Dreaming of Antigone

  The door to his bedroom is open and I peek inside. His walls are sky blue and bare. His bedspread a navy and black plaid. Other than a small pile of dirty clothes, his room is not as messy as I’d imagined a boy’s room to be. A bass guitar is lying across the bed with an open notebook. The temptation to read it is strong, but I resist. What if he’s been writing a song about Iris?

  A library book sits open on his desk. Robert Frost. I sit down in the computer chair and wait. The room smells like cedar and sage and I recognize the woodsy scent I smell on him whenever we’re close. I close my eyes and breathe in.

  The water stops and the bathroom door opens. I panic. Didn’t he take clean clothes in there with him?

  Evidently not. I open my eyes to see him standing in the doorway, a towel slung low around his hips.

  Alex stares at me, with water dripping from his shoulders. He is such a beautiful boy, I think. I feel a twinge in the bottom of my belly. Possibly in my ovaries. I need to look at something else besides his abs. Think about other things, Andria. Like baby pandas. Or cupcakes.

  His cheeks turn pink. “What are you doing in here?”

  I hop up from the chair. “Sorry, I thought you were getting dressed in the bathroom.” As I scoot past him into the hallway, I catch the warm scent of shampoo and cedar.

  I need to put more distance between us. Before I do something stupid.

  He lets me pass, and I shut the door behind me. “I’ll just wait in the kitchen,” I say.

  His voice is muffled. “No, stay right there.”

  As I stand in the hallway, I hear drawers opening and slamming shut. I hear wire hangers raking across a closet rod as they’re shoved from side to side.

  When he opens his door again, he’s wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. “Please come sit back down. I . . . I think I’m ready to hear more.” He gestures to his bed, and I give him a look.

  He shrugs and spins his computer chair around for me like a gentleman.

  I sit and roll it back closer to his bed, where he sits down. I place my hands in my lap, folding my fingers together like I’m about to say a prayer.

  “I keep my own journal for my doctor. I record my seizures and write down each one’s length, type, what was happening before, stuff like that. It helps him adjust my medication doses and helps me become more aware of my triggers. Like a severe lack of sleep.”

  Alex frowns and lies back on his bed, his hands behind his head.

  “I hadn’t written in my diary in over six months. Until I had the seizure yesterday. But it had been lying on my desk the night Iris died. She saw it and left me a message inside, while I was at the ER with Mom and Craig.

  “But I never saw it. The morning she died I shoved the journal between some books on my bookshelf and forgot about it. Until this week when I pulled it out to record my last seizure.”

  I swallow the huge lump in my throat. I don’t want to cry in front of Alex. “If I hadn’t gone to the ER that night, Iris wouldn’t have been left alone. And she wouldn’t have taken my pills to add to the heroin and alcohol she had in her system. So really, it was my fault she died that night. Not yours.”

  He raises himself up off the bed on one arm. “You’ve got to be kidding. It’s not your fault. You had a seizure. You couldn’t help it.”

  Dammit, he makes me cry. I wipe my face with the heel of my hand. He is going to hate me when I tell him everything that happened that night.

  But it all has to come bubbling out. The ugly truth that I’ve kept locked inside for all these months.

  “Alex. I faked that seizure.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Six Months Ago

  I really did have a seizure that night, but it had been way earlier in the evening. Iris had found me on the carpet in my bedroom, twitching and drooling, with Sophie pressed up against me, whimpering. Iris stayed on the floor with me until the seizure was over, and helped me up into my bed afterward. She brought a washcloth and stayed with me until the postseizure drowsiness started to wear off.

  I was hysterical and told her not to tell anyone about the seizure. I was supposed to be taking the test for my driver’s license the following Monday. If Mom knew, she’d tell my doctor and I wouldn’t be able to take the test for at least another six months.

  Iris didn’t approve of me hiding something like that, but she knew how badly I wanted my license. And she promised to help me keep it secret. As long as I promised to go out with her that night and help with her cover story.

  It was Saturday night, and we were supposed to be meeting Natalie and Trista at the mall. That’s what we told Mom and Craig. Mall first, then going to eat at the diner out on Pembrook Street.

  Instead, Iris drove us to a house somewhere on the other side of the university, just inside the Perimeter. I have no idea whose house it was or who was throwing the party, but that was the night Iris introduced me to Mike.

  I’m sure it’s not his real name, but I know he knew Iris and everyone else, calling them by their real names. Trista and Hank were there. We could hear them arguing in one of the back bedrooms. Mike grinned and said Iris would probably love to try the special blend he’d sold to Trista. Trista was already stoned out of her mind, he added, and Hank was desperately trying to catch up with her.

  But Iris had other plans.

  “You brought me here to babysit?” I demanded.

  She shrugged. “Not really. I just wanted you to spend some time with us. Let loose a little, even if you can’t party.” But there was something in her eyes that I didn’t like. An uneasiness. She was afraid of something.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I whispered. “We can go home and bake cookies. They’ll taste a hell of a lot better than whatever Mike’s making in the kitchen.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to go home. And you don’t need to be cooped up there either. Come on, let’s have some fun.”

  I glanced around the room at all the drugged zombies shuffling around. “This doesn’t look like fun,” I mumbled.

  “Okay, fine. I need you to babysit then,” she said. “Alex is already in the back room, and Mike’s going to fix me up.”

  “I should call Mom,” I say. “Or the cops.”

  She turned around, her eyes flashing. “And you’d be arrested right along with us. Do you want Mom to know about your seizure this afternoon? I’d hate for you to lose your driver’s license before you even get it.”

  I glared right back at her. “You are evil.”

  She grinned and kissed me on the forehead. “You love me.”

  I was stupid not to stand up to her. I should have called the cops right then. Instead I followed her down the hallway into the back bedroom. It was empty, save for a few mattresses set out on the floor.

  Alex was sitting on one of the mattresses, his back against the wall. His poufy rock-star bangs hung in his eyes, and he looked like an English sheepdog. “Ladies,” he said, with a goofy smile. “Come fly with me.”

  I rolled my eyes, but Iris climbed over two unidentified bodies lying on the floor to reach him. The bodies rolled over and turned out to be Hank and Caleb, who were also, apparently, flying.

  “Where’s Trista?” I asked. “Is Natalie here too?”

  “Went to get something to eat,” Alex said, as Iris climbed into his lap. “In the kitchen.”

  I turned around and let them have some privacy. Hank and Caleb were too stoned to pay attention to them. But I didn’t want to watch.

  The kitchen was dingy, just like the rest of the house. Old vinyl flooring was curling up in places, and the fluorescent lighting hummed loudly. I was afraid it was going to explode at any minute.

  Trista was not in the kitchen. Two girls wearing sorority shirts from the university were making what looked like Kool-Aid, making a mess on the counter. A guy with blond dreadlocks was pulling chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. They smelled so good, but I didn’t dare eat anything in this house.

  “Thirsty?” one of the sorori
ty girls asked me.

  I shook my head, wishing I’d brought my own Diet Coke with me. “No, thanks.”

  I texted Natalie, hoping she was somewhere in the house, but when she answered, it was to say she was at a cousin’s birthday party with her family. Great. I had no backup that night.

  This didn’t seem to be the typical keg party that Iris and Trista usually liked to attend. There was no loud thumping music, and the front yard wasn’t packed full of cars. It was rather low-key, as if whoever was throwing the party was going out of their way not to piss off the neighbors.

  One of the rooms smelled like pot. I already knew what that smelled like. But the other room, with Alex and Iris, had a more sinister smell. Like butterscotch and vinegar.

  Iris was still in the back bedroom with Alex. I was aware again of the absence of wall-thumping music, and realized most people in the room were getting their bliss on with their own private sound track, courtesy of earbuds.

  Alex was sitting next to Iris, his eyes closed while he was off in his own world. Iris was smiling at something Mike was saying to her, as he handed her a piece of aluminum foil. He was showing her how to fold it and hold a cigarette lighter underneath.

  Cold black fear slithered up inside me. I stumbled over someone’s body as I tried to reach my sister. “Iris!”

  She held what looked like a homemade cigarette to the foil and sucked in.

  She had her earbuds in, but my shriek was loud enough for her to hear. Still, she had a hard time lifting her head and looking up at me.

  I squatted down in front of her instead. “What are you doing?” I asked, panicking. “I thought you were smoking pot with Alex. What the hell is that?”

  Her eyes rolled back. “Pot doesn’t work,” she murmured.

  Mike put his things away in a black bag. It looked like an old fashioned doctor’s bag. “Sweet dreams, Iris.” He noticed me and did a cartoonish double take. “Whoa. Two Irises. Want to chase the dragon with her?”

  “Stay away from me,” I said.

  “Whatever you say, Doppelgänger.” He grinned and took his bag of poison across the room, where the dreadlocked boy from the kitchen was waiting for him. For him, Mike pulled out a tourniquet and a tiny syringe.

  We shouldn’t have been there, in that house. I should have called the cops and dragged Iris home no matter what she told Mom.

  Instead, I went outside and sat on the front porch step, looking for stars. The woods behind those houses backed up against the city’s enormous cemetery, so it was nice and dark. I sat outside for a long time, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, but the sky was too cloudy. It might have been a bad omen.

  Trista stumbled outside, her eyes wild and her cheeks burning red. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  It took her a moment to focus on what I was saying. “No, I’m fine. Where’s Hank?”

  “In the back with Alex and Iris.”

  But she had already disappeared into the house.

  I followed her back, but neither she nor Hank were there when I found Iris, leaned up against Alex. I glared at Mike, who had apparently finished medicating Dreadlocks.

  “How long will her high last?” I asked him.

  “A few hours. She’s only smoked a few times, so it lasts longer for her than for some of these other guys.”

  “She’s done this before?” I asked, horrified. What kind of person had my sister become? And why hadn’t I noticed?

  “Listen, if you’re going to stay here with her, I need to make a phone call. Watch those two,” he said, nodding to Iris and Alex. “Keep them upright and don’t let them choke on their own puke.”

  I felt like gagging myself. I glared at my sister’s boyfriend. And kicked him in the shin. “Did he get her started on this?” I asked Mike. But the drug dealer had already left.

  Alex slid over on his side, but I ignored him. I didn’t care if he choked or died. Instead, I bent down beside my sister.

  “Iris.” I pulled an earbud out of one ear. “Iris!”

  She didn’t open her eyes, but she smiled. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

  “We’re not safe,” I said, shaking her. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Noooo, I like it here. Everyone I love is here.” She frowned for a moment, but then her face smoothed out. “I love you, Andria.”

  “I know.” I wondered if I’d be able to carry her if it came down to it.

  “Don’t make me go home just yet. I like it here. In heaven.”

  Her eyes were still closed. I looked around the dim room full of drugged bodies. There was a clear path to the door. I pulled her earbud out again and held it up to my ear. She was listening to a Calcifer song. I recognized Thing One’s voice singing about darkness and light. I leaned my head against her shoulder and closed my eyes for one moment. I tried to wait for her to come back to me. She smelled like sweat and pot and rancid butterscotch, but underneath all of that, I could also smell her favorite body lotion. Cherry blossoms.

  No, I couldn’t wait. We had to get out of there. I pulled the earbuds away. “Come on, Iris! It’s time to go to school!”

  Her eyes flew open. “Now?”

  “Yes. Now. If we hurry we won’t be late.”

  “Okay.” She let me stand her up. But her face looked pale. “I don’t feel good.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, leading her out of the room, away from Alex. “I’ll drive.”

  “We’ll get into trouble. You shouldn’t be driving.” Her eyebrows were scrunched up. She was trying to remember something important.

  “It will be okay. We’ll be sneaky.”

  The frown on her face turned into something more serious. Distress. She stopped walking. “I don’t like being sneaky.”

  I grabbed her arm and tried to hurry her down the hallway. “Seriously? Then you shouldn’t have been sneaking around and smoking heroin. Why would you do such a thing? Why couldn’t you tell me?”

  But Iris was silent as she allowed me to drag her out the door to the car.

  “How long have you been doing hard stuff like this?” I asked, helping her into the front passenger seat.

  She pouted, and her head lolled back. I could hear one of the sorority girls giggling from the front porch.

  Then I remembered. Trista. I couldn’t leave her at that house alone. Once I had Iris buckled in, I went back inside to find her best friend. I hoped that it would be easier to persuade her to leave.

  But I found Trista straddling a drugged out Hank-Zombie, riding him like she was a jockey in the Kentucky Derby. “Tris!” I shouted, wishing that there was truly such a thing as brain bleach. “It’s time to go home!”

  She looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes perfectly clear and sober. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll make sure the boys make it home safe.”

  The stony look in her eye made me uncomfortable. No matter what drugs she’d taken earlier that night, she seemed fully aware of what she was doing. Even if Hank wasn’t.

  “Fuck, woman!” Hank shouted. He must have been aware after all.

  I took one last look at the Alex-Zombie. He was still breathing.

  Pity.

  And he looked like he was starting to come down from his high. I wasn’t going to waste any more time worrying about him.

  “Call me when you’ve got them home,” I told Trista. But I wasn’t sure if she had my number or not. “Just call Iris’s phone.”

  She rolled her eyes and never lost her rhythm.

  When I got back to the car, Iris was beginning to come down. But her pupils were still tiny pinpoints. I dug through her purse for the keys.

  “You’re not supposed to drive,” she said. “You’re post-ictal. Ictal. Ictal.” She became fascinated with the word describing my sleepy state after a seizure.

  “It’s fine,” I said, starting the car. “I’m a safer driver than you right now.”

  As I drove carefully back across town, I tried to push the guilt out of my head. Stupid brain, betraying
me when I needed it most to behave. I couldn’t miss the driving test on Monday. I had to get my license.

  Iris was still amusing herself. “Ictal. Ichthyologist. Ichabod Crane.”

  Hopefully she wouldn’t even remember my seizure in the morning.

  “I kept you safe, didn’t I?” she asked me suddenly.

  I nodded. “We’re both safe,” I said, pulling into our neighborhood. “I keep you safe too.”

  She let out a sob. “You can’t. It’s too late for me.”

  Iris dozed off until I pulled into our driveway, right behind Mom’s and Craig’s cars. It wasn’t quite midnight, so I was afraid they would still be awake. I hoped I could get Iris to her room to sleep before they saw us.

  “Iris, look at me.” I turned the map light on overhead.

  “Shit! What was that for?”

  “Crap, your pupils are still effed up. If you can’t walk straight, we’ll both be grounded.”

  She giggled at me, and then noticed the cars in the driveway. She started to cry.

  “Just be quiet,” I said as we got out of the car.

  As soon as she slammed her door shut, the porch light came on.

  “Oh shit,” she muttered.

  I thought about all the trouble Iris would be in if they found her. I thought about how I had begged her to lie for me and help keep me out of trouble.

  “When we get inside,” I told her, “don’t pay any attention to me. Just go straight to your room and go to bed.”

  Before she could argue, the front door opened and Mom stood in the foyer. “There are my girls! You’re both home earlier than we expected.”

  “I wasn’t feeling good,” I said, pretending to lean on Iris even though I was really holding her up. I hoped Mom wouldn’t get a good look at her.

  It didn’t work.

  “What’s wrong with Iris?” she asked, trying to pull us apart.

  I fell to the floor in the foyer. I had no idea what my seizures looked like, even though I’d asked Iris once to record me having one, out of morbid curiosity.