Unveiling The Sky Read online

  “How come you never hang out with your friends?”

  He grinned. “I am hanging out with my friends.”

  Rolling my eyes, I said, “Yeah, but surely you had friends before us? And Derek says you never go out unless it’s with us, and you never talk about any other friends.”

  Gabe’s brows bunched like he’d just realized this was true, and he paused as he thought it over. “I left my master’s program last year, and I guess business friends are like alcohol or drug friends. They’re only your friends when they can get something from you. Once they can’t…” He trailed off and shrugged.

  I frowned as my gaze traveled over his resigned, yet unaffected expression. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  “Not really. I was never really close with any of them.”

  “That’s kind of sad.”

  He smiled as he looked over at me. “It wasn’t that bad. I still went out and had fun. Plus I had Miranda, my ex, and my family. I wasn’t exactly lacking in human interaction.”

  “Do you still see your parents a lot?”

  His smile dropped just as Sherry yelled that we were stopping for ice cream. A flicker of relief washed over his face and he took a deep breath before picking up his pace and briskly walking away from me. My pace slowed as I thought about what just happened, and how surprisingly painful it was to see him walk away from me. But when he turned around and I saw his pleading smile and the mournful expression in his eyes, I realized he wasn’t walking away from me as much as he was running away from something else.

  “I’m fine,” I said on an exhausted sigh. Because I was. I was fine. I was fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.

  Maybe tomorrow I’d believe it.

  “Maybe you’ll feel better if you just stay here.” I looked at Naomi and Sherry’s insistent faces and for a second I thought about staying, but in the end I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stay there bringing down the people I cared about. I wasn’t in the right headspace to be around people right now. I shook my head and slumped further into the couch. I closed my eyes and tried to block out this crummy day…

  Sherry and I had barely made it to our ethics course when the teacher began lecturing. We were only five minutes in when Nathan raised his hand, and like always, we glanced at each other and rolled our eyes. When everyone knows the name of one of their classmates in a room that has enrollment in the triple digits, there’s a word for that person: brownnoser. Nathan had an opinion about everything, but conveniently he only voiced them after the professor had already given us hers and wouldn’t ya know, he always had the same one.

  “You think his lips get chapped from kissing her ass so much?” Sherry whispered.

  I laughed and we spent the next thirty minutes much like we spent every class, zoning out, joking about something, or doodling. We were in the unit on neuroethics and discussing mind-altering drugs, so I probably should have seen it coming.

  “Okay, we have about ten minutes left so I’d like to spend that time prepping for the next lecture. The next article you will read discusses the use of antidepressants and their effect on the arts. To give you a brief summary it will highlight how some of the most well-received pieces of art in history come from those who were melancholy. The author raises the question about whether modern day antidepressants have become a disservice to the arts. I’d like to hear some of your thoughts on this topic before you read the article.”

  She stopped and stared across the vast classroom expectantly. I felt Sherry tense up next to me, and I’d be lying if I said my palms weren’t sweaty and my throat wasn’t dry. It was a classic response to this topic.

  I was surprised when Nathan raised his hand because the professor hadn’t really given her opinion one way or another yet. But when she nodded in his direction, he immediately started speaking.

  “I don’t think antidepressants should be prescribed as often as they are. I mean, we’re practically handing them out like candy on Halloween. We have gotten a lot of great art from those who are mentally unsound, and it seems like a waste just because people can’t deal with their problems from time to time. I mean, we all have them and we’re not constantly trying to pop pills for them. I think at the end of the day it comes down to laziness and feeling sorry for yourself, and other people shouldn’t have to suffer for it.”

  I could feel Sherry’s eyes on me, trying to get my attention, but I never looked at her. My hands were balls in my lap and I was squeezing so hard I could feel the bite of my nails in my skin. And if it weren’t for the fact that I hadn’t passed out, I would swear I wasn’t breathing.

  “Nathan, we aren’t talking about clinical depression. Maybe I wasn’t clear, but the discussion focuses on the temperament of melancholy as opposed to a serious medical issue.”

  As she kept talking and others chimed in, some defending depression, some not, it all became a blur. All I kept hearing were Nathan’s words, and each one gutted me.

  Can’t deal with their problems from time to time.

  It comes down to laziness and feeling sorry for yourself.

  Other people shouldn’t have to suffer for it.

  When class was dismissed ten minutes later, I mindlessly packed up my stuff and stood to leave. I finally looked at Sherry and wished I hadn’t. She was always so tough and never valued pity, but I think when it came to me she had no idea how to act. So even though I’m sure she didn’t mean to, I always saw the hint of pity in her eyes, and I hated it.

  I rolled my eyes and pushed her toward the aisle. “I’m fine.” She wavered like she didn’t believe me, but I stood my ground. Finally, reluctantly, she turned and made her way to the exit.

  My eyes flew open at the same time the front door did. I completely forgot that Gabe and Derek were coming over for dinner tonight. They both walked in laughing, but the second they saw us their smiles dropped.

  Derek’s questioning gaze flickered between the three of us before he tentatively came forward and put the takeout on the table in front of me.

  “Hey, everything okay?” he asked with a slight frown.

  “I’m fine.” I gave him a tight smile and started shoving my books into my bag. Logically I knew none of this was really a big deal. Nathan was just ignorant, and I should have been able to ignore him with no problem. But I couldn’t, and in the blink of an eye today became an “off” day and I could do nothing but ride it out. It was always just a day to get through, and sometimes that alone had to be the victory.

  The second we walked through the door things were tense. I looked at Derek to see if he had any idea what was going on, but his expression was guarded. Alara was avoiding my eyes as she grabbed her things. When she straightened out she couldn’t avoid my stare any longer, and when our eyes met she gave me a tired smile. Nothing like the radiance I’d gotten used to.

  Derek and Naomi began talking softly to each other while I crossed the room and stood next to her. And suddenly all I wanted, all I needed, was to make her feel better. Slowly, so she saw it coming, I reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before resting my palm around her balled-up fist. She gently turned her head and tried to offer me another smile, but it seemed to get stuck and it quickly dropped like it was never there at all.

  “Alara.”

  At the sound of her name, her head snapped up and her eyes flickered between our friends before she spoke in a hoarse voice. “I’m fine.” She dropped my hand before reaching for her bag. “I actually just remembered that I have a paper due tomorrow. I don’t know how I forgot.” She tried to laugh it off as she drolly hit herself in the head and backed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Derek asked, and it was the first time I’d heard his tone be anything but light.

  “To the library.”

  Derek and Naomi shared a look before both nodding and forcing smiles. “Well, good luck, hon. Not that you need it because you’re brilliant.” Naomi spoke more forcibly than necessary, as if this comment extended beyond this moment. With
a final nod and close-lipped smile in Naomi’s direction, Alara disappeared out the door, never offering me a second glance.

  “Is she okay? Should someone go talk to her?” I asked as soon as the door shut. I had already started heading toward the door when I was halted by Naomi’s gentle touch on my arm.

  “It’s usually best to leave her alone,” Derek added.

  “What the hell was that about?” I turned to face Derek and pointed toward the table and the rapidly cooling Chinese food we’d brought in.

  “It’s not really our place to say.”

  I groaned in frustration. “Naomi, I’m not trying to gossip here. I’m just worried and… maybe I can help.”

  I was met with silence as they exchanged a worried, yet hopeful, glance. Naomi finally broke the silence.

  “How?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. But I’m willing to try and that has to count for something, right?”

  Again I was met with silence but this time it was heavier, so much so that I could feel it more than hear it. But I didn’t wait for their answer because it didn’t really matter; whether I could help or not, I still just wanted to be there for her.

  My breathing was heavy as I stood in front of my unlocked car. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down, but it was useless—there were too many thoughts in my head and an insurmountable pressure on my chest. Realizing I was in no state to drive, I quickly threw my stuff in the backseat, relocked my car, and began walking toward the gated pool at the opposite end of the complex.

  My mind drifted as I carefully made my way down the cobblestones and I thought of Nathan’s comments. Jesus, did my friends secretly feel that way about me? As soon as that thought surfaced I shook it off because I just couldn’t make myself believe it.

  The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Nathan seemed to believe that he had a firm grasp on pain and sadness and that no one else quite understood like he did. Honestly, what bullshit. What complete and utter bullshit.

  It was pretty ridiculous how people collectively decided what pain was. We talked about headaches and expected everyone to know the exact kind and amount of pain we were feeling, but it wasn’t the same for everyone. People who had migraines certainly felt more pain that the average person ever would. I kind of thought it was the same thing with depression.

  Being depressed and having depression were not the same thing. It took me awhile to understand that, to feel less guilty about it. But people like Nathan certainly hadn’t helped.

  Snap out of it.

  Other people have it so much worse.

  Life isn’t easy sometimes.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

  You just want attention.

  Everyone feels this way sometimes.

  Happiness is a choice.

  A choice. My choice. Like I woke up and picked out my mood the way I picked out my clothes, and I chose to feel like ending my life. But that wasn’t how it worked. It wasn’t always about being happy or sad; some days there was just… nothing. Utter and complete apathy. And when that happened I would pray to be sad, because there’s nothing worse than apathy.

  So when people talked about being “depressed” and always equated it to sadness, I knew they had no clue. It was like that stupid motivational poster with the iceberg on it that hung on the wall of almost every childhood classroom I had been in. Being sad was just the tip of the iceberg, and to truly understand the magnitude of clinical depression you had to look beyond what you could see, you had to look deep below the surface.

  But people didn’t want to do that, because that was scary and that made things less black and white. And even though I wanted to hate those people, I couldn’t because on some level I understood. I still got pissed and it massively sucked, but on some level I got it.

  Shaking my head, I unlocked the gate to the pool and strolled in. I should have registered that the gate never clicked closed behind me, but I was still too engrossed in my own thoughts. I was lying down and gazing at the cloudy sky when a voice startled me.

  “Hey.” I looked up to see Gabe slowly lowering himself on the chaise lounge next to me.

  “Hi,” I responded as I returned my eyes to the sky.

  “You okay?” Gabe asked as he lay down, mirroring my position.

  “Yeah,” I replied automatically. I didn’t even think before I answered. And I didn’t even realize until that moment just how trained I was to assure everyone that I was fine. The weight of that reality caused my eyes to shut and silent tears to streak down my face into my hair.

  Besides the whirling noises of the pool and the crickets chirping, we sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

  “I know it’s probably pretty boring, but my favorite constellation is the Big Dipper.”

  My forehead bunched in confusion at the random topic. Quietly sniffing, I asked, “Why?”

  “I’m not really sure. Maybe because it was always easy to find?” I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye. “I’ve just always loved it. What’s your favorite?”

  “Uhh… I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about it,” I answered distractedly.

  “Well pick one now.”

  Frowning, I wiped away the last of my tears. “There are too many clouds, I can’t see anything.”

  “Maybe you can’t see them all. But just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t there… waiting for you. Look… there’s Orion,” he said as he pointed up. I followed his finger until I saw the constellation between two clouds. As the clouds began to part and he pointed out a few more, I just sat there and wordlessly listened to his explanations.

  “Will you promise me that next time it’s clear you’ll look for your favorite?” Turning my head, I caught his intense gaze. “Promise me you’ll look for the stars?” My chest burned and my throat closed; it felt like he was asking me for so much more. I nodded before I went any further down that rabbit hole, and we both turned away from each other to look up.

  We were quiet for a while after that. I hadn’t looked at Gabe again but I could feel his gaze on me every few minutes, and I couldn’t help but wonder why he was still there. Why he willingly came out here when I was clearly a wreck.

  I was still lost in my thoughts when Gabe said, “You know, it’s okay if you’re not… okay, I mean.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  “Do you?” I glanced over to find him intently staring at me with a raised eyebrow and a genuine look of concern. As my gaze roamed his face, I couldn’t help but think about my father. Not in a creepy Freudian way, but in an understanding and sympathetic way. Gabe’s look of concern, and maybe even affection? It mirrored the way my father often looked at me. Lost in my thoughts, I said the same thing I would if my dad were here.

  “I need a pass.”

  “A what?” His face bunched up in adorable confusion.

  I smiled, remembering the first time I used a pass. Turning onto my side, I tucked my hands beneath my head and curled my legs toward my chest before speaking. “When I was a kid and I got upset by something, I never really wanted to talk about it. I was a huge brat about it, actually.” A small smile tugged at Gabe’s lips. “Anyways, my dad was always looking for ways to get me to talk to him. He was a big believer in talking through your problems, and one day he came up with the pass. He told me that anytime there was a problem, I had to talk to him about it. Not just talk, but also dissect everything. We couldn’t leave the room until I felt better about it. But you know, I was super smart and knew all about quid pro quo. Although at the time I think I called it ‘squid pro ko.’” Gabe laughed and nodded for me to continue. “The deal was that he would give me five passes in my life in which he would leave me alone to ‘sulk,’ as he put it. Any other time, though, we had to discuss the issue in full until we came up with a solution.”

  “How many have you used?”

  “Technically, three. But it’s all a little bit of a front. My dad
would never force me to talk about something if I didn’t want to. He just knew how closed off I was, and he wanted to make sure I could see the benefits to confiding in someone.”

  “He sounds awesome,” Gabe said.

  “He is.” I grew quiet, closing my eyes and thinking about all the ways my dad helped me.

  “So, you want a pass, huh?” There was no trace of mocking in Gabe’s voice, only deliberation.

  “Yeah.” I opened my eyes to find him looking up and processing my strange request.

  “Okay… but I’ll only give you three.” He paused. “Including this one.”

  I chuckled, but blew out a sigh of relief. “That’s awfully greedy.”

  He smiled as his eyes fluttered closed, looking grateful that the somber atmosphere was quickly fading. “I have a feeling that when it comes to you, that’ll always be the case,” he said softly. I slowly turned away, unsure of how to respond. When my back made contact with the chair again, I realized my lips were turned up. It was a small, but genuine, smile that would have seemed impossible fifteen minutes ago. And even though it was such a small thing, it felt huge in that moment.

  September slowly and quietly bled into October as I continued to adjust to my new life. The summer was hanging on as the Arizona temperature continued to linger in the low 90s, but blessedly left the triple digits. Most people were rejoicing in the change to cooler weather—because when you live in Arizona, 90s is in fact “cooler” weather—but I was dreading the upcoming month. And no doubt Sam was feeling the same way. Our mother’s birthday was in the middle of it and even though neither of us had mentioned it, I knew we were both anxious for it to pass.

  For me this felt like the first real birthday we would have without her. With her death coming a mere four weeks before her birthday, it had still felt too raw last year. It hadn’t been one individual day of sorrow because at that point every single day had been painful, so it had just blended into the rest without us really noticing. But this year I would notice, and it was going to suck.