Most people were overjoyed they took to their boats, I thought it less like a lake and more like a moat. The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flatlands to your door have been silenced forevermore. And the distance is quite simply much to far for me to row. It seems farther than ever before."
- Transatlanticism - Death Cab for Cutie


“Well, so you know, I’m kind of mad at you.” I say conversationally that evening when Andy finally returned. I sit cross legged on my bed with a battery powered lantern at my side, illuminating the shimmering layer of green paint I was applying to my finger nails.

He sighs and chuckles under his breath, peeling away his jacket as he crosses the room, tossing it over the arm of the pink recliner by the window.

“I know... I’m sorry.”

“Where were you?” I ask curiously, “Ghosty business?”

He nods, and sits on my bed for a bit, watching me intently in silence while I continue to layer different colors of sparkly gloss onto my fingertips.

“Searching for answers...” He admits, shrugging. “Nothing has made any sense since we got back, and I’m just trying to piece things together.”

I nod in agreement, looking down. “Me, too... Along with trying to sort out my human problems.”

“What kind of human problems?” He perks up, ready to be of assistance.

“Elizabeth was acting so out of character today,” I explain quietly with a furrowed brow, “something was bothering her that she couldn’t say... So when I went on a walk today after school, I passed her house and got a good glimpse into the truth of her and Reece’s relationship. It is literally composed of spiteful comments towards her, and fearful cowering towards her...”

“What are you saying?”

“I definitely did not break her nose.” I shake my head firmly, glancing up at him momentarily before looking back down at my work. “But I’m thinking that maybe... Maybe he did.”

“Reece?” He laughs humorlessly, “That preppy fuck? Okay, when do you want me to kill him?”

His suddenly protective, loyal behavior sent a warmth surge of adoration to my heart and I smile at him, patting his hand. “In dear time,” I laugh, before sighing, “if I could, I’d ship you over right now to handle it... But unfortunately, legal justice is a relevant thing, and I have to deal with this like an adult.”

“Murder is an adult activity.” he shrugs with a coy smile and I smack his arm. “Not really! Unless you’re a psycho who actually classifies murder as a hobby.”

He pouts his lips, “I would.”

“I know,” I sigh, patting his shoulder before getting up to return the bottles of nail polish to my vanity, pausing briefly the reorganize the colors before walking back, waving my drying hands in the air. “and I appreciate the offer. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I go to the window, and lean over the sill, staring up at the clear night sky, where the moon hangs low and golden, covering my front yard and street with a dull silver glow. At least the moon hasn’t changed.

“Are you okay?” Andy speaks up, and I hesitate before answering, contemplating his question first.

“I suppose,” I shrug loosely, “but it’s getting harder to tell. Everything I know and understand is changing.”

He sits quietly, watching me with sharp blue eyes. I turn and sit at my desk, waiting for my nails to dry.

“You...” I stop, looking down at the carpet, trying to figure out what I’m going to say. “you never told me about what really happened when you were sixteen...” I frown, and look at him. He looks confused, but there’s also a spark of recognition in his eyes. “You said they sought you out just to bully you... You didn’t say that there was...”

I stop myself to revaluate what I’m even saying.

His forehead creases in understanding and worry. “How did you find out about that?”

“Ashley told me,” I sighed softly, “Andy, why didn’t you say anything? It wouldn’t have changed how I look at you.”

He shrugs and looks down at his thin fingers in silence, twisting them togehter for several moments before replying “I couldn’t help but be scared. You were... You are, the most important person in my life. I couldn’t see myself where you walk out of it because of something I’d done. I wanted to tell you so many times about Patrica, but it never felt right...”

I nod, “I don’t think telling someone that you’ve killed someone before could ever have the right moment... I don’t think you killed her.”

“I didn’t,” he agrees softly, his eyes drawn and sadened, “but I aided her. She asked for my help. Patricia was a year older than me, and I kinda had a crush on her, and that blinded me to what was right, and I got so jittery helping her that I accidentaly gave her an overdose.”

No further details come, and there doesn’t need to be more. I can tell from his troubled expression and tone that it was a very unpleasant thing to witness.

I tap my nail polish to see if it had dried, and when it had, I got up and killed the lights, and retreated to my bed, curling up in a ball, reaching out for Andy until my fingers brush the fabric of his torn Misfits shirt. He scooted closer, and I hugged him tightly, feeling the cool chill of his skin beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Nothing that happened in the past matters now.” I murmur tiredly, pressing my face against his skin, taking a dep breath. “I love you for who you are now, and I’m so proud you got out of there alive.”

I close my eyes, but I can’t sleep, despite how tired I feel.

He pulls his arm around my shoulders, pressing his cold fingers against my upper arms.

“You’re going to freeze to death here.” he chuckles in the darkness before reaching down and pulling up the covers, tucking them in snugly around me to minimalize where we touch.

“It’d be a good death,” I say with a semi-hopeful tone.

“Stay alive,” he sighs in the darkness, his voice worn and saddened, “you don’t want this.”

I hug him tighter to me, and feel his weight, but even so, he doesn’t feel real. His skin is cold as a corpse, and he has no heartbeat when I rest my head on his chest. Just the low whistle of air entering and leaving his lungs by reflex.

“Tell me a story... Please?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know... Something about you.”

A long pause of silence followed before he spoke. “Okay,” he murmurs quietly, “When I arrived in California...

I was alone. All around me were strange people. At the subway stations and the bus stops, there were people with scales tattooed on their skin and their teeth filed into fangs, and they wore contacts that complimented their monsterous appearances. I’d never seen anything like them before, really, not even while touring California with Black Veil Brides.

I later learned that those people were entertainers for this bar called ‘The Zoo’. I’d see the same five people at the subway station every morning on my way to work, and we kind of became friends. One night, they invited me to The Zoo, and promised it would be fun. I had my doubts, but I was lonely, didn’t really know anyone, and was ready to get out of my shell and branch out.

The following night, I rode the subway to The Zoo with Gary, the man who had spared no expense turning himself into a human lizard, complete with the forked tongue and implants under his skin that appeared to look like horns and lumps.

Meeting those people was my first step in learning not to judge a book by his cover. They looked terrifying, yes, but they ended up being some of the best friends I made in California.

We get to The Zoo, and immediately, Gary shows me around. The other performers are on stage, performing a strange concept play of some sort, moving in a line with dramatic movements to Eye of the Tiger. The black lights that shone on them made their colored contacts glow neon in the dark, and I could feel their eyes on me as I stood in the shdows.

But behind every animal mask and every sharp toothed grin, I could only see the face of the girl I’d killed... And I could only see Ashley. Neon irises would turn brown, and their faces contorted into looks of disapproval, and I’d see my best friend standing over me with a dark, betrayed glare in his eyes.

The girl dressed like a tiger moved swiftly, her movements calculated and careful as she stalked her prey in the crowd. She met my eyes, and saw something in them that she wanted, so she parted the crowd to approach me, but when I looked back at her, all I saw was long, white-blonde hair and a confident smile, followed by an alluring voice asking me to help her ‘shoot up.’

All at once, it was too much, and I ran out of there with my chest heaving. They watched me go in confusion, and talked amongst themselves. I couldn’t stop running, in fear that Patricia and Ashley would find me again and blame me for what had happened them.

I would run until I fell to my knees and passed out, always waking up in different places, moved out of the way of danger by some kind souls. I was more lost than I had ever been, and so confused. California was supposed to be the reset button, things weren’t supposed to hurt anymore. I didn’t understand why the shadows were still chasing me, or why every girl I saw, her face would morph to fit Patricia, and she would cry... She’d cry trails of black mascara tears and say “Why did you kill me, Andy?”

I took some time off work, and invested what money I had into getting a therapist. If I didn’t get on top of the problem, the problem was going to get on top of me and smother me, and I wasn’t quite ready to die.

I couldn’t really afford one, though, so I resorted to walking into the local community college, requesting to speak with a guindance counselor. I think I confused her a great deal when I sat down, told her my name, and immediately followed it up with “I don’t go to this school, I ran away from home, and I’m seeing dead people. Can you help me?”

Not but three months later, I was on the right track again, and applying to an internship at the college, alongside my mechanic job downtown. Nothing can properly explain how it feels to finally have your shit together after so long. I actually felt organized for once, and once I got back that stability, I felt more confident in branching out and meeting new people.

I made some great friends in school, and rekindled my friendship with the crew from The Zoo. I explained to them the best I could what was going on with me, because I figured that since they were freaks, and I was a freak, telling them was okay, and they understood.

But while all these great things were happening for me, there was still guilt rotting in the back of my mind. Every thought followed up by the guilty thought ‘you should call home. Your parents want to hear your voice and know what you’re up to’, because up until that point, no one had heard from me in months, and I could have been dead.

I procrastinated for a long time, constantly making up excuses for why I couldn’t. I’d pack my schedule every day just so I didn’t have to, and I’d skip lunch breaks to keep my mind busy, which earned me a bit of an eating disorder, that luckily my therapist caught wind of early on and we stomped out those embers before they could become a major problem.

One day I was in her office, the freezing air drifting down from the air conditioner vent above my head while I wait for her to speak. She sits on the leather couch across from me, and holds out a phone with an authoritve expression.

“Call them.” She tells me firmly, and I stare at the phone like it’s a bomb.

“I can’t.” I choke out, shaking my head. “I’ve waited too long now, and now it will be weird if I do.”

“You’re not the same kid who walked into my office six months ago, Andrew. Call home, tell them what they’re up to. I am sure they would love to hear from you.”

I look at the phone in her hand again, and finally reach for it in defeat, sighing nervously, staring down at the keypad. The number of my previous home engrained into my memory, never to be forgotten. She gives me a pleased smile as I begin to dial the number, digit by digit.

I tap my foot violently against the tile of the office floor, my palms growing sweaty, and my heart racing faster with every buzz of the ring reaching the other end. It gets to the fourth ring, and I’m split by two emotions... One being disappointed, because I had been unconsciously excited to hear my parents voices, and they weren’t there to speak to, and the other being relief that I had avoided the call home for another few weeks, right when I hear the low click of the phone being picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey...” I breathe into the receiver.

“Who’s this?”

“A-Andy.” I say, feeling my chest tightening with foreign emotions, “It’s me.”

“Andy!” My Dad greets me excitedly, “How are you? We haven’t heard from you in a long time! We figured you’d gotten a new phone or something because your old number always went to voicemail...” he rambles, and I smile sadly.

I know they do... I’ve listened to every single message, every night, with tears running down my cheeks and anger at myself burning in my chest as the guilt consumes every drop of happiness.

“Yeah, yeah... I’ve been pretty good. Actually, really, really good. The best I’ve been in a long time.”

“Really?! That’s wonderful! What’s been going on?”

“A lot,” I admit, wiping my nose on my wrist, sniffing, “it took me some time to figure myself out, but I think I finally did. Dad, I am currently sitting in the guidance counselor’s office at Berkeley Community College, and in fifteen minutes, I will leave this room, and return to my classes. Classes, Dad! I’m a student here!”

The excitement in my voice causes it to crack. I hear my Dad’s laugh of astonishment, and I can feel him smiling through his voice. “That’s incredible, Andy! We’re so proud of you!”

My eyes grow glossy as more tears come. I try my best to fight them off, but they win, and for every drop that rolls down my cheek, another comes to quickly replace it.

“I miss you Dad... So much.”

“I miss you, too, Andy. And I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” I cry.

“Hey, do you want to talk to your Mom? She’d love to hear what you’re up to.”

I swallow, and take a deep breath to collect myself. “Yeah, I’d like that. Love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, son. Take care, and don’t be a stranger!”

I laugh, but it’s a broken chuckle that breaks from my lips. I purse my lips into a line while I wait anxiously to hear my Mother’s voice. Her voice has always brought a wave of serene comfort over me. During those dark times prior to graduation, she would have long chats with me regarding what had happened to Ashley, and she would explain firmly why nothing like that should ever happen to me. “Your life’s got meaning, Andy. Treat it with value, and you will never be poor.” She told me as I hugged her tightly on our front porch before I left.

My emo makeup leaving blackened stains on her shirt, and my frizzy Motley Crue-esque hair getting everywhere.

Her voice brings me back to reality when I hear it sparkling to life over the line. “Andy!” She squeals excitedly, “it’s so wonderful to hear from you!”

“Mom!” I smile weakly, “mom, I’m sorry, I love you.”

“Andy, honey, it’s okay! I love you, too. What have you been up to? Chris told me you had news.”

Of course he did. Whenever Dad had something exciting to share, he’d beam with pride and tell everyone he could. Not to boast or brag, but to share how proud he was.

“I’m taking college courses at Berkeley Community College!” I laugh into the reciever, “it feels unreal to be here, walking the halls with other students, and this time, I fit in. And I have my own dorm! And I still have my job at that mechanic shop, slowly working my way to where I want to be. I didn’t know what life held for me, I didn’t think I’d ever find somewhere I wanted to be, but here I am.”

I’d lived in California for a year before I showed up at the college with no hope left in my body, and two and half years later, I am fairly successful.

Eight years later, I live in the same dorm, taking more classes because I love the feeling of learning something new. I don’t take the subway anymore, because I have my own truck to get around, and I now work at a better mechanic shop closer to school. I never felt the need to change too much after the fortune I’d found that year.

I tried dating, but all the girls felt the same. Awkward and weird, always wanting to party or hang out, never just adventure and enjoy each other’s company.

She squeals excitedly, “That is incredible! Wow! Congratulations, honey!”

We talked for a little longer before the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch break, and the start of my next class. I sigh, “Mom, I have to go... Class is starting. But I will call again, soon, okay?”

“Okay, love you!”

“I love you, too.” I smile and we say our final goodbyes.

“How did that feel?” My guidance counselor asks after I hang up and hand her the phone.

I hesitate, concentrating on how I feel now that I’ve gotten the daunting task over with.

“I feel relieved,” I admit with a shrug, “like I’ve finally taken a deep breath.”

Notes

Chapter inspired by Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie
Shoutouts!

- Cannible Cat
- BVBOD_Cat
- Saber_Tooth