Chapter 34

I know it was you who died
But why do I feel like the ghost? 

~Nathaniel's Lyric Journal

"HAS ANYONE EVER TOLD YOU THAT YOU LOOK CONSTIPATED, COMPA?" Esteban asked over Facetime, watching me get out of bed. 

I gave him the middle finger. "Te ves borracho, cabrón," I muttered to myself, reminding myself that he looks like a drunk asshole. 

It's been five days since we have spoken to each other besides an occasional text. Since then, I have been moping around, playing music, and running to distract myself as much as I can. 

Somehow, Esteban looked worse than I did. His eyes were rimmed red and his hair was in a buzzcut rather than his slick hairstyle. The haggard look on his face, along with his crumpled clothes, made me look like I was having the best day of my life. 

"Cállate. I have a ranging headache at this moment. It's called a bad hangover, dick," he joked, laughing painfully. 

"That happens dude."

I saw his mouth twitch into a sympathetic smile. "How are you feeling, Nate?" 

I nodded slowly, though I felt awful inside. I rubbed my tired eyes. 

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

"Why do people ask me this? We both know I'm not," I muttered. I filled Esteban in on what happened in my life the past few months from Rose, to David, to Elise. Watching's Esteban's reaction to what happened reminded me that this wasn't normal. 

I couldn't sleep last night. I thought that I finally broke my insomnia before it made its strong return. If it was anything, it only came back with a stronger force. I managed to only fall asleep for a few silent moments out of pure exhaustion before my eyes forced themselves open.

I couldn't stop thinking about everything that happened. I debated whether to confide in Carlos what happened, but it was too much to process. There were so many questions that I wanted to figure out. Even if I had the answers, Esteban would have understand more than my own father, who was too busy working to see what I was a mess I was. I am pretty sure Carlos also was depressed himself, though he wouldn't confide no matter how many times I tried to make him open up since our conversation about Mom.

"You have my full attention, Nate," Esteban said softly. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" 

I thought about everything, trying to narrow it down to the most painful feelings I could put into words without rupturing my entire being. 

"Do you think it's possible to save someone?" I asked him. 

He paused for a moment before sighing. "I guess it depends on whether that person wants to save himself first," he responded carefully, watching my reaction. 

Did Elise want to be saved? 

No. She wanted to wait there, and I have been steamrolling her voice because I couldn't handle what she was doing. 

I was an ass to her. I knew I was a jerk in the car, but I knew if she kept it away, our relationship would've crumbled. It just festers until the foundation rots and collapses in itself.

Isn't that what is happening anyways? 

 We haven't spoken in a day, and it was driving me crazy. I wanted to text her to apologize for being an ass and proclaim I was wrong. That I just wanted her with me. That all I cared about was her safety. 

"Do...do you think it's possible to not feel alone?" I asked him this time, thinking about Elise leaning back on the tree drawing. 

He nodded his head immediately. "Of course. You are never alone, Nate." 

I shook my head, not realizing he thought I was asking about myself. "I wasn't talking about me-" 

"Sure you weren't," Esteban cut in, very obviously thinking it was me. "Nate. I really care for you but you haven't been speaking to anyone from New York this entire time. I know you have been ignoring texts, including Javier. I just wanted to say I want to make sure you are okay." 

Hearing that hit something in my heart because it was true. I look at the texts and they seem so fun, and I don't know how to pretend that I can also have fun when sometimes, all I wanted to do was lie there all day.

"I don't know how to stop feeling alone," I confessed to Esteban, finally saying what was something I have been feeling to myself since Mom died. I didn't even know I felt this way until I realized I haven't spoken to much of my family since being here, with the exception of David. 

"Do you have good people around you?" Esteban asked. I nodded. "Can you tell me who?" 

I listed my family to all my friends from New York. People I knew time and time again have been checking on me and know they got my back. 

"Well it sounds like you have a great support network," Esteban observed. "So if you feel alone...why aren't you using it?" 

I blinked at his question. It was simple, but I couldn't come up with an answer. It felt like no one understood what I was going through but they all lost her too. It felt like something warm whip through me for the first time in ages. Nothing like when I kissed Elise. It felt like a stain that was etched into my heart was slowly lifting. 

"I think you are right," I said a little more firmly.  "I'm sorry for not keeping in touch with you or anyone back in New York. It's just been a lot going on here. 

Esteban laughed. "No te preocupes.  You have a lot going on. Just know we are here for you. Have you considered maybe talking to someone about this? Maybe you just need someone to talk it out." 

I nodded, not thinking of it as a bad idea. "Of course. I'll talk to you soon, compa."

I hung up the phone and kicked my sheets off of me, feeling the blood rushing through my head. Talking to Esteban has lifted me, feeling a moment of clarity. 

Why aren't I using my support system?  I asked myself with annoyance, taking off my pajamas and pulling a fresh set of clothes from the chest. 

I had people who cared. I just need to reach to them. I said pulling up my shorts and pulled over my shirt. 

I'm going to call David and apologize. 

I went to grab my phone but accidentally knocked the notebook I keep to the ground. Not realizing it was next to the phone, I went to pick up the notebook that fell at an awkward angle, opening closer to the back of the page. 

I frowned when I noticed something sticking out of the corner of the notebook. I slowly picked up the notebook to see another piece of paper that was taped. 

"What the hell is this?" I muttered to myself.

It was a paper that was folded with my name written on the top in neat print. The paper was folded into a square and was vigorously taped around the edges. Whoever wanted me to see this wanted to make sure that it stayed in the notebook.

I slowly peeled off the letter, taking extra care to not rip the paper. After a few painstaking minutes, I opened the letter to seeing the neat, familiar penmanship written neatly starting from the top that made my heart stop.

My Dearest Nathaniel,

I am writing a letter to you because I know that you are the one who is going to find me, and for that, I am-

I immediately got up and opened the nearest drawer to shove the paper in it before slamming it shut.

I felt bile at the back of my throat. 

She wrote a fucking suicide letter?

I started to breath heavily before it stopped altogether. I couldn't breath anymore. It all came coming back. All the memories came flooding back

***

The first thing I saw was glass.

I jerked my foot away, brushing off the glass scattered on the floor. The apartment was too quiet. The only thing I saw was the light spilling from the bathroom door.  

"Mom? Are you okay?"  I called out. There was no response. I peered out the door into the living room, expecting her to be napping on the couch like usual. She wasn't there. I called for her again. 

"I can clean up the glass. Don't worry about it. You stay inside," I said, use to these type of things. The chemotherapy made her a little out of it and as the cancer progressed, so did her mind. I crept around the glass towards the bathroom door. 

I opened the door and froze at the sight. 

Pills were all over the floor. Not just hers, but every pill in the house were everywhere. I followed the wet spots on the floor to the dripping bathtub. 

I took a step back and felt like a child again. Back when everything was hopeless and all i could do is cry for help. She was submerged in the bathtub. Her eyes were open, but they weren't er eyes. They were open, but lifeless. This person was a pale, lifeless photocopy of Mom. 

Then the screaming came. It felt like a blur, pulling her light body away from the tub. Her eyes were widen open and her mouth slightly ajar. I couldn't see any sign of breathing. 

"Wake up, Mom," I screamed at her. She never finched. Even when I screamed into her eardrum. Even when I slapped her across the face. Even when I pressed my hand on her chest to get her heartbeat going. 

She didn't do anything when I cried in front of her. 

She didn't do a single fucking thing. 

***

I shuddered. Everything inside me was burning, and I felt the need to run somewhere. 

I needed to leave

I grabbed my car keys from my bedside table, and rushed out of my room. I immediately opened my bedroom door and stormed down the hall, not caring for the loud sound it made behind me.

I rushed towards the entrance of the door, hardly recognizing the fact that I was passing by Carlos, who was looking at me with wide eyes.

"Where are you going, Nate?" I heard my Carlos ask.

"I'm going to work," I managed to shout back before I managed to shout back before I ran to my car. My hands shakily opened the door. 

Before I could slam the door shut, I immediately burst into tears. 

And felt completely broken. 

The cancer not only ate away her body.

It destroyed everyone.

"You're quitting?" Sabrina asked incredulously.

The disappointed on her face was evident, but I nodded my head in confirmation.

"I need a break," I told her tiredly, running my fingers through my hair from stress. "I think working is too much for me right now." 

I didn't think I would quit my job, but after seeing the letter, all I knew was that this was too much. After crying in my car for who knew how long, I just felt dead inside. All this time, I thought she left for a reason not known to anyone. 

But she left it for me. It's in my room, and I couldn't even stand the sight of it. All I could think about was Mom's letter sitting in my room, lying in my sock drawer heavy with it's answers. Any progress I made from her death was just destroyed by the sight of it.

Sitting in the car, the first thing I did was to drive towards the diner. I knew that Sabrina was working there today, so that was my first thing. I have been avoiding David at the diner since everything that has happened, and that thought didn't occur my mind when I was Sabrina to share the news.

"At least continue on the music. You guys sound so good," Sabrina insisted, but I shook my head too. 

"I'm taking a little hiatus, but like every rock star, I will be back soon," I weakly joked to Sabrina. She leaned against the table, watching me carefully. Even though I was making direct eye contact with her, all I could think about is Mom. 

Seeing the note Mom wrote just made me lose all thoughts I had and forbade me for making any future thoughts. It was consuming my mind, and I let it.

I couldn't read it. Not now.

I just want to be alone. That was the only thing I felt right now strongly.

"Are you okay?" Sabrina asked softly, looking at me. "David said you have been preoccupied lately, but I just want you to know I am here for you." 

I appreciated the sentiment but I was fucking tired to the bones, and all I wanted to do was leave. 

It was everything with Mom. It was the unfinished business that seems like it was so in the past. And then there was Elise, who is my present. Both are in trouble and I can't do anything about both.

I can't handle the feelings that came with it.

"Thank you Sabrina," I said softly, inching myself closer to the door. "I gotta head out but I just wanted to talk to you. I will see you around. Thanks for the chat." 

"Did you and Elise get into a fight too?" It wasn't even a questioning tone. She stared at me, arms crossed and filled with conviction.

"No, but that stuff isn't helping either," I said, not breaking eye contact with her this time. "How do you do this? I feel like all I do is worry about her. It's just...consuming."

She nodded with understanding. "I'm a girl and Elise is a girl. Obviously we will talk. All I can say is that you have to be patient with her. All these issues you guys are arguing about will be over in a week. Hell, it's six days. I'm not saying that in an attempt to get you together, even though I want you to. I'm just asking is it worth fighting about something that will be over in six days?"

Will it be over in six days?  I thought to myself. It wasn't just her dad that worried me. It was the fact she kept it in. That habit wouldn't change. What if I do something to hurt her? What if I already had. Would she tell me? 

She looked both ways before learning in closer. 

"My parents caught on very early on about everything, and always tries to keep Elise with us. We just try to be there for her as much as we can, and as much as she wants us to be involved...which isn't always often."

Sabrina reached out and placed a hand on my own.

"I know how you probably feel. You want to kill the asshole," she said, her eyes hardening. I nodded my head mutely. 

"It will be over soon. These situations are tricky, and it will be over soon. Just try to relax and take care of yourself. I'm going to be honest with you: you look like crap," Sabrina told me with a smile. I rolled my eyes when she started to crack up at the last part.

"Maybe I will," I was able to slightly joke back. "I will talk to you in a bit."

I got up from the table, and walked out of towards the parking lot, ignoring the immediate heat and sweat that was running down my back. I kept walking until I heard someone calling for my name.

I turned to see David walking towards me. 

"Nate," he said one more time. I stood still, simply watching him and ignoring the fact my hands were trembling. Despite the soft tone in his voice, my body hardened at the painful reminder of our argument. 

"Hey," I greeted him swiftly, trying to keep it together as much as I could. I kicked a pebble in front of me with my hands shoved in my pockets. "What's up?" 

He sighed. "You haven't been returning my texts. I know you saw them, and I do want to talk to you."

I kept seeing his texts, mostly him saying he needed to talk to me but I couldn't get myself to write back. It wasn't even how I felt about him but just the idea of talking to people felt exhausting. 

"Don't worry about Elise. We don't have to talk about her anymore," I informed him, not wanting to hear about her anymore, especially from David. His eyes flashed with guilt at the mention of her name, but he didn't apologize.

"I wasn't trying to text about her," he said, hearing the slight edge in my tone. "I wanted to talk about you." 

"What do you mean?" 

He took a slow step forward. "I know I kept asking are you okay, and I know you said you are fine. If you are actually happy, then I will be happy with you. If you're not happy though-" David began. 

"You don't need to worry," I said, because I knew where this was going. "I'm sorry for being an asshole earlier. I just had a lot in my head, and it wasn't fair on you." 

"But I am worried," he finally said honestly. "I have been worried about you.  You know, you can talk to me if you need anything. I..I don't know what to do anymore." 

His voice was uneven, but I tried not to focus on the small details of him as much as possible.

"I appreciate everything, David. It's just not that easy," I tried to explain, squeezing my eyes tight and seeing Mom's dead body. "It's just better to leave it, David." 

And on that note, I turned around abruptly to continue walking to my car. I didn't want to listen to David anymore. I wanted to stay in my frustrated state just for a little while longer. I couldn't breathe anymore. 

"I need to tell you something," he shouted out. I slowly turned around to watch him coming up to me. He was fidgeting more than I ever saw him. He was very obviously in distress.

"What?" I asked. 

"I need to tell you something. I found out this morning, and I debated about telling you but I don't want to be in the same situation as before. I...I don't want you to blame this on me," David said with determination, his own frustration was coming out. 

I frowned, rubbing the side of my head tiredly. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed. "It's about your Dad. Where has he been for most of this summer?" David asked. I stopped getting angry when he mentioned my Dad.

I shrugged. 

"I don't know. At work, I suppose. Why?" I asked him slowly, still trying to piece together why Dad was relevant in this conversation. David's concerned face turned into a blank stare. HIs mouth was partially open by my comment, making my stomach feel queasy.

There was a change in the tension.

And history has told me that this was going to get a lot worse.

"I don't think he has always been," David said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

I shook my head immediately. "That doesn't make sense. He's gone now. Where else could he be?"

"He was at the mechanic I work at this last week. He mentioned to my boss that work has been off for most of last week," David explained.

I felt it coming. The final smack on my face about some news with Dad lying to me because he wasn't at home, and kept insisting it was because of work.

"What are you trying to say David?" I asked him straight. 

"I knew that wasn't his car, so I took a look at the paper work because I got curious. It was someone named Gina. I don't know who she is exactly, but I thought it was weird he was bringing in a car for someone else."

My frown grew deeper.

Dad's co-worker Gina?

"What are you talking about?" I asked slowly, though I sense where this conversation was coming at.

"I did some poking around this week, and I may have followed him. I saw your dad's car parked at Gina's house in the evening. I think he might be seeing her," David finally said, looking away-almost unsure what to do. "I just thought you would want to know that." 

My head felt dizzy again.

That wasn't right.

Dad loved Mom. He always has. He use to tell us she was the love of life.

He was lying.

I shook it furiously. I wanted to say that I didn't believe him, but I knew it was a lie. I didn't want to believe it. It sounded strange in my head to almost think about. I knew David wouldn't lie about this, but it didn't make sense. Dad was seeing other women?

My stomach felt violently ill.

I looked at David, who was giving me an apologetic glance.

But all I saw was fucking pity.

My arms were glued tight to my stomach, trying to hold back the denial that was consuming my mind. David's face turned from patience to annoyance at my reaction, making a noise of frustration.

"I'm telling the truth. She lives in 245 Spring Hill Street which goes off from Oak Tree Road by the tavern. They are both close to your dad's work," David finally said, the exasperation he gave me told me he was done with this conversation. "Look, get mad at me all you want, but I wouldn't be making this shit up. Call me when you are ready to talk about it."

He walked off, leaving me alone. I watched him blankly as he entered the diner, not once looking back at me. My jaw was so tightly locked that I thought I was going to snap it. Letting his words sit in my head, I opened my car door unsteadily, putting my keys into the ignition and listened to the quiet roar as the car came to life.

I sat there for a few moments, replaying the words David said in my head. I wasn't sure how long I stayed in the car before I put the car on drive to head by Dad's office.

Pulling up to his firm, I drove around the area for a little bit before I saw the Oak Tree Road street sign. Turning on it, I kept driving until I saw Spring Hill Street that was close by. I turned into the street, looking for the house that had the number David said.

I was hoping that I couldn't find the number. That would mean that David was lying to me or messing with me, which was a better situation than the one that he was implying that I was in. When I saw "245" painted on the mailbox that I passed, I immediately slammed the breaks and put the car on park.

Turning my head slightly, I immediately saw the my Dad's black car parked on the driveway as David said.

It was Dad's car.

The first thing I did was open the window because I threw up right then.