Left Drowning

“Oh God.” Chris sounds desperate.

“Sabin, please. Come back inside with me,” I plead.

“If you’re not coming, I’m flying solo.” Sabin inches the tray forward.

“You’re going to die!” Chris’s voice breaks.

“Don’t be so dramatic. I can live through anything. Watch.”

“Wait.” I throw my legs over the railing and stand a foot away from my stupid, stupid drunk friend.

“No, Blythe!” Chris grabs the back of my jacket and keeps me from going forward. “Don’t you dare. Do you understand me? Don’t you fucking dare.”

I turn to him. “I’m fine. Trust me.”

“He’ll pull you down with him. No.”

I remove his grasp on my coat, but he holds my hand tightly in his. “Trust me,” I say again. I slowly move out onto the third-story rooftop. I sit down next to him, my right hand still being nearly crushed by Chris’s as he leans over the railing. He won’t let me go; I know that. “Let’s just talk for a second, Sabe. If you still want to tray off here, we will. But first we talk. Deal?”

“Alrighty, B.” He puts his arm around me and drops his head onto my shoulder. I’m pretty sure that Chris is on the verge of breaking my hand. God, Sabin is so drunk. I smell beer, for sure, but something else. Bourbon, maybe? I didn’t even see him drink that.

“Here’s the thing, Sabe. I’m really cold, and I really want to go inside. And I really, really don’t want to sled off the roof.”

“Tray. Tray off the roof,” he corrects me.

“I really don’t want to tray off the roof,” I say matter-of-factly.

“I do,” he says.

“I don’t want to, sweetheart. I really, really believe that you’re going to get smashed up, and if you make me go with you, I’m going to get smashed up also.”

“Well, that would suck,” he says. “You just got all happy again, didn’t you?”

“I did. And I’m not going to be happy if I’m all smashed up.”

He sighs into me. “I don’t want that either. It’s just that …”

“What?”

“Sometimes I get so tired. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I do. I understand that very well. But right now, we’re going to get up and go inside.” I nudge his head up so that he can see me smiling at him. I whisper, “I need you, Sabin. I just found you, so you can’t do this. I need you to stick around for me.”

He nods and whispers back, “You’re my best friend.”

“I’ve never asked you to do anything before, but I’m asking now. Come inside with me so that we don’t end up in the emergency room. Or the morgue. I know that you don’t want to hurt me.”

“Never.” He laughs a little. “I’m not Chris.”

“Christopher isn’t hurting me.”

“You sure?”

I nod. “I’m sure. Now let’s go.” I tug on Chris’s hand and he pulls me up. Sabin scoots back and follows me over the railing and back to the safety of the upper-level lounge. The room is freezing from the balcony door being open, and I shut it firmly and lock it while Chris turns on the lights.

Sabin stumbles across the room and lies down on the coffee table while Chris and I collapse onto the couch. Chris takes off my iced-up coat and pulls me in, rubbing my arms and shoulders with his hands, trying to stop my shivering. He has to be just as cold as I am, but he is taking care of me nonetheless.

“That was really dumb, Blythe. But thank you,” Chris says. “I don’t think he would have listened to me.”

“I can hear you!” Sabin shouts from the table.

Zach, Eric, and Estelle fly into the room.

“He’s alive!” Eric exclaims. He hiccups while he and Zach grab a seat on the floor.

“Stupid as all hell, but still alive,” Estelle confirms. “Now I’m definitely leaving.” Even after the drama, Estelle looks perfect, her red dress draping over her body beautifully as she makes her way around the room, kissing each of us good-bye on the cheek. She has shifted from panic prayer mode to typically confident Estelle mode so quickly, it’s mind-boggling. She gets to Sabin. “I love you. Stop being such a dick.”

“Let me walk you?” Eric offers.

“I don’t think Zach is letting you out of his sight for ten minutes,” she says.

“That’s right.” Zach tilts his head for a quick kiss from Eric. “But we’ll both walk you. You can’t go alone.”

“I’m fine on my own. My professor is only a block away.”

“Stellie, don’t go!” Sabin lies back flat on the table and talks to her with his head hanging upside down. “Stay just a little longer!”

“Nope. It’s time. See you later, my loves!” Estelle adjusts her giant shoulder bag and steps into the hall, calling to us as she leaves. “I adore you all, even the crazy ones. More than I love turkeys!”

“More than you love vibrators?” Sabin yells after her.

“Ha! No. Never!” she hollers back.

Chris groans. “Jesus, Sabin, shut up!” He takes my feet into his lap and pulls my shoes off so that he can rub my frozen feet.

Sabin giggles. “More than you love Jesus?” he asks loudly. “And his virgin mommy? Bet she had to use a vibrator all the damn time, huh?”

Estelle appears in the doorway. “Fuck you. Watch your fucking mouth.” She isn’t laughing anymore. “Seriously, fuck you, Sabin.”

“Suck it up, sis. Pray to God, and maybe I’ll find religion, too. Then we can crawl into confession together. A family that repents together, stays together. Right?”

“I do pray for you,” she says softly. “For all of you.”

“Well, don’t!” he snaps. “Keep me out of that horseshit. You’re so out of your mind.”

“Sabe, leave her alone,” Eric says.

“Oh, what the fuck, Eric? Why should I leave her alone? I can’t pick on my sister once in a while? Of course I can. I can do whatever I want.” His voice is louder now. “Especially when it comes to all that fucking ‘Jesus loves me’ bullshit.”

I can feel Chris’s legs stiffen under my legs, and his hand tightens just a bit on my foot. The tone in the room has shifted. I glance at Zach. We are both in the same position as non-family members, and his discomfort is as palpable as mine must be. Chris is watching Sabin—waiting—but he doesn’t say anything, not even when Sabin launches into a particularly sarcastic delivery of “Jesus Loves the Little Children.” His singing is obnoxious and embarrassing, for him and for Estelle.

“Sabin, you better shut your mouth,” Eric warns. The only reason he hasn’t gotten up is because Zach has a firm grip on his shoulder. “That’s enough.”

“It’s not enough,” Sabin spits out. He gets up and cracks open one of the beer cans that he’s carried in from the balcony. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d taken them inside. He downs half the can of beer and returns to his spot on the table.

We are all quiet while we prepare. It’s the eye of the storm, and I am aware that it’s going to get worse.

“Ask Blythe if I’m right. She’s got to live with that religious nut. Blythe, tell ’em! You don’t believe in that shit. Come on, Stellie’s a little bonkers, right?”

I say nothing. This is not the Sabin I know, and I don’t recognize the surly, nasty attitude that he’s throwing out. Although I’m angry, I’m also worried about him. I know that it’s just the alcohol talking, or mostly it is, but it’s breaking my heart to watch him like this. Estelle hasn’t moved from her spot by the doorway, and she looks equally crushed, incapable of defending herself right now.

Sabin looks at me. “You’re taking their side on this, too?” he demands.

“Don’t answer that,” Chris says.

“Oh, now you’re speaking for Blythe? That’s fucking rich!”

“I’m not speaking for Blythe. I’m telling you to shut the fuck up and lay off.” I can tell how much effort it takes, but he softens his voice as he continues talking. “Sabe. Pull your shit together. You’ve put us through enough tonight.”

Sabin slides off the table and grabs another beer. Then he grabs my arm and pulls me from the couch. I wish more than anything that he would pass out because I don’t like who he is now. This is not my friend. This is a drunk, belligerent, disrespectful version of my friend, but I let him take me from my place with Chris because I don’t want to do anything to antagonize him further.