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“Hey Bree, you know that party at Elliot’s place?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, Avery’s here and I think she’s wasted. She’s just… sobbing. Can you come pick her up? I think she should go home.”
“Yeah, oh my God, is she okay?”
“Um…”
Bree hears faint whispering over the phone, but the words are drowned out by the music that’s playing.
“She won’t talk to anyone.”
Bree curses under her breath, “fuck. I’m on my way.”
Bree hangs up almost immediately and just hopes Olivia had nothing else to say that was overly important.
She grabs her keys and practically runs to her car.
“Hey, where is she?”
Bree feels self-conscious. Everyone’s dressed to the nines, and she’s turned up in sweatpants and a graphic T-shirt with a cat on it.
That’s fine, Bree decides. She’s on a mission. Get in, get out. She won’t be here for long.
“Hey, yeah, just here.”
She lets Olivia drag her into the backyard, and sure enough, there by the pool, with her back pressed up against the fence, is Avery.
There’s a half-empty cup of god-knows-what beside her on the grass.
Bree stops. Avery looks awful.
Her knees are pulled to her chest, her hair is sticking to her cheeks, and her shoulders are shaking with her shallow breaths. Her face is blotchy and wet, she keeps pawing at her face, but her efforts are futile.
“Jesus.”
“I know.” Olivia says, “She’s been like that for twenty minutes.”
Bree crouches in front of her.
“Avery?”
Avery looks up. Her eyes are glassy and pick up the lights from the bottom of the pool.
She looks- stares at Bree. Trying to make sense of what’s in front of her. Then her face crumples.
“Hey, hey, what happened?” Bree says, moving in closer.
“I don’t know.” Avery forces out through hiccups and shaky inhales.
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know.” Avery starts crying harder.
“Okay, okay. That’s okay.”
Bree turns to Olivia. “Do you know how much she drank?”
“No… she was fine when she got here, and that was like… two hours ago?”
“Fuck, okay.”
Bree turns back to Avery and cups her cheek. “Can you get up for me?”
“Why?”
“I’m gonna take you home.”
“I don’t wanna go home,” Avery pouted.
Fuck that was cute, even with her face covered in tears and snot. Bree was almost convinced to let her stay.
“I know, but it’s time.”
“No.”
“Avery.”
“I’m having so much fun.”
Bree looks around at the backyard. They are huddled in the furthest corner from everyone else, everyone drinking, laughing and singing by the pool. Then she looks back at Avery, sitting on the grass and crying so hard she can barely breathe.
“Sure you are, but I’m taking you home anyway.”
Bree stands up, and Avery seems to have conceded, her arms outstretched and making little grabby hands at Bree.
Avery sways as soon as she’s off the ground.
“Shit.”
The smell of alcohol is sharp on Avery’s breath.
“Come on, I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay.” Bree drapes Avery’s arms around her shoulder and slides her own around Avery’s waist.
Avery’s putting all her weight on Bree; they almost fall into the pool with how off-balance they are.
Bree thanks Olivia and continues guiding Avery to the car.
“Bree, I don’t wanna…”
“Why not?”
“What if I throw up in your car?” For a second, it looks as if this hypothetical is enough to make Avery cry even harder.
“Then you throw up in my car. I can deal with it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, Avery. But ideally you’d tell me before you threw up.”
They’re sitting in the car now. Bree’s driving in silence.
She thanks the road for keeping her eyes away from her distraught girlfriend; otherwise, she’d get so worried she might be the one to start crying. Bree tries to tell herself Avery is just a sad drunk.
Nothing bad is happening, nothing bad has happened.
She repeats that in her head through the drive. There’s not much else to focus on, other than the sound of Avery sniffling.
Bree thinks she might be falling asleep. At the last red light, she had stolen a glance and turned the air conditioning higher when she saw the faraway look in Avery’s eyes.
“Bree, are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at you. I’m just worried.”
“Are you sure?”
There’s this distinct sadness in Avery’s voice that seems real. Not something produced by a mixture of alcohol and the moon, but something deeper.
Bree doesn’t comment on that; instead, she says, “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Do you think Mom will be mad?”
“Why would she be mad?”
“I snuck out.”
“Well, I can help you sneak back in, but if she catches us, I’m throwing you under the bus.”
“She’s asleep.”
“Then-”
“Do you think she’d be mad if she knew?”
“Avery, what is there to be mad about? Underage drinking? I mean, maybe she’d ground you, but it wouldn’t be that bad.”
Avery goes silent.
Bree wonders if that was her fault.
She looks over at Avery, tears still quietly rolling down her face. She seems lost in thought.
“Aves?”
Avery shakes her head and turns to look out the window.
After a few minutes, Bree thinks she has finally fallen asleep; the night had carried her off.
It hasn’t.
“Am I annoying when I’m drunk?”
“No. Not at all.”
Avery doesn’t speak after that.
Bree parks a little way away from Avery’s house.
“You can just drop me off here.”
“Not a chance.”
“Seriously, Bree, I’ll be fine.”
Bree didn’t bother responding, instead she takes Avery’s hand to help her step down from the car. Avery’s silent after that too.
Bree fishes through the pocket of Avery’s jorts to find her keys, then unlocks and opens the front door as quietly as physically possible.
And not when Bree leads Avery down the corridor to her room in pitch black so they don’t risk waking Avery’s mom.
It’s only when Bree sets Avery down on the closed lid of the toilet seat and starts squinting in the dark to find Avery’s toothbrush that Avery says something.
“Do you think I’m a good person?”
Bree felt her suspicions being confirmed. This was not just Avery being a sad drunk.
“I think you’re a great person.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I do. Do you think I’d be dating someone if I thought they were a bad person?”
Avery shrugs.
“You’re such a good person, baby.” Bree uses every cell of effort in her body to soften her tone. Make sure it’s gooey enough that Avery can absorb it like a sponge.
Avery starts crying again.
“No I’m not.”
Bree feels her chest tighten.
“Why do you think that?”
“You don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“I’m becoming him.”
Avery’s voice hitches and cracks. She pulls her knees up to her chest. It takes her longer than it should; she seems to be having trouble balancing without both feet on the ground. But she does it and continues to cry.
“Who?”
Bree strokes her fingers through Avery’s hair, hoping the backwards motion would coax Avery’s head up to look at her.
It didn’t. But it did pull an answer out of her.
So quiet it almost disappeared.
“Dad.”
Bree freezes for a moment; she isn’t sure how to respond.
She hates to admit it, but she had researched relationship tips and tricks in her free time. But no amount of wikiHow articles or Reddit posts prepared her for this.
What to do if your girlfriend hints at deep-rooted daddy issues you’ve been secretly suspecting since day one, while incredibly drunk at one am?
She wants to ask but doesn’t. She’s so afraid of making it worse.
Instead, Bree just hugs her. Avery leans into it, so she must be doing something right.
Either that or Avery’s losing her balance again.
“I hide. And I make everyone worried about me. I don’t tell mom anything. I don’t tell you anything. I just disappear.”
“You’re telling me right now.”
“Someone else had to call you to come get me, because I snuck out alone to a party I wasn’t even invited to.”
Bree wants to point out that most people aren’t invited to those parties. They just show up. Instead she rubs circles into Avery’s back.
“He’d leave. He’d just go somewhere and disappear. He wouldn’t answer anything, and Mom would worry.”
Bree listens.
“I’m just making her worry.”
A pause.
“She came into my room and asked me if I was okay.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“Nothing. She kept asking, but I said nothing.”
Avery’s fingers curl into the fabric of Bree’s shirt.
“Then I left.”
“Maybe you needed a change of scenery. Fresh air.”
Avery shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Bree tries to pivot; she feels like she’s reached a dead end. It’s like this is one of those story games where she has to tread lightly to avoid completely shutting down the interaction.
“Why was she asking you how you were? Did something happen?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Guess she didn’t pivot far enough.
“Okay.”
Bree nods. She doesn’t ask for anything else.
She finds Avery’s toothbrush and squeezes a bit of toothpaste onto the bristles. “Here, Aves.”
Avery takes it but doesn’t move.
“You have to brush your teeth, baby.”
She can smell the alcohol every time Avery exhales; it can’t be good for her teeth.
“I smell it.”
“What?”
Avery covers her mouth. “The alcohol.”
Bree softens her expression. “Yeah, you drank quite a bit.”
“I can taste it. I smell like it.”
Bree can visibly see Avery spinning out; Bree wants to bring her back, tether her back to the present. Like tying a balloon around her wrist.
“It’s okay, that’s why you’re brushing your teeth.”
“I hate it.”
“I know, baby. It will go away once you brush your teeth.”
“No, it won’t.”
Bree bites the inside of her cheek.
Avery breathes into the inside of her hand.
Again and again.
“It’s still there.”
“Baby, it will go away once-”
“I can still smell it.”
“Of course you can, you’ve been-”
“I don’t want to smell like-” Avery throws her head back and sobs. Her arms limp at her sides. Toothbrush forgotten.
Bree pries it from Avery’s fingers; she will take matters into her own hands. Maybe she’ll stop panicking once the smell is gone.
“Look at me.”
Avery does.
“Open your mouth for me.” Bree tilts Avery’s head up.
Avery listens and opens her mouth.
Bree starts brushing Avery’s teeth. Slowly, carefully, making sure she gets all the way to the back without poking Avery in the throat.
Avery’s eyes blink slowly. She looks exhausted.
“Just like that,” Bree murmurs, “keep doing exactly that.”
Avery makes a noise around the toothbrush, the foam consuming any coherent words that would have come out of her mouth.
“What was that?”
Avery shakes her head, and Bree decides not to push.
She moves the brush carefully over each tooth, stabilising Avery’s head with her palm. Small gentle strokes. Bree just doesn’t want to hurt her.
It feels so deeply intimate. Wiping drool off of Avery’s face before it runs down her chin. There’s nothing pretty about it. Avery’s hair is a mess, her eyes are swollen from crying, and her gums have started bleeding a little.
Bree thinks she’s beautiful anyway.
Here like this, she’s especially beautiful. Letting Bree take care of her like this.
She’s running the toothbrush over Avery’s tongue when she gags, and pushes Bree’s arm away.
“Shit, I’m sorry, baby. Sorry.”
Bree leans down to kiss Avery on the head. Desperate to make sure her girlfriend would still trust her. Trying to retcon the accident, cover it up with affection.
It seems to work. After a few coughs, Avery’s ready again, mouth open waiting for Bree.
Afterwards, Bree guides Avery to a stand before the sink, Avery has to white-knuckle the counter to stay upright.
Her girlfriend is so much taller than her, but she looks so small. Bree wants to put Avery in her pocket, carry Avery around in a pendant next to her heart, hold Avery in her hands and pet her gently with one finger.
Bree can’t tell if Avery is consciously making herself smaller, or if it’s ingrained so deep inside of her that she isn’t aware of it anymore.
Bree cups her hand under the tap. “Rinse.”
She lets Avery drink the water straight from her palm. Watches Avery’s cheeks as she swirls the water around; they’ve puffed up and if Avery weren’t so visibly distressed, Bree would think it was adorable.
She does anyway, to be fair.
Avery spits into the sink. Bubbles. Thin white ribbons of toothpaste disappear down the drain.
“Is it gone?” Avery asks.
“Yeah, it’s way better.”
“So it’s not gone?”
“It will be gone in the morning.”
Bree brings Avery to her room. She collapses face first into her bed.
“Don’t you wanna change first?”
Bree watches Avery think, or rather, struggle to think.
“Can you help me?”
Avery’s moved to sitting on the edge of her bed, her hands gripping tight around her knees.
“Sure.”
Avery sticks her arms in the air, straight above her head. She waits.
It’s cute.
“Okay.” Bree says, reaching for the hem of Avery’s shirt and pulling it over her head. She apologises when Avery’s bangs get thrown around in the process.
Avery only puts her arms down when Bree reminds her.
Bree thinks she might implode.
Avery falls onto her back and lies down, kicking her legs in the air to take off her jorts instead of standing up. Bree stifles a giggle.
Bree’s helping Avery put on a sleep shirt when she hears it.
“She deserved so much better.”
“Who did?”
It’s like Avery didn’t hear her, “She had a life before me.”
“Baby, what are you talking about?”
“I tied her down to him. She had friends and passions and hobbies. And things she wanted to do. And then she had me.”
Bree doesn’t know what to say to that.
She knows the feeling all too well. Not exactly, but enough.
She doesn’t know what to say, because she doesn’t know what she would want to hear.
She’ll try her best for Avery.
“She loves you.”
“Because she has to.”
“Because you’re someone worth loving.”
Avery pouts, mumbles something Bree can’t quite catch.
She doesn’t think it was meant for her anyway.
Bree just tenderly pushes Avery’s shoulders, getting her to lie down, and starts pulling the blankets up over Avery.
Her bed is a mess and Bree isn’t surprised at all.
There are pillows on the floor in the immediate vicinity of her bed, and stuffed animals even further away.
Bree picks them up, and starts arranging them around Avery, who’s lying down, observing with wide eyes. She gets Avery to lift her head to place a pillow beneath it, and lines up all of Avery’s little stuffed animals against the wall.
Bree saves this mangy looking dog plushie for last. Attempting to fluff out the patches of fur, she assumes the grey sections were once white.
Avery’s too tired or too wasted to be embarrassed.
Bree knows it’s her favourite. She makes a mental note to ask her about it another day.
To ask about all of this another day.
She carries it with the utmost respect, before handing it directly to Avery.
“She deserved so much better than him and he’s half of me…” Avery says, her eyes seem like they’re looking through Bree.
“Doesn’t mean you have to be him.”
“What if I already am?”
“You aren’t.”
Bree says it before she can think too hard about whether she has any right to.
“If you were him you wouldn’t be scared of being him.”
Avery seems to be processing that, she hugs the dog tighter to her chest.
Bree has to go, technically she also snuck out tonight. She presses a soft kiss to Avery’s forehead and turns for the door.
“Are you leaving?”
“I have to go home, Aves.”
Avery’s face falls, “but-”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Can you- nevermind. Goodnight, Bree.”
Bree knows what Avery was going to ask.
“If you want, I can stay until you fall asleep?”
Avery nods, “please.”
Bree sits near the edge of Avery’s bed, cross legged, taking Avery’s hand in hers. Watching as Avery’s eyes close.
It doesn’t take long for Avery’s breathing to even out, and for her hand to go limp in Bree’s.