Hainsey

Ems and I arrive at work an hour late. All I could think about how convenient it was to not have Mrs. Brantford here – she would have lost her shit.

Aside from being late, the day goes well. Ems and I do the usual work: cleaning mountain bikes, filling out the paperwork so people can rent them, and selling retail.

When it's time to close up, Ems invites me over for dinner again. I want to go, but after spending the night away and having the best day of my life, I know I need to get home and check on my mom. She should be okay with her current stash, considering how I went out the night before my birthday and met up with the drug dealer, but I still worry about her. Sometimes the amount she uses scares me – I lay in bed wondering if she'll be breathing in the morning.

As I'm locking the doors up, Ems nudges me in the ribcage. "So when do I get to come over and see your mom?"

Fuck. Can she somehow sense when I'm thinking about my mom?

Tucking away the keys to the shop, I reach for her hand and thread my fingers through hers, squeezing lightly. "Soon," I lie. "Mom's out of town right now. She'll be back in the next few days."

Ems gives me her I'm-not-buying-that-shit look. "Her car is still in the driveway, Hains. It has been for the past couple weeks. Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not," I insist, unable to look her directly in the eye. "I drove her to the airport – work called and she had to go to Edmonton. I swear."

She contemplates my words for a moment and then nods. "So that's why you were getting in your truck so late the other night?"

My blood freezes. She was awake when I went out to meet the drug dealer and saw me leave? Shit. While the very idea freaks me out, I manage to keep my shit together and nod. "Yeah," I shrug. "Mom's always preferred travelling at night."

Her look of understanding quickly fades back into a frown. "Okay, but what about all those other nights?"

"Other nights?" I ask, playing stupid.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on, Hains. You've been going out late every few nights."

"You've been awake at that time?"

She nudges me again. "I'm not a kid anymore – bedtime is nonexistent."

I sigh, knowing I'm not getting out of this. So I spin another lie: "When I can't sleep at night, I go for a run." I add a shrug for emphasis. "It's no big deal."

I can tell just by the look on her face that she doesn't believe me, but she nods. "Okay. Well, next time you go on one, invite me. I'd rather you not go out alone at that time. Or maybe knock on my window and join me in my room."

It hurts how much she sounds like my mom used to. She cares about me and is concerned about my well-being. I didn't realize how much I've missed that. And that's why I nod my head and agree.

"Cool," Ems smiles, standing on her tiptoes and planting a kiss on my lips. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

I can't reply to her face. I can barely stomach the fact that I've lied to her. Yeah, Ems hurt me in the past, but it doesn't give me the right to be keeping secrets and lying to her. Telling her about the shit my mom's going through and been putting me through would only work to my advantage because, well, I know Ems – she'd do everything in her power to help me clean up the mess I've made. Yet I'm scared. What will she think of me? It's because of me that my mom has been able to access the heroin she's addicted to.

"Yeah," I say after she's halfway out of sight on the trail that leads to our houses. "See you, Ems."

* * *

Home is a dreadful place today. Mom's in one of her moods, and the first thing she does is complain about the quality of the drug and how her high wasn't as great. Of course, I'm already pissed at myself for lying to Ems, so I snap at her for the first time in a long time. It actually catches both of us off guard. Usually, I can keep my cool and look at this fucked-up situation from a stable perspective, but there's something about everything that's messing with my head. And I can't tell if it's because my mom is becoming more accustomed to the drug or if it's because I'm lying to the person I love most in this world.

After the little spat with my mom, I storm up to my bedroom and slam the door like a little kid. I also make sure that the blinds are closed so Ems can't see into my bedroom from hers. There have been multiple times where I've caught her staring out her window when I have nothing but a towel wrapped around my waist. I should consider it alarming, but I'd be a liar if I didn't admit to doing the same thing. What can I say? She looks sexy in a towel or bra and underwear. 

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I drop my face into my hands and heave out a heavy sigh. This sucks. I know it sounds too simple to describe the situation I'm in, but it just fucking sucks. And it's my entire fault. Why did I have to be so weak and help my mom destroy herself? I should have been persistent with my intentions when it came to telling her she needed help; I shouldn't have given up so easily. But I did, and now I'm paying the price for it. I also wish my dad wouldn't have pulled the shit he did, but I push that thought away. The last thing I need is to think about him right now. That's an old wound with a temporary bandage over it. There's no need to harm the bandage. 

I glance at my phone that I threw on the nightstand minutes ago. I need to talk to someone about this. Calling Val and discussing all the shit that's going on is normally what I'd do, but I know it's not going to be enough. She knows the just of what's happened, but she doesn't understand how my parents' decisions have really affected me. I've never gone deep into what I feel exactly – I've just told her the basics, like what drug mom's addicted to, how long it's been going on, and why I'm doing what I'm doing. Telling her how the divorce and cheating scandal were catalysts in this problem didn't seem relevant due to the fact that she doesn't understand the feelings that rise to the surface when your parents go through a divorce; she doesn't have the experience. There is one person that does, though, and I think I need her. 

The window across from Ems's snags my attention. Every bit of my soul begs me to tell her, to climb through my window, scale the fence, climb the trestle up to her window, and knock on the glass. Things would be so much easier if I could work up the courage to do so. Having the support I need to beat this addiction my mom has could aid me in finding a way to get back on my feet and maybe, just maybe, get the hell out of here and stop wasting my money. 

Taking a deep breath, I get up, pocket my phone, and then grab a sweater from my closet. I was crazy to go this long without telling Ems. All she's done since she arrived is confide in me about everything. She's told me how she feels guilty that she's starting to like her mom more and more as the days pass by because she's worried Rosa is going to consider her a traitor. I know she's terrified of going to Ontario all on her own and being so far away from her dad and sister and me. I know so much about her, and she knows so little about me.

Shit.

I've been a terrible boyfriend. I've told her nothing about me. 

So, with shaky hands, I open my bedroom window and crawl out onto the roof, carefully lowering myself down to the shed that sits at the side of the house. The shed is tall, but not too tall that I'm unable to jump down to the gravel, which I do. It was a lot harder when I was a kid because I had to hang from the gutters and then drop to the ground. I guess growing up does have its perks. 

The sun's set by now and the sky is a dark indigo colour. I wonder if she's still awake – today was busy and she seemed tired after work. I don't want to wake her up, but I know that I need to do this before I chicken out. I'm telling her one way or another.

Climbing the fence that marks the property lines is much easier than I remember. Then again, it has been five years since the last time I did it – I was a pretty scrawny kid. And because of that, I begin to question whether or not I should even attempt to climb the trestle. What if it can't hold my weight anymore?

I test the first level of it with my foot. It seems okay, but I'm also not putting my full weight on it. I spend the next thirty seconds weighing my options, and then I eventually decide to go for it. While I know Mrs. Brantford will lose her shit on me for breaking the trestle her vine-plant-thing grows on, I can always repair it. I still pray it doesn't break beneath me. 

I'm painfully slow at first, careful with where I place my feet and hands to make sure I don't lose my balance. The last thing I need is a broken leg because it would mean not playing hockey, and God knows I need hockey to get through my daily life. 

Thankfully, I make it to the top without so much as a scratch.

The only problem is, is that Ems's window is intimidating. And as my knuckles linger centimetres away from the glass, I start to second-guess myself. Am I doing the right thing? Should I tell her? What is she going to think? Do I want to drag her into this mess?

They're pointless questions – I already know the answers.

Ems is a strong-willed girl that never strays from staying by your side. She'll help me. I know she will. 

I knock against the glass and wait patiently.

After a couple of minutes, the white curtains are pulled back and I see Ems on the opposite side. Her face is quickly transformed from bored and tired to happy as happy can be. She quickly opens the window and invites me in.

"You know my mom's not home, right? You don't need to sneak around," she jokes, holding out a hand to help me through.

I take her hand without hesitation, loving the feel. There's just something about her presence that soothes me and has the ability to calm my racing mind. "Yeah," I say as soon as I'm standing on the hardwood floor of her bedroom. "I'm starting to think it would have been a better idea. Not sure how many times that trestle is going to be able to hold my weight. Shit, I barely fit through my own window."

Ems bursts out laughing. "Yeah, you were a lot smaller the last time you did this. Remember how I was able to beat you in those arm wrestling matches we'd have?" She looks me over. "I bet you'd be able to snap my arm now."

I shrug. She's giving me more credit than need be. Yeah, I'm strong, but she's got determination and grit. She would find a way to beat me. 

She smiles at me like I'm her sun and moon and stars, and this is the moment I realize I'm not going to be able to tell her tonight. I think back to the bored, tired look that was on her face and how she suddenly changed in my presence. I can't wreck that for her – I'd feel like shit if I did. All I want to do is make her as happy as she makes me. 

"What are you doing here?" she asks, sitting on her bed.

I look at her, full on. Big freaking mistake. She's wearing her pyjamas – purple short shorts lined with black lace, and a matching tank top. I swallow thickly. "I...um...missed you." My mouth feels dry, and I can feel my hands starting to shake. Maybe coming over here was a mistake, but not in the way I originally thought. It's like the air is electric between us – I can feel the hidden emotions that lie beneath the surface; the things we didn't do but should've.

She gives me a smug grin. "You missed me?"

Damn. She knows I'm bullshitting her. I shrug. "Yeah," I reply, sitting down beside her. "I missed you and I wanted to spend more time with you."

"Okaaay..." she drawls, side-glancing me as she heads over to her bed and flops down. The sleek-looking shirt she's wearing rides up, giving me a view of the tanned skin of her stomach. I tear my eyes away.

The last thing I want to do is make Ems cry and feel upset. There are very few things that can make her break, but I know this will. She loved my mom when we were younger and it's going to hurt her, finding out that I let something like this happen. 

I'm torn. I should tell her, but I don't want to anymore. She calms me and makes me think things aren't always going to stay the same. Ems came back to me. 

I point to the empty space beside her. "Can I lay down?"

She leans forward and grabs my hands, pulling me down beside her. "Do you really have to ask?" she smiles.