Page 4

EDEN

Careful walking home, Eden. You never know who might be watching…

T he darkness beckoned like an old friend, chasing sleep away and any chance at a night of restful sleep. At night when the world closes in on me, the walls and air change from a comfort to a place that steals any sense of calm or serenity. As false as it usually is, the fake facade I wear is like an old friend. But now, it’s all deserted me, and the unsettled feelings rise to the surface. When I don’t know why my heart beats too loudly, my thoughts race, and yet I can’t stop the dread and tears that lodge in my throat.

My thoughts turn my reality upside down, and I want to hide. The shadows take over and I just…cry. But, I get up, climb out of bed. Shower. Fake it til I make it. Smile until it feels less like an act or a mask. Plan. Make lists. Add mundane things to get that serotonin hit that chased, at least a little, those moments away. The world isn’t sunshine and rainbows. Logically, I knew that. The moments don’t always li sten to logic.

The note left for me didn’t help keep the intrusive thoughts at bay.

I tossed and turned, the quiet of the townhouse I shared with Zoe louder than any party or event hosted by the social circle my mother once favored growing up. But ever since she remarried a while ago, she and her new husband spent more time trying to be a family with his daughter and me than throwing parties. With her new marriage came more money, but, thankfully, she didn’t care.

Money didn’t chase away demons. No matter how much of it you throw at them.

Even at a young age, I knew I was different. That the other little girls playing with pink dolls and wearing princess dresses weren’t like me. That the dragons and princes who slayed them weren’t the stories I told myself when I went to bed. The dragons were the ones I wanted to save, to keep and hide away with. Princes and knights in shining armor held no appeal for me.

I’d always felt bad for the big, bad wolf. A forest at night felt more like home to me. The moon fascinating in a way the sun had never been.

Dark thoughts and my demons. I never wanted to hurt myself. But, there were times I’d stayed in my room, alone with my thoughts and sat in the dark with them far too often for my mother’s comfort.

I’d become an expert at hiding them away even making friends with them over the years. And no amount of therapy or ‘talking’ had chased them away.

Maybe I didn’t want them gone, anymore than a normal person wanted to be comforted by the feel of the sun on their skin. I mean I loved the beach, but watching the sunset over the sand as the waves crashed was more beautiful than watching it rise. The darkness didn’t hide things. It let them out without fear of being taken away.

The moon remained a bright beacon in the night sky outside my window, and I stared as my eyes blurred. Until finally, I drifted into a dreamless sleep.

“Maybe you should've just spilled about your summer hook up and not lied to me, Zoe.” I placed my hands on my hips and glared at my best friend. Well, one of them at least.

“And maybe you should tell me what’s really wrong and stop deflecting, Eden.” Zoe crossed her arms over her chest and returned my withering stare.

Locked in a silent battle of wills, neither backing down. Our phones pinged with a notification, but if we had one thing in common, it was the stubborn streak that ran to the point of ridiculousness.

When the sound filled the air again from both of our phones, Zoe gave in. Her eyes scanned the chat as I pumped my fist and swept my freshly dyed locks over my shoulder. “I win! But. You shouldn't keep secrets from me. I always find out.”

“That’s cause you snoop. And I’m not sure if Noah is sober or drunk but he’s asking if we want to do a movie night before or after the haunted house.”

I grabbed my phone and unlocked the screen.

NOAH: Scary movie night means B&J, right?

OLIVER: Why are you asking about blow jobs and WHY AM I INCLUDED?

NOAH: BEN & JERRY’S CYCLONE. Mind out of the gutter.

Zoe snickered as she typed out a response.

ZOE: How about B&J while getting a blow job?

She pointed at me.

Oh, game one. Teasing Ollie had become our favorite past time ever since he started seeing #hockeygoddess last season. Or more accurately, the former Team USA Hockey player turned scout/new head of player development for the Seattle Revenge. It was just too easy.

EDEN: Toss up. B&J is too good to let melt, and I’m not letting any man enjoy my Chunky Monkey while his dick is in my mouth.

OLIVER: You hate Chunky Monkey, and WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT BLOW JOBS?

NOAH: You started it.

OLIVER: I hate you.

NOAH: I’m wounded.

OLIVER: You are not. You’re probably over caffeinated and bored and thought you’d pop in the chat and try to mess with my Corey time.

ZOE: Oo

h! Give #hockeygoddess the phone! I need to know. B&J or Blow Job?

Oliver: No. I’m muting you.

EDEN: I got it. B&J before and after Blow Job.

OLIVER: WHY ARE YOU CAPITALIZING IT?

We dissolved into a fit of giggles.

OLIVER: And I’d never take B&J away to get a Blow Job. That’s just cruel.

NOAH: A true gentleman. Corey taught you well.

OLIVER:...

NOAH: Kidding. But seriously. I’m buying after the haunted house, and I’d rather stock up now because if I don’t I’ll forget and there’s no way I’m hitting up the freezer section all Keatoned out.

EDEN: Yes. All the B&J’s please.

ZOE: Told you she needed to get laid.

EDEN: I’m right next to you.

ZOE: And I’d say it to your face. In fact I will.

“You need to get laid.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. And raised my brows. “Wait, are you getting laid?”

My overly confident and sassy bestie waved me off, and retorted, “Do not deflect. Battery operated is a great men-are-annoying substitute, but nothing beats getting tied and spanked or whatever your little heart desires.” In the background, our Keurig made a frothing sound that signaled her morning caffeine was done. She switched out the mugs, avoiding eye contact.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

She scoffed, adding sugar cookie creamer to her coffee, then slapping the lid on before turning back to me. “Have you ever known me not to?”

I studied my best friend, and noted the way she shifted just slightly. “When you’re ready, Zoe. But, I have to run a few errands and meet with the rental company and the caterer. Damn cupcakes are being very feisty.”

With a grin, Zoe passed me my coffee, then flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder. “Sounds like more fun than checking on the tape situation for Noah and walking a haunted house with the lights. How’s that fun?”

I snorted, coffee in one hand, and my bright pink, to match my hair of course, bag in the other. “Noah and his tape kink.”

NOAH: Are you two having a conversation and ignoring Ollie and me?

ZOE: Be nice or no tape pics.

NOAH: . Fine.

ZOE: Good hockey boy.

NOAH: That’s good #ghosthockeydaddy

The heels of my boots click clacked to the doorway and I rolled my eyes.

Ghost hockey daddy, indeed. If only…

“Call you later. Love!”

I shoved the letter I found last night, tucked into the door jamb further into my pocket and willed myself to forget its existence. Lies were easier to believe in the light of day.

The last note had been under the wiper of my car. Each one a silent reminder that there was nowhere I could hide. DMs from random social media accounts happened more often than not, and I accepted the fact that people had issues with boundaries. They were easy to dismiss, block, or delete. Fall in Montreal hit different than in Chicago where I grew up until mom met husband number two. I absolutely adored Randall but we weren’t as close as my mom wished we were. My stepsister was eight when our parents married and moved to Montreal and spoke better french than I did. To be fair, I knew a handful of terms and knew enough to get by if needed, but Izzy could have an entire conversation in and sounded very French Canadian.

And somewhere, I had a stepbrother I never met because he and Randall had been estranged for years. Uncomfortable family subjects were also a specialty in my family, and my new stepdad continued the tradition. At a very young age, I learned that my fascination for watching the moon or sneaking out of my room late at night or the way I felt bad when someone killed a spider in the house shouldn’t be spoken about. That sneaking out to sit in the rain or wishing for the dragon instead of the unicorn stuffy was frowned upon. When I learned to play the violin and loved the melancholy instead of the love songs my mother looked at me strangely and thought I needed therapy.

Thank God my therapist disagreed with her concerns over my very non princess little girl tendencies.

But from that point on, I kept it all to myself. You see, hiding things and showing only what people expect to see became my favorite coping mechanism. So, stalker hidden. If you pretend something long enough, believing it’s true isn’t a stretch.

Until you’re alone at night, staring at the moon.