❝ 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 was noticing but she was disappearing.
nobody was noticing but she was already gone. ❞
“Sometimes I get so tired that I can’t feel my edges anymore. It’s like melting. But not in a good way.” The End of the F***ing World (S02E06)
featuring: @eleanorhirsch.
ELIZABETH LAIL photographed on her wedding day by Forged in the North
His tolerance for people meddling in his life was short by anybody’s standards, and that included family and friends as well as strangers. Since he didn’t like to think of himself as a hypocrite, he tried to extend the same courtesy to other people. Her drinking was her business, at least until it imposed some moral or safety problem, like trying to drive that way. She looked to be about a decade younger than he was, and well… he’d been there. His twenties were not a time in his life he’d like to revisit. It was hard to say though. Maybe she just had one of those faces.
“Nice to meet you too, Beck. And thanks for saving me from drinking alone. It was starting to get sad.” A self-deprecating chuckle accompanied the comment, and he took a drink while she gathered her thoughts. “Fair.” He tipped his head, briefly surveying the place for possible options besides pool. Truth or dare could easily get more personal than he preferred to get with most people, even if she wasn’t likely to remember a lot of this conversation. “How do you feel about darts? Or should we be avoiding all the potential weapons, as a blanket rule?”
“Super Beck to the rescue,” she chuckled, but the sound sounded hollow by anyone’s standards, “some super heroes take care after kids and old people, I, however, tend to lean towards people drinking alone at the bar, really a less seen layer of the population,” Lydia added on the joke, not really sure if she was making any sense by now, but thankful that she would not have to be drinking alone. On normal days she didn’t mind, in fact, she enjoying coming over, grabbing a drink or two, eat something and go back home, but lately, all of her days had been far from normal, and she had been doing something she never used to do: drinking to forget, as opposed to drinking for the fun of it or how it made her more sociable.
The blonde observed as the other considered their options around the bar, taking the chance to take a few more sips of her drink as she waited for a choice. His response was unexpected in some ways, and she pursed her lips in consideration. “It’s not that you’ll get hit by a dart, it’s more along the lines of me definitely not being sober enough to ever hit the dart in the target, so if we really go to darts, I’d say that we make up our own rules, otherwise you’ll have me taking shots by the mile,” had it really taken her long to say that? Or had she been as fast as she thought she sounded? Who’s to say, at this point, Lydia just hoped she was making any sense at all. “We can play never have I ever, though, it’s harmless fun and if you did the thing, you take a shot, no need to explain the situation, unless you want to.”
Perfect. Lead into the trap. “I dare you to drink at least 3 8 ounce glasses of water before this night is over. I’ll help you start.” Tyson motioned to the bartender and ordered two glasses of water for the pair. It was only fair that he’d match her dare and hydrate alongside her. That and now that he had said it aloud, he couldn’t remember the last time he drank any water, if he had at all. The bartender placed the two glasses in front of them.
“Get to sippin,” he said before picking up the other glass and taking a long sip. The coolness of it chilled his chest. A welcomed feeling in the slightly hot bar. “Well, your turn to ask me.”
Lydia raised her eyebrow at the dare. “Really?” The blonde said, rolling her eyes and obviously not really interested in it, but shrugging and calling the bartender over again once he had left the glasses with them. “For every 8 ounce glass of water I drink, you fill it up with vodca, a rock of ice or two will suffice,” and she looked back a the man with a smile on her lips. It wasn’t a very good thing that he had an upper hand in the game, seeing how she would do her very best to avoid choosing truth, simply because she was not interested in revealing much of herself to a complete stranger. She took a sip of the water glass and made sure to screw up her face as if she was sipping on straight up lemon. “Gross,” the blonde pointed with a jokeful smile before taking her newly refilled glass of vodca and taking a longer sip. He was really unprepared for how much she thought she needed to sustain her buzz.
“No more water allowed, you have your rules and I have mine, also—” Lydia pursed her lips for a moment, “if you deny to answer a question or to do a dare, you have to take a shot, it’s only fair,” she pointed out before clearing her throat. “So, truth or dare?”
It takes everything in Georgina to not blame herself for the lack of reciprocation from Lydia now. Had the terms of their dynamic been different, opposite of their mother-daughter approach, she wouldn’t be feeling all sorts of agonization or fright at the moment as she holds the lifeless form in the enfold. Yet, it begins to climb further to the surface the longer they remain in this hold, and well after the moment, the blonde begins to shimmy herself away from the other. All she can feel is her heart drop to her stomach, the uncharacteristic feeling of her features pinching together, and lastly, the sense of two bodies gluing themselves to their mother’s legs like sloths as this abrupt halt in their return back to Ventura perplexed them.
If it hadn’t been for the stream of actions unfolding, the brunette wouldn’t have retrieved back to the present. She’d remain fixed in wonder. Calculating their last interaction on how airy and joyful, they had been ─ going back to their yoga session at Carmichael Roses later that week and showing everyone that a fart could’ve happened to anyone. They laughed so hard that it felt like the muscle in her stomach toned themselves before the Mexico trip. It was full of bliss that she wishes, let alone could gather any ounce of insight, on what happened when they briefly separated. Could it have been her schedule and the frequent visits to Los Angeles? Geo doesn’t think she’s managed to ignore anyone, only taking a couple of hours longer than usual to respond to any messages or phone call, for that matter. Not like she would ever be the kind of person she is, but her mind is growing blank on reasons.
Or it could be similar to her own downfall roughly eight years ago: her postpartum depression after giving birth to Asher. Initially, warning signs about a potential disconnection came only two weeks into being a mother as a cataract of tears overtook her. Eventually, the incidents due to her symptoms of depression became unpredictable. Making a joyous celebration of a new life depending on her comes off as a chore and the last thing she’s wanted ─ though, it was far from the case because motherhood is all she’s ever wanted. Nevertheless, the helix of her own life and pastime is something she knows all too well. One day you’re okay and enough to keep your head afloat, and the next day, things can tip you over like the infamous iceberg that took the Titanic down.
It’s the unpredictability of the world, and this is what she suspects is happening to Lydia currently. This sight of a young woman is unrecognizable to the point of exhaustion, causing her features to look sullen in the dim light and enough to alert Geo about the foul smell of liquor lingering on the other’s body and clothes. It’s a corpse barely functioning and waiting for the last pin to drop: whatever it may be.
I’m fine. Words penetrate the silence malfunction in convincing her, making it known by the firm shake her head to dismiss the false belief. “Ly,” Clearing her throat, hazel optics peer down to the ash-blond lock of Asher’s head before diverting to Joanna’s inky strands in a ballerina bun as Geo carefully chooses her words to avoid a scene. “It’s not like you to ignore calls or messages,” she begins gently, “Unless you’ve been busy, which I can understand… happens to the best of us.” And she understands as life is unpredictable. Nothing is one hundred percent certain. “But I don’t…. think you look fine ─ or alright; however, you want to call it for that matter. Have you been sleeping?”
Or foremost, taking care of yourself in ways like water, enjoying the growing Catalina summer rays, going on walks to clear her mind, spending time with others in comparison to the scent of whatever liquor she’s been drowning herself in.
But, Geo bites down on her bottom petal, suppressing one too many questions coming to the surface because it’s undemanding of her to put her maternal hat on. It’s a title she wore from the age of four as the eldest Livingston was greeted with a sibling. She was too young to do the chores of changing her brother’s diaper or putting away. But, her hazel optics glued on him to make sure no harm could come his way. If someone wanted to get to Gabe, they’d have to go through the young girl first ─ solidify how much it means for her to care and be everyone’s saving grace. “Oh,” It comes out in a dumbfounded tone and widens optics, aware the kids will be listening in to the conversation. So her words are chosen carefully, teeth clenching together: “Did you make sure those men learned their lesson through a bucket of water or a little splash in their faces?” Suppose that could be a reason, willing to play along for the sake, but her gut-intuition alerts her profusely.
Before anything else could be said, specifically on her behalf, Joanna’s perky childlike falsetto comes to life: We just had dinner at Marlins, a momentarily pause from her daughter before continuing with a widening smile, We just came back from Mexico and were lazy to cook… I think mommy has a gift for you too. And Geo certainly does, indicating a nod and a hand planting itself on her daughter’s chest to pat it lightly as a thank you for the assistance. “Jojo is right, I do have something for you.”
It’s not like she meant to disappear.
It’s not like she meant to go three weeks with her phone off and completely disconnected from the world.
It pained her that she had worried anyone. The screaming concern written on Georgina’s features is enough for her to feel the recognizable sinking on the pit of her stomach, making her feel bad about everything that had transpired, and incredibly unworthy at the same time.
She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t want this.
If people didn’t care about her, just how easier things would have been?
The past three weeks were a blur in the blonde’s mind. She had been careless to the point where she had promised herself never to be. Where she had been and who she had been with were questions as unanswerable as where do we come from and where do we go to. She had walked away from the hospital that Monday and at the same time, Lydia had walked away from herself. It almost angered her that other people felt entitled to feel worried about her, about her life, and her well-being. It didn’t make sense. What was about her that was so important? So vital to their lives? What was about her that made her earn a spot inside their mind, no matter how small? What was it about her that others saw and her mother had never seen?
Lydia had grown up under the tutelage of someone who should never have been considered fit for parenthood. She couldn’t remember a time where Thomas Beckett had been gentle towards her, or her sisters for that matter. He was angry, he was violent, and he knew all too well how to show it. Lydia had survived up until she was 18. Hiding away in Eleanor’s house or the school when she needed safe spaces to be. Hoping to get home after Thomas had slept so she could walk him by and pretend she was never home to begin with. She considered so many times to just pack her bags and leave, but who would she belong to if she did that? She excused a lot of his mistakes for the genetic bond that bound them together and the fact that Catherine had left them both. She never told anyone because she was aware that most people would feel it to be wrong, but he looked kind when he slept. Without a worry inside his busy brain and no trace of the nasty alcohol on him. People wouldn’t understand that in those small moments, she really did feel as if she had a father, so she never told them. Now, the blood that Lydia used to think to bind them together, didn’t exist anymore and in its place, left a gaping hole of what ifs, and what could have beens.
On April 13th she had woken up inside the dingy motel room she occupied without a trace of memory inside her mind. A small, blissful window where nothing had changed. Where the man in the hospital was still her father. Where she hadn’t already said terrible things to other people, or behaved lousily because she had been so filthy drunk she had lost control. She didn’t have that anymore. Every single ounce of control she thought to have conquered over the years was now all gone. Everything. Gone. Just like she wanted to be. How could she explain that to anyone?
She recognized Georgina’s tone. She pressed her lips together and instead of speaking anything, Lydia nodded at the question. Technically she had been sleeping, it wasn’t a lie, she just couldn’t remember when it was the last time she had winked for longer than an hour or two before nightmares took over. Trauma was a funny thing, wasn’t it? Her life had been going in a straight line and it only took one curveball to make it all go array. Lydia chewed on the inside of her cheek, wanting to look anywhere but the woman’s hazel hues. This wasn’t the time nor the place to be breaking down all over Georgina, after all, her kids were there, and if she did, Lydia didn’t think she would ever be able to look them in the eyes, ever again. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” she repeated, assuring, echoing her own thoughts and wishes. She just wanted to be fine. Lydia put her now shaking hands inside of the pockets of her coat, wanting desperately for Georgina to believe her words, but thinking it to be next to impossible. “I-- I’ve been having a little trouble sleeping, but it’s nothing too serious, just a restless writer’s brain,” the blonde shrugged, hoping that would take the importance away from the whole ordeal. After all, it would hardly be the first time she lost sleep over something.
Georgina was kind to worry, but she also didn’t need. She shouldn’t have. She had the her whole world wrapping their small arms around her legs. It was a world where Lydia didn’t belong. She smiled at the brunette’s remark, but it was a dull and unflattering smile. Lydia felt far from the sunshine she deemed the brunette in front of her to be. Far from a shining constellation too. At that moment she felt almost as heavy as a rock and as dull as one too, without any of the benefits. “Something like that,” she tried, not even bothering to sell the lie, because they both could see it in Lydia’s eyes that she had not let anyone have it. The moment they were sharing was making her feel so vulnerable, the blonde needed to take another step back, just to give some more space between the two of them, but also took it as a chance to look at Joanna when she had spoken.
It pained to see Joanna so hidden behind her mother’s legs, just like Asher was now. Lydia didn’t have that many interactions with them, actually going over Georgina’s place very few times compared to their weekly encounter at Carmichael Roses for morning yoga sessions and coffee or green juice after. The times she had met with the two of them, however, were happy times. Joanna had once said she looked just like Cinderella, Elsa or Sleeping Beauty in the Disney movies, because of her blonde hair, constrasting Georgina’s Belle looks and her Snow White or Anna, though that had ensued a whole long debate over which princess was the very best and they had settled for Moana, even though they had soon talked it over and decided that maybe Moana shouldn’t be considered in the same level as the others, she was definitely a level more because she didn’t need a prince, and didn’t even marry. Asher was a whole other deal, he always talked to her freely, but once or twice he had blushed and it took Lydia a longer time to get him to warm up. She wasn’t a stranger to taking care of kids, she did take care of Declan, after all, and the mere sight of Asher and Joanna made her want to know how the boy was. She called in with Holly every once in a while, she knew she needed to come back to work sooner rather than later, she just didn’t know if she was ready to resume her life right now.
“She did?” Fuck, she remembered now. She had missed Geo’s birthday entirely. She knew there was something important she had been forgetting, but with her phone off, she didn’t have access to her schedule, she had noted there, to buy Geo’s present, and she had never did. In fact, money was already running low as she had refused to let Holly pay for her leave since she was taking longer than she had expected to. Lydia didn’t crouch to speak to Joanna, fearing that the young girl would smell the alcohol in the clothes and in her breath, that was something she hoped the young brunette would never be exposed to, but the same way her interaction with Joanna had started, it had soon ended when Georgina confirmed her daughter’s words. “You— uhm— you really didn’t have to, Geo,” it wasn’t her to dismiss, and she truly hoped that Georgina wasn’t expecting her to go and pick it up now. “Did you guys have fun? Was Mexico any better than Catalina?” Firing questions was the best way she thought at keeping questions from turning to her as she knew Georgina want to. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t call, I do have your present back at home and I didn’t know you’d be back by now, otherwise I’d have gone to give it to you.”
Lie.
All of her mornings started after a poorly slept night. Lydia couldn’t quite remember what had happened and while it didn’t seem to bother her anymore, there were about a million things going inside her mind at every waking hour of the day. She understood the need for numbness which made people seek harder substances to get them there, but she was determined not to follow that path. By that morning, the flaring pain that had followed her for over two weeks now felt like a dull ache, permanently branded inside her and making the air inside her lungs feel like fire. On the outside, however, the blonde looked positively unbothered. It made her wonder if she would ever just feel fine again.
It was funny though, how she had successfully avoided many of the people she considered to be friends just by turning her phone off. As suspected, and as it should — when she had first decided to not contact anyone in her surroundings — life moved on. It was good, though, she didn’t want anyone worrying over her without having to, right? No one needed to bask in her misery and contrary to popular belief, she didn’t think she needed any company. This wasn’t a shared experience.
That morning in particular, Lydia felt as if she was having an outer body experience. Her exhaustion was felt to the bone and the Irish coffee was doing little as a pick me up. Things happening outside the coffee shop didn’t seem to attract her like they used to and it was easy to see, by the looks of the sunken dark circles under her eyes that the blonde desperately needed a week worth of sleep, but it never really came, no matter how hard she closed her eyes. All other voices faded in the background as she tried to remember why she was there in the first place. Looking up at the sight of the waitress approaching her table, but not really saying anything as the woman refilled her mug with a worried look on her face.
Bootlegger’s had become her second home by then. She had come religiously. Daily, ever since she had found out her father was not really her father. It had taken just about everything in her to rid herself of that information. Drinking into oblivion and knocking out for a couple of hours before her newfound therapy started again.
Lydia would hardly argue with anyone to the point of saying that she was right, or that it was a healthy alternative. She was wrong and it wasn’t— but it sure beat sitting down in an office pouring her heart out to someone who didn’t even know her. It wasn’t healthy, by any means, and it didn’t need someone very observant to see what it was doing with her. She was thinner, she looked exhausted and inside? She constantly felt on the breaking point. That’s where alcohol came in. It had become a crutch of sorts, something she had been leaning on to while she didn’t want to lean on other people. It made her feel nothing and it made her fun... somehow.
She couldn’t really remember which shot that was or what time had she arrived there, but there was a crowd cheering her as she out-drank the man across from her, slamming the beer mug on the wooden counter as the crowd all but erupted in cheers. Or maybe it was just her head. Now she needed to pee, and while she was already wobbly on her feet, Lydia managed to make her way to the less than clean bathroom in that busy night at Bootlegger’s. Once she flushed and pushed the door open, she was entrapped against the wall by two strong arms, she frowned and looked up, was that the dude from yesterday? “Let me go,” she tried to push him away, but he was saying things she couldn’t really understand and her fists were all but ineffective against him.
“How do you tell people? How do you tell them that you’re exhausted even though you slept for 10 hours? How do you tell them that you need a break from talking and smiling and simply being near them? How do you tell them that although you love them, you so desperately need to be alone tonight?”
— Midnight thoughts (I’m burnt out)
The hurt inside outweighed all the other feelings that was coursing through her body right now. Like it or not, they were open books to one another. Whether they wanted to be placed in such vulnerable predicament or not, that was what they signed up for, being best friends with over two decades of friendship under their belts. But that promise was broken over the course of these three weeks, which only shot a pang of hurt on the inside further.
The thing was, people always came and go in her line of profession, but it was those that she deemed closest to her that stung the most when they left her out in the open, with another open wound for her to tend to. It was Robert first, then last year it was her father. Never did she think, Lydia would shut her out, leaving her on the outside. It’d stung more, because this was the woman that endured every hardship with her together. Forcing her way into her life when Eleanor so wanted to be left alone, only to crumble into her arms within seconds to meeting each other’s gaze.
Yet, Ellie couldn’t help but feel like she was completely shut out right now. The sight of Lydia only terrified her furthermore when she couldn’t get a read of what was going through her mind right now.
Her mind raced a thousand miles per hour as the two women stood there, the welcoming atmosphere that often found in her best friend shifted into something that haunted her. Like a nightmare came true, causing her to believe that maybe she wasn’t deserving of anyone to remain permanent in her life. That doubt never, ever came up in her mind throughout their friendship these years, but in this moment, it finally arose. The thought alone caused her stomach to sink, a sense of nausea slowly creeping up her throat.
But she wasn’t going to leave Lydia without putting up a fight, no matter how much the blonde attempted to push her away. As her hazel hues surveyed the sight before her, Ellie noted that vibrant colour of life vanished before her eyes, and if anything, her concern deepened regarding her wellbeing at this moment in time. She was no doubt thinner, fatigue evident all over her features. She would know, because she’d been relying on medication for a good night’s rest in the past year. She knew just too well that something had gone terribly wrong, but it was the reason behind it that left her dumbfounded, as her mind continued to come up empty as to what caused this behaviour to occur.
Perhaps it petrified her furthermore that Eleanor had never witnessed this sight of Lydia before her, only cementing her assumption that something awful happened. Her brows creased towards the centre of her face, as she waited, almost impatiently for her response. It felt like an eternity, before she stumbled over her words, inevitably emitting a scoff to fall from her lips, indicating that she was not for a second believing her half-hearted reply. “Bullshit,” The words slipped from her lips without thinking. No matter how busy their schedules were, they would always make time for each other. Which made her lame excuse even worse.
It only added fuel to the fire when Lydia’s latter remark just came out so nonchalantly. With that, Eleanor couldn’t hold back her anger anymore, as the words came rushing out before she could stop them. “Nothing I need to worry about? You gave me radio silence for three weeks, Beck. That’s three weeks too long. We never do that each other. We never take time off from each other. Not to mention you look like crap, which doesn’t make a convincing case that nothing has happened.” Her upset was evident in her tone, tears welled up in her eyes as she turned away for a brief moment, falling to her golden retriever to blink them away. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a deep breath, before she faced her best friend again. It took her another long stretch of silence before she tried to recollect herself again, the worrying sight of Lydia finally caused her gaze to soften, knowing that her anger was not going to coax out the reasoning behind the blonde’s behaviour in the past three weeks. “What happened, Beck? And don’t tell me nothing again, because something is clearly wrong.” A sigh fell, as the next words only pained her to utter them out loud. “I never thought I’d need to tell you this, but you know you can trust me, right?”
Being under Eleanor’s scrutiny felt uncomfortable and her words made Lydia unwillingly and mindlessly flinch, as though she had felt tiny sharp blades poking her skin. This would be the perfect moment, wouldn’t it? To just let it all out, to tell her the one small detail that had changed her life so much she had been questioning just about everything she had lived before.
She remembered the countless times she so easily leaned on Eleanor. The times when she felt suffocated at home and even when she was away with Daniel. Every tragedy, just as every smile was shared and those moments were not the only ones that founded their friendship. There was nothing that could keep them away from one another. Eleanor was right, those were three weeks too long in their shared timeline. Eleanor was more than just a friend, Eleanor was her sister and right now, more than ever, Lydia knew that being related by blood hardly meant a thing.
It would be easy, far too easy, to just crumble down there. Her knees would easily buckle under the weight of an exhausted body. Eleanor was right in her observations, it was clear that something was wrong with Lydia — even clearer that a lot was, but how to put that into words? How to tell her best friend that knowing the man lying on that hospital bed wasn’t her father had made her feel even smaller? She thought she had accepted the fact that her mother left and left her behind, but now she was dealing with something completely new— Christine had left her with a total stranger. How did she turn her life around from that? How? How did she made sense of the abuse suffered under the hand of a man who wasn’t even her father?
Lydia didn’t find her voice. She hated upsetting Eleanor. That look on her face. She knew her best friend so much and so deeply she had memorized how her expression lightly screwed whenever she was about to cry and it was like Lydia could physically feel her own heart break. They had been through so much, they had cried a lot of times together, but she never thought she’d make Eleanor cry. It wasn’t a matter of pushing her away willingly, it was a matter of saving Eleanor from her misery. Of once in her life not dumping it all on her best friend and trying to deal with things on her own, no matter how much of a bad job she was doing. The funny thing was, Lydia knew — and she didn’t even have to search very deep for that information — that if roles were reversed, she would have swiped the entire island already until she found Ellie and not back down until she had the truth.
She was sorry. She was so sorry.
Where the hell were those words?
Eleanor’s last affirmation sounded more like a question and felt like Lydia had been pushed off the edge of a precipice. Her heart hammered so hard against her chest it was slowly becoming harder to breathe and she didn’t need to have another fit of panic. Not there. Not right now. It would be much more comfortable if she was in her motel room, alone, dealing with this alone. Fuck, it was the one thought she could fish out from the million others swirling inside her head. The pit of her stomach twisted in several knots and her hands shook, her heart would not calm down. It would just not calm down. Maybe if she could get herself to be rude to Eleanor, to tell her she did not want nor cared for her friendship, the brunette would calm down, but how could she? How could she deny that if there was anyone capable of saving her from the hole she had dug herself in, that person would be Eleanor?
The same person who had done that for her many times.
Lydia opened her mouth, but no sound came from it.
She didn’t even realize tears were rolling down her eyes until it she felt their salty taste on her tongue and it hit her before she could get a hold of herself.
“Ellie— I—” She couldn’t breathe. Lydia couldn’t breathe. She had been afraid of the day where that whole thing would finally swallow her whole and apparently it only took looking at Eleanor and having to confront the only person who could see inside her soul. Her tears were quick to turn into sobs and she felt her entire body trembling. Her shaking hands cared little about what she had been carrying and the contents had spilled on the floor. She tried her best to concentrate, to pull the air through her nose and out her mouth, but her body was unresponsive. Lydia had absolutely no control over it and had she not been feeling numb, she would be hating this lack of control.
Her hands reached for Eleanor’s, wanting desperately to grasp into reality. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” were the mumbling words, tripped only when an overwhelming sob rocked through her body. Her sight was blurred and Lydia did her best not to give in the panic attack. It had been so long since she had one of those she had forgotten how to pull herself from them. She knew she needed to before her body gave out, before the darkness circled her. She could feel people around her, but she couldn’t do anything, the only thing tethering her to reality was Eleanor’s hand. “Please don’t leave me, I can’t do this alone,” the blonde begged, words she knew might not make sense when said out loud.
Coming off the high of the family’s Mexico trip will take time for Georgina and the kids to adjust. Going away for a week, relishing in the finer things around their disposable and days free of complications lounging by the pool as sandy complexion gather rays, went to their heads. It’s a high that will take to come down from. It may not happen in the new week as she jumped from seven days of nothing to a plethora of responsibilities awaiting her attention. These feelings were bound to happen sooner than later. Though, for a moment, the immaculate vibes and relaxation that’s settled upon her former stressed frame will enough this energy for another moment longer.
It’s why tonight, the kids and she decided to opt-out of creating a homecooked assemble ─ though it will happen soon enough as they’ll need to return to a routine soon. They agreed on dinner elsewhere tonight; Geo let the kids make a final decision as they swiped around on Yelp to find a suitable option for their young taste buds and items that would satisfy their mother’s vegetarian lifestyle. It took twenty minutes, roughly because she wasn’t counting or anything, before declaring that Marlin’s would be dinner.
As the clock struck six that evening, the three of them requested a hushed corner in the establishment unfamiliar to her. It had been years since she stepped foot into Marlins. Not for the reason of any specific dislike, but rather the opposite ─ her homebody, hostess nature, and the evident exhaustion settling all over her after a workday makes it arduous in wanting to re-go back out when she wants nothing more to stay in her yoga pants and an oversized hoodie. Nevertheless, tonight, each focal point of the nearby surroundings captures her attention: an intriguing jazz playlist and the recent sea mural on the opposite wall of the establishment.
All minuscule details gave the restaurant from her pastime a crisp remodel on an inexpensive budget. Making the hour of indulgence, laugh, dessert (since the kids pulled the sugary treat with puppy eyes and that alone is Geo’s frailty as a whole), before the evening of enjoyment declared a direct trip back home.
Though, when the honey-kissed brunette left Marlins with high spirits and kids singing an unfamiliar jazz melody to her, the last thing she expected is to run into Lydia. Who vanished into thin air, blanketed all of her text messages in the previous weeks, and made her try to understand since things were going well between their dynamic post the yoga session. However, all of the worries that captured her wondering what happened to the blonde loosened up by sight alone. This was good she was here ─ a positive. Though the glaze and lack of life occupying the other seafoam optics indicates, she went through the wringer. Or is currently.
It’s why her maternal instinct came into full force less than a second later by pulling the other into a hug without permission. She didn’t know what else to do. The action alone felt proper and necessary to the certain disconnection. “It’s fine you never have to apologize to me, Ly,” Silvery falsetto reassures in a whisper, witnessing Asher and Joanna in the mere distance standing there and watching full of curiosity. “Are you okay?”
Yet, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize something isn’t okay, as there’s a gnawing feeling surfacing in her stomach. But, she isn’t going to assume. If, and hopefully the blonde knows there’s a safe space with Geo, then she’ll assist in every way possible.
Georgina’s motherly tone struck a chord within Lydia she wasn’t ready for. The hug wasn’t reciprocated like the other times when she would hold onto the other woman like a lifeline, and before she could even realize what she was doing, Lydia carefully shimmied out of the brunette’s embrace, desperately needing to put some distance between the two of them. She hoped that Georgina wouldn’t take her actions to heart. She wouldn’t need many words to explain it either, it all came down to one fact.
She didn’t want a mother right now.
Georgina had been a representative of what a mother could be since Lydia had known her. Her natural warmth, the way that it was easy to feel comforted when around her, and how Lydia wanted to constantly take up on the woman’s offer to be a shoulder to cry on or to be someone she could just be around of easily. Lydia didn’t want that right now and it mostly had to do with the anger she had been nurturing over Catherine. Knowing that Thomas was not her father had ripped open a lot of old wounds and Lydia’s early referral of what a mother could be, came rushing to the forefront of her brain. She didn’t want a mother right now.
With a small step back, Lydia wrapped her arms around herself and sighed, she gripped herself so hard it could be interpreted as her trying to hold herself together, and it wouldn’t be wrong. She looked down at her feet for a moment, knowing she had yet to reply to Georgina’s question, but the way the other’s gaze fell on Lydia made her feel all kinds of exposed and vulnerable, making her mindlessly shrink. Thankfully she had superficial problems that she could easily lay on Georgina and hope they would be distracting enough to keep her away from digging for the whole truth. Lydia was unsure at that moment if running into Geo first had been better than running into Eleanor first, or if the other way around would be make her break down faster. Both of them had such ways of looking at the blonde that made her want to just pour her heart out to them. She wasn’t ready for it. Not today.
“I’m fine,” the lie left a sour taste in her mouth, but she would continue to lie through her teeth if it meant she could keep Georgina from looking at her the same way she always did when she spoke of her father.
Wait.
Father cannot be the right term for Thomas at that point.
She took in a deep breath thoughts swirling around inside her mind as her eyes fell on both Asher and Joanna. The sight of them made her smile. A small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, but a smile nonetheless, and Lydia considered that to be progress. With a blink she was back looking at Geo. “You know, end of the happy hour and uhm—” how could she put that lightly and kid friendly? “—men wanting to stick their hands where they don’t belong,” she passed a hand through her hair while trying to sell the story as the whole reason for her appearing upset. Lydia was not the best actress, even she knew that, but she was desperate, she didn’t want to talk about herself now. How could she distract Georgina without revealing much about what she had been dealing with for the past three weeks?
The kids.
“What are you guys doing out?” Lydia asked, quickly diverting the conversation from herself and onto Georgina. She noticed the takeout bags in hand and how expectant both children looked. She liked them, and the sight of them made her miss Declan terribly. What the fuck was she doing?
He laughed slightly. “I’m not one to lecture anyone. I’m just saying that maybe a little water would do you good. Not necessarily sober you up but at least hydrate you a little.” Tyson shrugged before taking a sip of his whiskey sour. It was weird being on this end of the conversation. It was only a few years ago that he was in her place and random strangers we’re trying to get him to come down from whatever he was on. That or encouraging and taking advantage of the state he was in. Tyson could vaguely remember the mornings waking up in a strangers bed and the hallow feeling he felt as he crept away.
A sigh parted his lips at the mention of ‘looking for someone else’. Tyson wasn’t an idiot. He knew how terrible of an idea it was to leave a woman in her state alone, especially in a bar like Bootleggers. There was no way that he, in good conscience, do that. Tyson was going to be the safest person she could be with at this point. “Fine. Let’s play truth or dare. I have only one rule and one caveat for this game. The rule, whatever you choose, you have to follow through with it not matter what. The caveat, you have to follow through no matter what unless it is dangerous and life threatening. You first. Truth or dare.”
That wasn’t Lydia speaking. Sort of. She didn’t do that. She didn’t get drunk or beg people to drink with her. She never even went to a bar alone, unless she was getting takeout or something; but how was she supposed to explain that to a complete stranger? The way her drunk brain was thinking at that moment, she just didn’t want to drink alone, like she had done the past few days, like she had been doing for the past few hours ever since happy hour drinks were announced. It maybe transparent that she was drinking with a cause, and she didn’t mind, she just didn’t want to do it alone. Her eyes narrowed a bit at the suggestion of hydrating a bit— and it was funny because she was more than aware that it was a good idea, but it didn’t mean it was a path she wanted to steer her boat in. “There’s ice in my vodka, isn’t it water enough?” She pointed with a raised eyebrow before taking a long sip of her drink and halving it.
Her drunken state didn’t let her hide the excitement at an agreement, the blonde clapped her hands in front of her and adjusted herself on her seat so she could pay her best attention at whatever the man was talking about, but it was like her brain had lost interest after the word rules and only rebooted once he said she would go first. “You know what, it’s been a fucking while since I played truth or dare,” she was in high school, maybe? Or was it spin the bottle? She’d have to ask Eleanor later. “I will choose... dare,” her hand lightly wrapped around the transparent glass as she looked at the other with excitement and expectation, there was no way she’d choose truth and risk him asking deep stuff, there was no way her brain would be able to lie with how she is drunk.
Why am I sober? Jack asked his reflection early in the day, staring blank faced back into his own eyes. It feels like torture, the question at hand. It rattles around his brain like a marble and Jack can’t quite find an answer. So it continues to clink against his skull and the noise feels very real. The emotions it brings feel just the same. Deafening and sincere.
It’s a question he assumes all addicts face at some point. Perhaps this was the part of his story where he falls from the wagon again and rolls around in the dirt for the sake of doing so, for the selfish reasons he always found. That’s how it worked, it seemed. A cycle. Patterns. And he’s staring it down.
Then, a familiar voice, which makes him jump from his skin. The singer does what he can to gather his composure, but he’s a little like a bull in a tea shop. He clears his throat, a subtle yet nervous smile gracing his expression. “Not drinking but alone, yes.” Jack muses with a teasing tone, laughter tearing from his dry throat. He needed a drink in general, whether alcohol or not. “I’m trying out exposure therapy.” Jack explains with a swat of his hand, motioning to the drinks and drunken strangers surrounding them. That was a good excuse, at least. He was lying again, though, which was never a great sign.
Jack nudges Lydia’s shoulder. Despite all his inner turmoil, he was happy to see her. It had been a while. “Either way, I’m always happy to have you as company, Lydia.” He says, leaning in a little. “I’ll play a game but I’ll just have to be the uh, sad sober companion, though.” He adds, calling down the bartender and ordering himself a coke. This was another kind of torture. “How do we play?”
Fuck.
It’s Jack.
Her mind momentarily shuts down when she realizes it, his voice bringing her back to reality in ways she did not want to be.
She doesn’t want him to see her like that. Thrown to the wind, carelessly, trying to drown out her sorrows in as much alcohol as she can get her hands on. She’s ashamed for a moment. Her mouth closes, the smile fades and her stance shrinks under his gaze. She didn’t want to bump into anyone who knew her, especially the way Jack knew her. He had been one of the few people who had see her writing— but they haven’t seen each other in a while, even before she knew that her father wasn’t her father.
Lydia attempts miserably to regain her posture, to put back the smile on her face with a timid sip of her vodka on the rocks. Her mind is fuzzy, but not even a fuzzy mind can keep her from observing him. What was he even doing sitting there? Oh, exposure therapy, he had said and her brain only registered at that moment. Was she staring? Maybe she was staring. Okay, she needed to look away. Fuck.
She needed another sip. A longer one this time. She didn’t know how many seconds of silence had transpired between them as she attempted to regain control of her brain, if just a little bit. She was ashamed to have been caught red handed, it was more than noticeable that she wasn’t there having fun, otherwise she wouldn’t be there alone. “Sorry,” she told him, finally, “I swear my brain was still registering that it was you,” she attempted a small grin when she looked back at him, but didn’t know how it had come off, she bit on the inside of her bottom lip for a moment as she considered her options.
“You don’t have to humor me, you know?” Her speech was slurred, she felt a small pang at her heart at the possibility of roping Jack into her mess. “I don’t— I don’t even have a game in mind, really. My mind was going towards silly ones, you know, never have I ever, truth or dare, or even pool, really. I’m just... drinking alone really sucks.”
Eleanor and Lydia were attached at the hips since anyone could remember; even as they embarked into adulthood, metaphorically, the sentiment never changed for a day. Just a text message to one another would suffice to indicate that they were both well and alive, although more often than not, even with years passed by between them, they never, ever ran out of things to talk about.
The first day didn’t bother Ellie; the brunette had been in and out of meetings all day, and she wondered if the same happened with Lydia too. Although the thought was in the back of her mind, she silenced it when she finally made it home and passed out on her bed. But then the pattern occurred again, over and over, for three weeks. The first week had been hell, because she was worried that she had said or done something wrong. Replaying their last conversation in her mind, it was nothing but mindless chatter. Nothing concrete enough that would upset Lydia. Checking her ‘find my friend’ app didn’t help either, because she only found her best friend’s location vanishing on her screen.
Then the second, anger began to creep inside her being, her foul mood from the radio silence that Lydia gave her was enough for her to impulsively show up to Lydia’s place, only to find herself knocking on the front door before giving up. Stubbornly, a part of her wanted to give the blonde a taste of her own medicine, but that didn’t stop her from checking her phone every hour. It wasn’t as though she slept through the night without the aid of medicine in the past year, but with the fatigue combined, Eleanor found herself jittery with irritation and impatience as the week went by.
Then the third week, Eleanor was ready to call out a search party and report to the police about a missing person’s case. If it hadn’t been for friends and family telling her that they’d seen the blonde around the island, she would’ve done so sooner. Which only deepened her anger, because it seemed as though Lydia just was avoiding her.
Eleanor was out trying to take her mind off the silence that fell upon her life recently, her golden retriever tugging her along rather than the other way around for once, when she caught a flash of blonde hair in her peripheral vision. Stopping dead in her tracks, Ellie stood, almost expectantly at the entrance of Antonio’s until her best friend finally noticed her. Lips pursed in a thin line at her greeting, her arms crossed over her chest as hazel hues scanned over the blonde’s features. The sight of her alone only increased her worry, but it was her anger that surfaced first. “Hi? Is that all you have to say after ignoring me for three weeks? What the hell, Beck?”
Lydia never wished more to disappear out of thin air.
The look on Eleanor’s face said a lot about their current situation. She had never been the one to hide her feelings from her best friend and yet, that’s exactly what had happened before she could even notice it had been happening. Lydia was disappointed in herself, but it hurt eons more that Eleanor could also be.
She wasn’t sure what she could say to make it better. Probably nothing at all. She wasn’t sure if an apology was enough, she wasn’t sure if grovelling at Eleanor’s feet would be enough. She had turned her phone off and decided not to give her best friend a chance to know even if she was alive during these past three weeks. She wanted to, at least tell her that she had been breathing, because she didn’t feel much alive. The more Lydia scattered her exhausted brain for something to say, the more she came out empty handed.
If she was being completely honest, she would say that she wanted to just abandon the pizza box right there and run for the hills without telling her anything. Just brush past Eleanor and not give her answers, but Ellie didn’t deserve that, and sure as hell she didn’t deserve the person Lydia was being right now. It was strange to know that in other life altering moments Eleanor had been the first one she ran to, even when Daniel was trying to keep them apart, but just this one, Lydia had never felt more alone and it wasn’t anybody’s fault but her own.
She had tried before, believe it or not. She had stared at her phone for long minutes, wanting to dial Ellie’s phone number and tell her the whole thing, but she couldn’t. Her breathing would become erratic and she’d throw the device across the small motel room she had been renting. There was something in her that didn't want the comfort and felt like she didn’t deserve it, something in her that just wanted to ride the pain, some twisted part of her felt like it was exactly what she needed to put things in perspective. Her whole life had been one massive lie. How did she just open her mouth and tell her best friend that?
As she looked at Eleanor, she wondered if best friend was a term she could still use. The silence lingered, so tense it could be cut with a knife. Lydia couldn’t find her voice. She felt small, she felt insignificant, she felt... wrong. She couldn’t handle Eleanor’s burning gaze, so she looked away. It was clear that the small brunette wanted answers she didn’t know she could give. She needed the right words so she could speak with her properly, but could she find them? Could she say them without completely breaking down the way she had completely avoided for these past few weeks?
There was an inevitable turmoil inside her head as she tried to find what to say. Maybe she could start with an apology, but it didn’t really seem enough, even though it would have probably gone a long way, saying sorry didn’t feel right. Clearing her throat, teeth instantly hooking on the inside of her cheeks she felt a pang on the pit of her stomach. Lydia was nervous. How ridiculous was that? Her hands felt clammy and her system was sobering up against her will. “I…” she tried, her voice came out raspy, as if it had never been used before, and the more she wanted to look directly at Eleanor, she couldn’t, she stared at her feet. Still begging for some way to just run away.
“I’ve been busy,” she finally managed to say out loud, looking at her too. It wasn’t all a lie, “my phone broke,” but that was. Her voice came out flat and disinterested, and while she didn’t mean to, while she really wanted to give in and tell Eleanor everything, she was held back, as if someone had been holding her throat every time she wanted to spill. Still, she didn’t apologise. Part of her wanting Eleanor to badger her, and yell at her and throw all her frustrations at her just like she deserved. It was a shame that she thought that wouldn’t happen. “I’ve just been taking some time off, nothing you need to worry about.” Lydia pressed her lips together and held the rest of the words in, held in the part where she asked for Eleanor’s help because she was wasting herself away, held back the part where she was losing control and she didn’t know how to get back. Lydia swallowed back her tears and bit down on her tongue. There was nothing more she could do.
Routine. That was Tyson’s safety. While he had mentally been in a good spot for quite sometime, Tyson wasn’t one to tempt fate. He followed through with his routine’s on the daily, only staying from things in minor ways or changing up the actions with in his usual timeline. Instead of getting a vanilla iced latte at 10am, he’d buy a hazelnut one, but always at the same time and at the same coffee shop. Deviation was only welcomed when it was planned for or at his own discretion. The moment things felt like he had lost control, Tyson would face greater issues.
Tonight was one of those occasions. Tyson ritualistically visited Bootlegger’s on Sunday evenings with his best friend. A little pregame for the week ahead. However, after he had been there for 30 minutes, Daniel profusely apologized via text that he was “to engrossed in a spark of character development” and that Tyson would understand. Obviously he understood but that didn’t make him feel any better. An odd but familiar sense of disappointment filled the pit of his stomach. It took every bit of him to force the belief that it wasn’t personal onto himself.
“Huh?” his thoughts were broken by what he could only assume was going to be the start of an interesting night. While he thrived with structure, this was the sort of deviation Tyson could live with in moderation…maybe. Drunk people had a tendency to bring out the worse in him. “A game? From the looks of it, the only game you should be playing, at least to save tomorrow you, is fish and double fist some water.”
Lydia had long thrown moderation to the wind. Six days ago, to be more exact. Her buzz had been complimenting her restlessness which in turn had been complimenting her lack of desire to return to sobriety. It was one of the reasons why she had been choosing, every time she went out, to extend her nights as much as she possibly could, seeing as her mornings had become increasingly harder to deal with and not only for the inevitable hangover. Her mornings had recently been a mixture of guilt, anger and self-pity, all rolled up with the stench of alcohol that seemed to never leave the motel bed’s sheets. It was quite the place she had been occupying for the past six days, but as long as she could rest her head on something, she wasn’t caring if it was a fluffy pillow or a piece of hot coal.
Still, her evenings remained the same. Getting ready and hopping to the first bar she could encounter, drink enough to become sociable and rope someone into having her as company. It wasn’t uncommon at all to find people drinking in their lonesome, men, women, young and old. She was quick to come to the conclusion that as long as she offered the first drink, or some interesting suggestion, they’d be unable to deny her, and she was more than appreciative of that. At some point, the alcohol in her system made it impossible for her to ignore what her mind insisted on remembering but with the right company, she was distracted enough to drink herself into oblivion.
Her eyes raised at the other’s choice of words and she was thankful to be sitting down, otherwise she would have definitely wavered on her feet. With a small shake of her head, Lydia tickled her tongue. “Please, water sounds incredibly boring right now and not at all a game I’d be willing to play,” she waved her hand in front of the man’s face. “I’m talking about pool, truth or dare, never have I ever and the likes, but if you’re gonna lecture me, then I’ll happily look for someone else,” the blonde suggested with a shrug, hoping he wouldn’t send her away, but knowing that quite possibly he should do that.
If she is right (within mostly she was) her glass would be finished with the next three sips but Nic was nowhere to be finished with the script in her hands. The bootlegger’s pub - while may not seem like the ideal place to get work done - brings a sense of nostalgia that she enjoyed having when reading through a project for the first time. It was comfortable. In the beginning, she did not have an office or the structure they usufructs now, it was mostly reading working from old coffee places and bars like the bootlegger’s that the best ideas came.
Either that, or she was just romanticizing and picking the best parts of the past like everyone almost tends to do. It was a good break, anyway.
With one more sip, it’s only two more to go before she calls the night - especially when she is almost sure she has read through the same line for the third time. The papers then travel down to the bar counter when a hard knock on the wood calls her attention and she turns around when a voice beams in.
“Not sure —” Drinking alone would consist in her consuming something alcoholic? If that was so, then no. “Are you drinking alone? What’s the occasion?”
At that very moment, Lydia wasn’t exactly sure why she had tried the woman next to her.
Usually, in her nights, when asking for someone else’s company, Lydia was targeting people who wouldn’t be bored by her presence and who seemingly did not have anything better to be doing than wasting their nights away at a bar. It was the way she had met many unemployed folks, people with broken marriages or other broken relationships, not to mention downright addicts. Lydia didn’t remember most of them in the morning, somehow she made it to the motel and she had a sense that the reason was the bartender who had asked where she was staying the first night she showed up and started drinking her feelings away. Her pattern of company did not cater to the woman beside her, who seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, maybe even too good to be sitting down with someone as lost as she was.
These were just first impressions, however.
“Not sure if you wanna play a game or not sure if you’re drinking alone?”
Lydia finally said, slurred and sometimes slow words cutting through the busy background of Bootlegger’s. There were still quite a few patrons around, but the blonde knew it wouldn’t last for long. She sighed, although her attention span was horrible because of how inebriated she already was, but she was truly trying to keep her focus.
“I am drinking alone,” the blonde confirmed, “but do I really need an occasion for that? Being alive is reason alone,” she attempted a small smile, but was pretty sure she failed at it. “So, what’s it gonna be? Are you joining me?”
