Hainsey

"I have to go," I say to Emyln. "Think you can close up shop?"

She looks up at the clock above the computer, and then nods her head. "Yeah, I can handle fifteen minutes alone."

I can tell she's watching me as I collect my keys and wallet from the drawer of the desk. Studying me. Fine. Whatever. I know I look like a mess. I didn't bother showering after finishing the repairs I did today, but I don't feel comfortable showering in the staff bathroom with Emyln around. The girl is so unpredictable sometimes that I'm scared of what she could do – she's got the guts of a squirrel.

"I also work at the restaurant," I explain. "Sometimes my shifts collide."

Emyln nods at me and I see a small look of understanding. "It's all good. You go to your second job," she says. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks," I say, grateful she doesn't press for more information. Like which restaurant I work at. Damn it, the last thing I need is her getting a job there too. Although, I suppose I am somewhat happy that there's another person helping me out with this job. Mountain biking is a big attraction in Whistler. It's like the drug of choice for this place, and because of that, the shop is always busy. While I can normally get through the crowds that come in, having Ems here has been a relief.

But I'm never going to admit that out loud.

"Bye, Hains," Ems calls out as I step through the door.

I grit my teeth. After our argument or whatever the hell you want to call it that took place earlier, you'd think she'd stop acting the way she is. But that's the thing about her: she fights for what she wants.

And because of that, the whole way home all I can think about is Ems. Why is she back? Why is she putting up with her mom? How long is she staying for? Is she actually sorry? A little voice in my mind wonders if I should turn around and confront her on my own terms. That way, before she blurts out another apology, she'll know the real impact her departure had on me. I'd also have my own speech prepared. But the thought of it, of what we would need to confront is too much for me. It's not just about what happened after we kissed for the first time, it's also about what happened in the following days when it was just me and Val. Yeah, she was a good friend, but I had needed Emyln at that moment because she knew what I was going through. It's about the fact that she left. That I never saw her again and never heard from her either. It's because of those reasons I don't see a point in forgiving her.

I pull into the driveway and shift into park in a frustrated manner. I'm pissed off at myself. Ems. Ems. Ems. She's all I can think about when I shouldn't be. Thinking about the past makes my emotions want to splinter, and my bones turn to dust. Ems coming back has reminded me about where I am in my life, and I don't want to dredge through the undeniable facts. Dealing with my mom's drug addiction, paying bills, and working two jobs is enough to deal with. But I can't stop myself from comparing our lives. I bet Ems graduated high school on the Principal's List and has gotten into Canada's top university with little to no effort. Judging by the snippets of the conversation I heard, I bet she's got a stellar job and a boyfriend that meets her standards.

I mentally sigh. Why the fuck am I doing this to myself?

Getting out of my truck, I note that the grass needs mowing and that the garden needs some weeding soon or else it's going to resemble the knotted roots of the forest behind my house. The front step on the porch is beginning to rot too, but I have no fucking clue when I'll be able to get around to repairing it.

But focusing on what needs to be fixed doesn't help me distract my mind from Ems. God, how long am I going to have to fight myself? No, I decide, unlocking the front door, I'll see Ems and talk to her, but that's it and that's all. She left. She made the choice to end things between us. I have to focus on the present. I have no other choice if I want to get the hell out of here at some point.

As soon as I get inside, I see my mom and one of her many drug abuser friends sitting on the couch in the living room. The sight I see makes me want to vomit. There's a look on her face that I recognize well: hunger and longing. Her eyes are red-rimmed and she's holding a needle in her hand while the woman sitting next to her ties a blue elastic around her bicep. I shake my head and walk away, heading for my bedroom. I can't handle seeing my mom like this –nothing but skin and bones, needle track marks, scars from the scabs she has a habit of picking, and abscesses at the injection site. There were once days where she was my mom, where she loved me like a parent is supposed to. But the drugs took over everything.

It's times like these where I subconsciously wish I would have gone with my dad – even if he's the one who caused all this shit. But I could never do that; I could never leave my mom behind.

Like it would matter, my mind whispers. You've already failed her.

The thought stings because it's true. I tried. I tried so hard to make my mom see the light and stay sober, to help her heal that broken heart. Nothing worked, though, because here we are.

I do my best to not slam the bedroom door. Another thing I fail at. I'm pissed off at everyone and everything around me. Why does my life have to be so complicated? What did I ever do to deserve this? Shaking my head, I decide that I'm going to shower before going out.

I lied to Ems. Right to her face. And it nearly killed me. Why, I don't know. It just did. Well...I partially lied. I do work at one of the many restaurants in The Village, but not tonight. Tonight I'm going out to buy enough heroin to curb my mom's addiction for the next week. It's an awful thing to do, but it's the only thing I can do to help my mom at this time. If I were to cut her off, she'd be going out and getting money for the drug in ways that I don't even want to think about.

After I've showered, shaved, and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I head back downstairs, my hair still wet.

Nothing's changed in the amount of time it took me. This time, however, Mom notices me. "Hi, Hainsey," she says. "How was work today?"

I don't look at her – I can't. She acts so differently when she's high: agitated and worried that she's not going to get her next fix. Mom makes it seem like she's concerned about me and my well-being when she's not. She just wants to make sure I'm getting what she needs.

Clenching my fist around my wallet, I reply through gritted teeth, "It was great, Mom. Ems is back in town."

"Emyln Walker?" Mom asks.

My heart throbs. For a single moment, I see the mom she once was – the one that would take Ems and me out for ice cream after a long day at Lost Lake, or allow us sips of beer on Canada Day because it was worth the alcohol.

"Yeah," I nod. "That's the Ems I'm talking about."

"How is she?"

I sigh. "She's the same. Beautiful as always."

"Where are you going?" she asks, with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

Just like that, she's right back to who she is now. Why do I ever hope things are going to change? It's just like they say: Hope breeds eternal misery.

"Don't worry, Mom," I say, feeling exhausted. "I'll be back later with your necessities."  

If she says something, I don't hear it because I've already shut the door behind me. Slammed it, actually. I skip the bottom step of the front porch as I storm for the truck. I'm angry. I'm angry at Ems for coming back. I'm angry that my mom refuses to go to a rehab centre. I'm angry with my dad for leaving me behind for another family.

The result of everyone else's decisions is something I don't deserve. My parents are selfish assholes that couldn't just divorce like a normal couple would. Ems has returned to make things right between us when things are constantly falling downhill. Mom is in her own world.

And me?

I'm trying to coast along with a current that isn't mine. Any plans I had after high school have been ripped away from me.

Blinking back the tears, I start the engine and begin to head for the outskirts of town. It's the usual exchange spot, on the dead end of some disabled logging road.

As I drive, I try not to think about anything. I don't think about my father. I don't think about Ems or my mom. I don't think about all my peers and friends who have gone away for university or college.

It's the only thing I can do.

* * *

The exchange goes well – I give the dealer the money, he gives me the drugs, and then I deliver them to my mom. Suffice to say, it runs smoothly.

It's still light out, so I decide to go for a sprint. It's the only thing I can do to keep in shape for hockey. Paying the bills, working, playing hockey, paying for food, and paying for expensive drugs takes up all my money, so the gym is not an option. Which is why working at Mrs. Brantford's shop is good; I'm always lifting heavy mountain bikes.

I sprint until I'm sweating buckets. The place I stop is what Ems and everyone we went to high school with used to call The Kissing Tree. It's a twisted tree that has a thick branch that hangs over the lake. People always used to go there to make out when parties were thrown in this area.

It's been years since I've been here, and I don't know why I've come back.

Walking down the steep incline, I use some of the branches to help aid with traction. The incline has definitely become steeper since the last time I was here. I hit the bottom of the path just as the crickets begin to chirp. It's a soothing sound for my tense muscles and nerves, so I decide to climb out onto the tree and sit down for a while. I also decide that if the water's cool enough, I might even go for a swim.

Once I'm situated on the branch of the tree, my legs hanging over the edge and toes touching the water, I close my eyes and release a deep breath, letting all the tension in my body fade away.

These small moments are what I live for. Although the time is limited, it feels like infinity to me. I slump against one of the awkwardly placed branches and open my eyes to get a good look at the view. I've always loved Whistler and it's definite beauty – the forests, the colour of the water, the tall mountains that are always topped with snow. It's too bad there's nothing but ugliness in the core. And I'm not talking about The Village when I say that – The Village is fucking amazing. I'm talking about my life. It's like a black hole and I hate it. I want to be free from all this shit I've had to face. When will it end? Does it ever end?

I'm afraid I'll never find the answer.

Sighing, I run my fingers along the coarse bark of the tree until I find the initials that Val, Ems, and I engraved into the tree when we were nine. It was one of those cheesy "Oh, we'll be best friends forever," things. I used to love it. Now I hate it. I hate it because it's a reminder of what things used to be before my parents and Emyln's parents fucked everything up.

Before they left us all behind to breathe in their second-hand smoke. 

Sometimes I wonder if I'm destined for the same fate as my parents. The thought scares me. I want a wife and a family. I want everything that we once had, but what if the marriage doesn't work out? I could never do that to my own kid. I know how the separation has affected Ems, and I know how it's affected me.

Being cast aside fucking sucks. It makes you feel like you're never enough. Neither of my parents cares about me. Mrs. Brantford didn't seem to mind that her daughters walked out with their dad.

I rub my tired eyes. I wish there was a way I could talk to Ems about all this shit. But there's no way we could handle dealing with the past. We're both ticking time bombs – one of us is eventually going to lose it on the other. It's just how things usually happen when you leave your best friend behind with no one.