one of the visual arts girls.
“What’s up?” I pull my coat around me and glance over at the building.
Ruby’s expression is serious. “Overdose. The paramedics revived her, but it was touch and go for a while.”
“Oh my God. Who is it?”
She flicks a glance at Ethan. “Olivia Pyne. Second-year actor. That’s the girl who was stalking you, right? Holt’s ex?”
I turn to Ethan, who’s gone as white as a sheet. “Yeah. That’s her.”
I’m about to say something when the lobby doors open and the paramedics wheel a gurney down the path to the sidewalk. Everyone cranes their necks to see. Even though Olivia’s pale face is half hidden beneath an oxygen mask, it’s clear she’s in a bad way.
Ethan shoves people aside to get to the paramedics. “Is she going to be okay?”
The female paramedic gives him the once-over. “You her boyfriend?”
His expression hardens. “No.”
“She’s stable. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Was the overdose intentional?”
“That’s not for us to say.”
“What did she OD on?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t comment further. We’re taking her to White Plains Hospital where they’ll do tests.”
The paramedic shoulders past Ethan before she opens the ambulance door so she and her partner can load Olivia inside. I take Ethan’s hand as the ambulance pulls away, its lights and siren blaring. He watches it with a stony expression until it disappears.
“Liberty said she’d been depressed,” Ruby says. “Got hooked on drugs a while ago. Her roommate thought she’d gotten clean, but apparently not.”
Without a word, Ethan pulls his hand out of mine and strides off.
When I catch up with him, his jaw looks so tight it could crack walnuts.
“Ethan—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Yeah, well, I’m used to that by now.
I scramble to keep up with him. “You can’t blame yourself for this. Seriously. She had a drug problem.”
“Which she developed after I fucked her up.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do, because she sure as hell didn’t have one while we were together.”
“It’s college. A lot of people do a lot of stupid stuff. At least they found her in time. She’s going to be okay.”
He stops and turns to me, his expression fiery. “You really wander through life looking through rose-colored glasses, don’t you, Taylor? She’s not going to be all right! Didn’t you see her back there? She’s barely alive! I know your life has been peaches and fucking cream, but not everyone is like you. Some of us live in the real world where shit happens that you can’t take back, and no matter how much you wish things could change, they just fucking don’t. Wake up!”
When he storms off, I tell myself he just needs time. That this will blow over, and we’ll go back to normal. But I have no idea what normal is for us. I hate that we’re becoming more and more undefined every day, and I’m powerless to stop it.
He doesn’t call me that night, and when he shows up for his final mask assessment the next morning, he looks like he hasn’t slept.
“Mr. Holt,” Erika says, as he struggles through the first test. “How are you supposed to express the truth of this mask when there are so many barriers between it and the real you?’
I can see him really trying to get to the place of vulnerability that has eluded him for weeks, but he fails, again, and again, and again.
“Let go, Ethan! Strip away all the garbage you think is protecting you!”
He grunts in frustration and tears off his mask before throwing it across the room. “I can’t fucking do it, all right?! Fail me!”
Erika looks around at the rest of the class. “You’re all dismissed. I’ll see you tomorrow. Mr. Holt, you stay.”
There are cautious looks as everyone grabs their belongings. I loiter outside the door. Yesterday with Olivia, and now this? I have no idea how to help him. Or even if he can be helped.
I press my back into the hallway wall
Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni