none of that, and they basically disappeared from my life and left me to fend for myself.

I let out a frustrated sigh and then take my coffee upstairs, passing by the closed door to Nate’s room on my way to my own bedroom. I set my mug down on the corner of my desk and plop into the chair. As I stare out the window into the backyard, where the pool sits unused, its cover littered with the first of the fall leaves, I wonder for the hundredth time if I put my desk here to torture myself with the sight. I know it’s definitely the reason I haven’t tried to get an apartment of my own all these years. It’s sick and twisted, probably, but I need it.

That pool—that’s where Nate and his friends would hang out every day in the summer, swimming or goofing off. I have so many memories here and with this house, and I just can’t see giving them up.

I close my eyes and let myself go for a moment. Back to those summers and back to when my older brother was still alive. I looked up to him and his friends so much. The Wolf Pack, they called themselves. Lev, Chris, Caleb, Nolan, Garrett, and my brother, Nate. I so desperately wanted to be like him, to hang out with them, to be one of the Pack. But being three years younger made for a big gap in maturity. Nate was usually nice and would let me hang with them off and on, or at least until the booze and weed came out. Then he’d send me away, like he was protecting me from that part of his life.

I idolized him and the Pack, but Nate’s best friend, Lev, was always my favorite. He always treated me like I was a friend, was never condescending, and stuck up for me when Nate was being an ass. He truly was Nate’s other half, and I really don’t remember a time when Lev wasn’t around. He was also a good-looking dude. Very good-looking. I may or may not have had a crush on him back in the day.

But I haven’t seen him for a long time. Not since he turned tail and left us all in the dust—left me—like he’d never cared at all. Yeah, I know he struggled to even finish high school, getting drunk and high and whatever he had to do to numb the pain. Once he graduated, he couldn’t get out of town fast enough. Moved to Sheltonville because he blamed himself for Nate’s death or some shit. I don’t know how he doesn’t understand that what happened to Nate that night and leading up to it was my brother’s own stupid doing. He chose to get shit-faced. He chose to get in the car after the party. His actions caused him to wrap his car around a tree. He was a selfish fucking asshole for the decision he made, and I’m still pissed at him for it.

It changed everything.

It changed how everyone looks at me, how they treat me. Even to this day, Caleb—who was the wildest of the whole Pack if you ask me—is subdued and different around me. Every time he sees me, there’s guilt written all over his face, which sort of makes sense, at least, since his house was where they were all hanging out and getting messed up the night Nate died.

But that’s where I get angry again. No one needs to feel sorry for me. No one. Nate did something stupid, and it changed all of our lives. Nate did it. Not anyone else. I’m not a charity case, and I hate when people treat me like that.

Needing a distraction from the direction my thoughts are going, I pull out my phone and open up my texting app to send a quick message to my friend Ryan.

Me: Hey. What’s up for tonight?

I wait a few minutes, and he texts back.

Ryan: Party at Katie’s.

Me: Ha. You’ll be getting some then.

Ryan: Shut up. But yeah. I hear there may be something there for you, too.

Me: Not interested.

Ryan: Mmmmm. You’re due to have some action. Loosen up, baby.

Me: Fuck you.

Ryan: Nah, no thanks. I’ll be busy with Katie but . . . thanks?

Me: What time?

Ryan: Meet me at her place at 9.

Setting my phone back on the side table, I sigh. I really don’t want to go out, but I’ll make myself for a little while. If nothing else, I’ll get a little fucked up and come home to maybe get some sleep. Fuck knows I could use a good night’s sleep.

***

I work through the afternoon, grab a quick dinner, and actually manage to take a nap. By nine that night, I’m walking up to Katie’s house, reminded of why I hate parties like this. I’m dressed like I belong here, though, with my tight, ripped black jeans, a black leather jacket, chains hanging off my belt, and a lip ring that always gets me more attention than it should.

The loud music booming through the windows and door, the vibration of the bass when I turn the handle and step inside, the way the house smells like sweat, weed, and beer—it’s all too fucking much, even for me. Too many people are crammed into the living room, where the furniture’s all pushed aside to make space for a dance floor. Girls are grinding up on guys who look like they never miss a day at the gym and maybe work with three brain cells. Some couples are making out in the corners of the room, and conversations are happening all around. The music’s deep bass and shouts of voices from every direction make me shake my head to try to block out some of the noise. The sooner I socialize, the sooner I can get out of here and go home.

I walk into the kitchen to get myself a drink and look for Ryan, passing around people, excusing myself, and gently pushing bodies out of the way to make a path. As I enter, I see Ryan with his arm draped around Katie, beautiful in her white corset, skin-tight jeans, and heels. Ryan is completely and totally gone for her, and that’s good, because she’s pretty cool.

I walk to the counter, grab a red plastic cup, and fill it with what’s probably a dangerous mixture of several types of alcohol they have sitting out. Then I move across the room to join Ryan and Katie.