Drowning in You by Rebecca Berto

surrounded by it. It’s in the silence when you hobble
through the front door, stinking of chlorine and riddled with want
for sleep. It’s in the headache you get when your little brother
takes a few dollars from your wallet and you don’t know how to
react as his parent would.
    But then death promises it’ll
take your dad too and death isn’t here and there. It’s through your
bones, weighing you down when you hit the snooze button on your
alarm clock ten times.
    And eventually, death becomes
the most attractive thing and your purpose for living, when you
accept it.
    That’s where my dad’s wrong.
He’s too out of shape for death yet.
    “ Here you go,”
Elliot says, sliding my steaming cup in front of me.
    I thank him, dump in an extra
sugar packet for a boost and lick the froth. He’s still there.
Looking up, I smile and wobble my head, asking if there’s anything
else.
    He peers over his shoulder and
seemingly satisfied, takes the seat next to me. “I’ve been thinking
of something since you came here last.”
    “ Oh?” I gulp
at my coffee just to do something, then have to mask the
oh-my-it’s-scalding issue as a result of my awkwardness.
    Elliot pulls out his cell on
the table and taps the screen. “There’s something wrong with
it.”
    Confused, I
look at the unmarked screen, then turn it around in my hand,
feeling the edges. “Its electronics don’t work?” More like, what does this have to do with
me?
    “ It was fine
until last week but since then I’ve been dying to text or call you
and the problem is I can’t because I don’t have your
number.”
    Again I scald my tongue, but it
pierces me with enough pain on top of my pre-existing burn that I
will not do it again.
    I hadn’t expected this, but I’d
thought about it once when I’d seen him before. Not all week,
though. No, that was reserved for imagining tracing Dex’s tattoos
with my finger and wondering what the bar from his eyebrow ring
would feel like under his skin, and then the image of me that close
had me thinking about the way his square jaw would flex and work
when he got mad, which I’m too ashamed to admit is possibly the
sexiest thing.
    “ That’s a
phone problem I can fix.” I type in my number and prank call my
cell.
    He needs to be able to contact
me again if we’re going to chat more. I give him my number because
I figure who cares? Dex doesn’t. He has Raych and has made it clear
he doesn’t want me.
    Elliot scans
the restaurant again and he sets his hands on the table, slipping
out of the seat. He bends down and kisses my cheek. That’s two
kisses in two weeks. The most I’ve received from someone other than
family since my ex-boyfriend dumped me, but that was so long ago
I’ve forgotten how long it’s
been.
    “ Thanks,” I
say.
    He walks away blushing. I’m
happy I can make someone feel that way. Granted, I’m still waiting
for the wave of euphoria, but the rest of the drink at The Crooked
Shelf is much better than it was before.
    I text
Elliot, Glad to fix your phone for you.
Chat soon.
    When I get to
my car parked across the street, he’s replied with, Loved seeing you today. And yes, my phone should
have a better week.
    For the five or so minutes it
takes to drive to Darcy’s school, I replay Elliot’s face when he
pulled out his phone, my growing embarrassment each time I remember
thinking his phone was literally broken, and that, although cheesy,
he’s the type of guy I’ve been looking for. Right?
    I smile all the way up to
Darcy’s classroom, where he’s huddled in the middle of a group of
boys from his class. Seeing him like this eases my guilt that my
personality of a wet sock doesn’t affect my little brother here
where he can forget our issues.
    As I approach they’re making
weird sounds. What are they laughing at? One boy yells, “That’s so
mean!” and another slaps his back and says, “It’s just a
picture.”
    “ Hey,
Darce.”
    Darcy jumps, and I can feel his
body shaking