“and you don’t know how you feel but you’re getting real close”—I Need You to Hate Me by JC Stewart
Lily
It’s been hours since Colin left me here all by myself.
He hasn’t sent me even just one text, didn’t even care to call me, not that he has to. Yet a quick notice that he’s okay, that he reached his destination in one piece would have been nice.
But I can’t blame him.
He loves me. That’s what he said, straight into my face.
And what did I do? I cried.
No one’s ever openly admitted to loving me. Never have I thought my first reaction to that kind of confession would be to cry.
And yet here I am. Hours later and still crying.
Although technically I still had enough time to get ready and attend at least my last few classes for the day, I decided against it. I didn’t feel like listening to my professors talking about the film industry—I still don’t.
Aaron hasn’t come home yet either. It’s past four and I know his classes—at least today’s classes—end shortly after two. So now I’m wondering if they have hockey practice, even though they have had one this morning.
Also, why haven’t I gone back to the dorms yet? Colin did say I’m free to go. So why do I stick around?
The texts I’ve allowed myself to send him have stayed unanswered, so I’m not even sure he truly wants me around still.
I go downstairs, Sergeant Froggo tugged in my arms, to get something to eat. My stomach has been growling for something to get inside of it for the past two and a half hours, I just never had the strength to get up.
Just when I reach the last step, the front door opens and Aaron marches inside. He’s alone, no signs of Colin whatsoever.
“Are you okay?” he asks first thing he spots me. His brows draw together, his head tilting slightly to the side as his eyes follow my figure from head to toe and back up. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
Maybe I do. I certainly feel like I haven’t.
After Colin left, I’m pretty sure I did nothing but roll over in his bed, crying, screaming, messing up my hair.
My eyes must still be puffy from all the crying, not that I ever truly stopped.
“Doing just great,” I lie. It’s a really bad lie. I don’t even sound convincing, nor do I look like I am close to being alright.
“Lily, what the hell happened?” Aaron doesn’t give me a chance to avoid him. He grabs my wrist, pulling me into the living room where we both take a seat on the couch.
I really don’t feel like talking, especially not to Aaron, not about Colin. But maybe Aaron knows more about where Colin is at than I do.
It’s truly a surprise to me. I’ve never been the one to care if someone doesn’t respond to my texts. But Colin ignoring each and every single one of them is so…not like him.
I am worried. Worried that something happened to him.
Maybe he’s gotten in an accident, being too much in his head to concentrate on the road.
“Did you have hockey practice?”
Aaron shakes his head no. “Was out with someone, getting some lunch. Practice had been called off a couple of hours ago.”
“But you had it this morning?”
“Nah,” he laughs. “I was home most of the morning. Didn’t leave until nine, when you were in the shower.”
Oh, so Colin lied to me about Aaron being at hockey practice. What else did he lie to me about?
“Coach sent a message early this morning, maybe at six, told us we’re off for the day—and the rest of the week—because of something going on at home. The guys think it’s a divorce, I highly doubt it. I think it’s Eira,” he tells me. The huge question mark on his forehead doesn’t go lost on me. “Didn’t Colin tell you any of this?”
It’s my time to shake my head.
“I wasn’t sure he would, to be honest. He’s definitely at home now. I mean, when it’s about Eira, he sure wouldn’t stay away.”
“I have no idea where he is, Ron.” I sigh. At least I now know he should be home with his parents and siblings. Still doesn’t help the fact that I’m not quite sure if he’s okay or not.
“Fell out with the boyfriend, huh?” He nudges my side with his elbow. “How bad is it? Do you need me to call your mother?”
I chuckle ironically, almost like a really soft snort. “Aaron, this woman, the one you rarely refer to as your mother, she hates me just as much as she hates you.”
He freezes. Aaron looks so lost, like he has no idea what I’m talking about. And he doesn’t, because I’ve never told him any of this.
And so I spend the next thirty minutes telling Aaron every single thing about our birth mother, everything about when she started to dislike me to the last encounter I’ve had with her. He doesn’t seem too surprised about it though.
“Dad kept in touch with her, you know.”
He did what?
“No, he didn’t.” I don’t believe a word.
“He did. Every Sunday, mom knew you were with us. Remember that day at court, when we were asked who we wanted to stay with? I chose dad, hoping you would too. You didn’t even choose one, you said both. Dad won custody over me, because I said I never wanted to stay with our mother, but they had shared custody over you.”
Does that even make sense? The judge could have chosen for me to stay with my father as well, or not?
“I could have chosen both as well, but I didn’t. I used to hear our mother talk on the phone, and whenever it was about you, she only ever said cruel things, complaining about your obsession with figure skating when you should be into princesses and whatever she considered girly. I was so mad at her at all times. I’ve never been surprised that she didn’t want to reach out to me.”
Why am I just learning about all this now?
“I don’t remember a lot from when we were four or five, or younger, but I do remember our mother saying those things in connection with your name. Every single skating lesson you’ve taken were paid by our father. Competition fees, mom didn’t pay as much as one dollar. Your college tuition, it’s all paid by dad, not one dollar is coming from her. Even the private high school we went to, she didn’t pay for. Dad tried to get you out of there for so long, but you always said you liked having both parents in your life. If you had, even just once, said you’d rather stay with dad, you would have been out of there.”
And like I haven’t just stopped crying twenty minutes ago, the tears are back.
At least my skin stays hydrated. More or less.
“Lily, you’ve always been that kind of person to make her life more complicated. I’m not sure why that is, but you have that talent. You come up with the most complex plans instead of just letting life take you where you belong. You came up with a plan to hide the fact that we’re twins, because God forbid our mother finding out you’re in touch with your own brother. When, by the way, by the time you turned eighteen, she couldn’t have told you to quit the contact to me even if she wanted to. You also tend to think you have to go through life on your own and refuse to get help.” Did Colin mention something?
“I know you’re allowed to skate,” he tells me. “I didn’t question it when you told me you’d quit skating with a lie. I did question why you’d want to stop though. I was certain it was about your mental health. I don’t know what it’s like to live with depression. I have no way of knowing what it does to you. I also didn’t want to force you to speak about it, so I just let it be and accepted your excuse.”
He takes my hand, giving it a light, comforting squeeze. “I know it’s getting worse, you’re getting worse. No idea how bad, but I know you’re not okay. Colin knows too, otherwise he wouldn’t have insisted on you staying here.”
“Wait, did Colin mention something?” I ask, feeling a wave of panic rush through my veins.
“He didn’t have to, Lily. I’m disappointed he didn’t say anything, but I’m almost ninety-nine per cent sure he didn’t because you forced him not to.”
When I meet his eyes, his are filled with pain, something I’ve never truly witnessed before. Whenever I thought he was hurt…this tops it.
“I’ve read your notebook,” he admits. Maybe my death will come earlier than expected. “You know, when you so desperately wanted it back.”
I nod, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. Which few pages he is talking about.
“At first, I thought it’s some kind of writing for a short movie you’re working on in class, a screenwriting practice perhaps. It didn’t look like one of those scripts though, yet I still didn’t think much of it. Until I’ve come to read the ‘Dear Ana’ pages. After we met up, and I was back home, I would start throwing pillows around the house in anger, frustration. I tried to come up with anything that would save you. For the next couple of days I would still try to figure out how to keep you alive. My only thought was to send you off to a mental hospital and get you the help you need. But I knew that’s something you’d hate me for, even if it would possibly save your life,” he tells me.
“It wasn’t until I noticed Colin getting closer to you, and you guys hanging out daily, Colin skipping practice, that I would finally shove the thought aside. He took you out to try and save your life, didn’t he?”
I nod, not being able to speak through my tears.
God, Aaron knew this whole time?
“How many days do you have left?”
“One and a half.” My voice is a whisper, weak and broken. I don’t even recognize my own voice.
“There’s nothing I can do, is there?” he asks with pain in his eyes, even in his voice.
I shake my head slowly, seeing as tears build up in his eyes.
For once I don’t feel an ounce of pain.
I should be crying. I should be begging him to help me. I should be feeling bad for him.
But I don’t.
All I can feel is…nothing. I feel absolutely nothing at all.
