Page 12 of Gravity

He laughs again, standing from the couch and heading into the kitchen. “I like the fact it takes away current shit and causes intoxication that gets better with every drink. Booze is good for making you forget.”

“It’s also great at fucking up your insides,” I groan.

Like the ghost of Christmas past, my mother’s face appears behind my closed eyes, and I wonder if it had been the same for her. Had she drunk herself in to an oblivious state to forget? A part of me understands if she did, but the other part of me loathes her for it because while she was dousing in her pain to forget, she was hurting me every day and making me remember.

“Coffee?” Asher shouts.

“Strong.” I sit up, trying to get my head connecting with the rest of my body so I can move. Laying on Asher’s floor all night had been far from comfortable. The empty beer bottles at the side of me are an indication that I had clearly still been drinking when I’d got down here.

“Jesus,” I groan, standing. The room spins a little and my stomach flops with nausea and hunger.

“How are you feeling?”

“Beautiful.” Finding my shirt, I place it on and look around the room. “Where the fuck is my boot?”

“It’s in here.”

Heading into the kitchen, the smell of the bacon and coffee hits my senses, but the one thing I need more than anything is water. My mouth feels like a desert. After grabbing a glass and making a start on refreshing my body, I take a seat at Asher’s breakfast bar while he prepares us both some food.

With Norfolk, Virginia, being home to the naval base, Asher had taken up residence here many years ago—quite a distance from the family home but close enough to be there quickly if they needed him. There was once a time I’d never thought he would leave, but after a few years in the Navy, that had all changed. He’d come home one day after a few months of being deployed and stated he needed his space. Within a few days, he was packed up and moved out. I’ve never envied my friend more than I had that day because, while he was getting on with his life, I was yet to leave home. I was unable to get away from looking after a woman who was constantly living on her nerves whilst trying to find all the answers at the bottom of a bottle.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the weekend? You wanna do it all again tonight?” he asks, with a laugh.

“Fuck no. I’m done for another year. I’m working tonight.” I take a mouthful of coffee and look out of the patio windows at the sun hitting the back yard. I need to get back to work and get my head back in the game. Taking the day off yesterday had been much needed but that being said, if I’d have worked, I wouldn’t have succumbed to the death trap that is alcohol. Working keeps me focused. It keeps me together. It keeps me from falling any deeper into my grief.

“What’re your plans now that you’re back and have a few days off?” I ask Asher, not remembering if we have had this conversation already.

Placing bacon and eggs on a plate in front of me, he sits opposite me. “I’m not sure. I need to touch base with Cole’s Security; Mark wants to talk about a job. But I don’t know any more than that right now. Apparently, Jackson has been in touch with him and there’s a possibility one of us will have to head out to California.”

“And that will be you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Could even be Rex or Linc. Either way, I want the work.”

“Getting bored already?” I laugh.

“Just got to keep active,” he mumbles with a mouth full of food. “But before any of that, I need to check in on Mom and Dad.”

Guilt tightens my chest. It’s been weeks since I last saw Fiona and Pete.

“How is your dad?” I ask, hating that I’ve become so distant. After Pete’s stroke, I had been there for the family, just like everyone else. What Pete has gone through hasn’t just been unfortunate, it’s been un-fucking-bearable. Seeing a man with such strength and determination suddenly have everything ripped away from him is hard to witness. I often ask myself why life would be so brutal to take out a man like that when he’s done nothing but love his family and fight for his country. There is no justice. No reason. But then, while I’d been trying to help support them, my own world had crumbled right in front of me, faster than I could control, leaving me broken, angry and lost.

“He’s doing okay. His speech is getting better and seems happy that I’m back.”

I can sense there is more. “But?”

The distressed look in Asher’s eyes tells me there is something he’s not letting on. With Asher home I have been checking in on them more because it’s something I can’t escape from without questions being asked, but even then, it’s not as often as it should be. The last time I saw Pete, was only because I’d happened to be outside when he and Fiona had returned from the hospital with his new wheelchair. After a brief conversation and a promise to them that I would visit more—a promise I’ve failed to fulfill—they’d gone about their business.

Asher stares at his empty plate for a moment. The uncertainty in his face is evident, and I hate myself for being so absorbed in my own troubles when my friend clearly has his own. He sighs heavily and stands. “Forget it. He’s doing great, so that’s all that matters, I guess.”

As he takes my plate and places it in the sink to be washed, I feel an air of uncertainty hanging between us. Despite his cocky attitude at times, Asher has a side to him that is introverted. He’s never been one to share his feelings, and I of all people understand that of late. The difference is, we both play different roles in this world, and his job is more intense than mine will ever be. Sometimes, the little things can reignite something he’s choosing to push out of his thoughts. Not only that, I know how much he tries to follow in his dad’s footsteps and make him proud.

“Ash, you do know you can talk to me, right? I know he’s doing well, but it can’t be easy seeing him like that at times, especially as you two have always been close.”

“He is closer with Nora, which is expected given the fact she’s a daddy’s girl. I just…” With his back to me, his shoulders are tense and the muscles in his jaw tighten. “I just want to make him proud.”

“And you have. You do.”

He whispers something that sounds like ‘it’s not enough’. I want to push him on it more, but he turns around as if this conversation never happened.