One Last Thing ✅

fifty things

"Can you drop me off at Jared's house?" I ask Grams.

In my lap, I am holding a white bag, folded over once, twice. Inside is an orange bottle of pills. It says Sertraline, 50 mg, take one pill in the morning with food. I stared at it hard while Grams paid. Wondering if it was possible that whatever chemicals in those little capsules could actually change my brain chemistry for the better, even me out, like Dr. Maycomb said.

I wonder what people did in the old days, before there was all this science and technology and everyone demanding to be happy every second of the day. Maybe they were too busy growing food and working and reading books and stuff to think about how meaningless everything is.

Stop it.

"Why do you want to go to Jared's house?" Grams asks.

"They're having band practice."

"But your hand..."

"I know," I say, rolling the end of the bag more tightly. "It's just to watch." The words taste bitter on my tongue. I can't imagine how shitty it will feel to sit there and watch my friends play without me.

Think about how Mr. Edwards' family feels.

I shudder.

She looks at me once more, shrugs, and hits her turning signal. "Okay." As we turn the corner in the direction of Jared's house, I look out the window. Clouds have swept in, turning the world as grey as I feel. These pills, in the bag, will they bring back the sun?

Do I even deserve the sun?

I am pondering this when Grams pulls into Jared's driveway. The garage door is open, and I see that Riley and Abbott are already there. I lean over to kiss Grams before I get out of the car. It seems to take her by surprise, but then she gives me a sweet smile. "Have fun, honey. Let me know if you need a ride home."

"Okay," I reply, popping open the door and lying the bag on the seat. "I'll call if I'm going to be late."

"Okay," she says, and then hesitates a moment. "I love you."

It's not that she's never said this to me before. She has, many times. But usually during the times you're supposed to, like on birthdays or Christmas. Or when I was little and she was putting me to bed. But this is something different. The way she says it, kind of out of the blue, it seems like she means it more or something. Just the fact that it even randomly entered her head is nice.

"I love you, too," I say before I close the door.

It's something we should say more often, I decide.

I walk slowly up the driveway, arranging my face into what I hope is a happy, carefree expression, not like a girl who would rather be dead than hanging out with her ex-bandmates while they practice. But when I get to the garage, I realize that Riley is sitting on the couch, crying. Jared is sitting next to her, arm around her, and Abbott is standing awkwardly nearby.

I remember that Riley was supposed to go for ice cream with her father after school. Oh, shit. Ruined birthday cake remix. So Riley was right. Her parents are splitting up.

As I rush to sit on Riley's other side, she raises her tear-streaked face and spots me. She raises her arms, and I wrap my good one around her, sinking into the hug, and she dissolves into a fresh batch of sobs.

"What is it, Ri?" I ask, pushing her hair out of her face. "Is it your parents?" She nods and puts her face in her hands. I crouch over her, resting my cheek on her shaking back. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

After a few moments, Riley gathers enough breath to speak. "They're not getting a divorce," she blurts. "My mom is pregnant."

Eyes wide, I straighten up.

Jared is covering his mouth with one hand, trying to mask his laughter.

"What?" I shriek. "Are you serious? How old is your mom?"

"Forty-one," Riley says.

"Wow," I breathe. "I was not expecting that."

"Neither was I," Riley wails. "I mean, I wanted a little sister when I was, like, seven, but this is just too much."

Recovering, I lean forward and touch her hand. "What's too much? You wanted a sister when you were seven. What has changed?"

She stares out at the street. Her head follows a silver SUV as it turns a corner, disappears. "I don't know. I guess... I'm just used to things the way they are. I don't want them to change."

I squeeze her hand. "They were going to change anyway, weren't they? You're going to college. You won't even be home." The words hurt for me to say because I've been thinking about how much things will change for me next year. Everyone else will be leaving, and I will still be here. Maybe in prison. Maybe not. Either way, I'll be stuck.

She takes in a big breath. "Okay, this is going to sound really selfish, but I'm afraid... if I leave, and they have a new baby, it will be like... replacing me."

I consider her words. "That's not selfish. But I don't think that will happen. You know how crazy your parents are about you." It's one of the things I've envied most about Riley—the fact that her parents worship the ground she walks on. She could never do wrong in their eyes, while it seems like Grams is just waiting for the next time I screw up.

"I know," Riley says, and swallows. "I know it logically. I know I'm being ridiculous, okay? But I just need to cry about this for a minute, even though it doesn't make any sense."

I can't lie. There's something almost satisfying about watching Riley fall apart like this. I mean, it's not like I'm enjoying it or anything, but it just makes her seem more real, like she has out of control feelings from time to time, too. It's comforting in this weird way, like it's not only me that feels completely messed up sometimes.

Abbott walks over to the mini fridge and grabs cans of Mountain Dew for everyone. He passes them around, and we open them and drink them in silence. And it's kind of nice because I thought coming here would be excruciating, watching them all enjoy each other and just being an onlooker. But that's not how it is, at all. I'm still a part of them, even if I can't play the guitar anymore. We're all in this together, helping each other out when we need it.

That's what the Sea Monkeys are about.

And that's not going to change, even if we all go to different schools. We might not talk as often, but nothing can erase this bond among us. We'll always have this moment, in our hearts.

Forever.