BackWash

Chapter 3: Baby Steps

"The sunrise is the best, don't you agree, Gabs?" Matt asks me.

Watching the sunrise was our thing. Matt and I were always very close. Other kids found it peculiar that we didn't really fight much because, after all, that's what siblings are supposed to do, but not Matt and I. No, we were best friends.

"The very best," I smile at him, agreeing with him.

I was his big sister. I was supposed to protect him.

"Hey, Gabs?" Matt asks hesitantly. He sits down beside me in the golden sand, watching the sunrise over the blue ocean.

"Mhmm?" I reply with my eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the glittering sun.

"I love you," he tells me, authentic to who he is.

I open my eyes and turn to face him. I grin and offer him my hand. He sees my gesture and takes my hand into his. We perform our famous sibling handshake and then laugh simultaneously at each other. 

"I love you too, Matt," I reply, giving his hand another squeeze before releasing him. I draw him in and give him a playful noogie which results in me landing up in the cold, morning sea.

The familiar voices begin to grow louder as the people speaking begin to get closer. I rip myself away from my callous memories and glance down at my wristwatch. It's a little over five in the morning, which can only mean one thing, they're coming and I'm too late.

I was supposed to leave at four but I got carried away and lost track of time.

I have no doubt in my mind that they've all already seen my car standing in the parking lot. They must know I'm here. It's too late to simply leave. This is my nightmare.

I stand up frantically, quickly surveying the area to see if there's somewhere where I can hide. There's no place to lay low except within the ocean itself. 

I mean...I could bury myself alive...

I sigh and shake off the thought. 

I need to mentally prepare for what's around the corner. I'm not ready to speak to them or see any of them, not after all that's happened. This would be easier if Brent were here but I know for a fact that he's gotta be at home dealing with a hangover.

I close my eyes and try to control my breathing. My heart slams against my ribcage when the voices and the footsteps stop just a few feet ahead of me. 

Maybe they're not here, maybe my mind is playing tricks on me again. One day, I was so hell-bent that Matt was standing right next to me. I was talking to him. It wasn't a memory. It was real, it felt so real. But then Brent came and asked who I was talking to, and just like that, Matt vanished and the spell broke.

I force my eyes open. My heart drops when I turn to see them, a group of people I once held dear to me. They're all staring at me in utter disbelief -- most likely because I'm standing here on the shore where it all happened. From what they know, I don't step foot near the ocean anymore. Only Brent knows that I still come here every once in a while to hold onto precious memories, to feel Matt's presence again.

Tyler's, unsurprisingly, is the first to break the silence, "Gabriela?" 

All I can do is nod.

Tyler frowns, puzzled. His dark eyes flash in confusion. "I-I..." he falters, at a loss for words. 

I watch him intently, waiting for him to say something. 

He clears his throat with an awkward cough before continuing, "I didn't know that you still come here."

My heart constricts at hearing his words. My heart automatically begins to race. I'm nervous. I suppose it has to do with the fact that this beach was the last place where I saw Matt alive. After that, he was just gone. 

I'm convinced that Matt's spirit remains here even if his physical body is gone. His legacy has become one with the ocean. He now watches me from beyond the horizon. I don't know what is out there but I know a part of Matt hasn't left.

"Tyler," Stella remarks with indignance and, not so discreetly, elbows him in his side. 

At least, Tyler has the decency not to sugar-coat things. I admire his bluntness. I don't want them to look at me in the way that they're looking at me now. I'm not a charity case. They don't realize it but their sympathetic gazes are what drove me away from them in the first place.

Brent has never been that way. He used quite the opposite approach with me. He lost his sister to a freak accident a couple of years back before Matt died so he's able to relate to me. 

Feeling intimidated under all of their gazes, I squirm uncomfortably and make a move to get past them so that I could go home and forget this ever happened. 

"Hey, Gabs," Caleb, being Caleb, says nonchalantly as he takes a step toward me.

I shy away from his greeting, feeling smothered. Their presences are overbearing and I feel like I'm suffocating under the weight of their concerned expressions. 

Of course, Caleb would be the bold one and try to rekindle the friendship I once shared with all of them.

"I have to go," is all I manage to say. My anxiety is just about crippling me and I'm finding it incredibly difficult to breathe. "If you'll all excuse me," I whisper, refusing to meet their worried gazes.

Before I get the chance to maneuver my way past them, a hand shoots up and wraps itself around my wrist. I'm brought into a familiar, warm body. My breath hitches and I swallow back my tears at the feeling of comfort. I look up and meet Caleb's eyes. He smiles down at me and tugs me to his chest.

He never was one to give up easily.

I smile slightly as he continues on embracing me like it's no one's business. Talk about awkward. I haven't spoken to him in two years and the first thing he can think of doing upon seeing me again is to hug the life out of me. 

A soothing feeling washes over me. I feel safe, protected. Hesitant, I slowly reach my hands up to hug him back but it's too much, too fast. I drop my hands to my side and allow myself to relax in his arms and drown in the calm he's providing instead -- God knows I need it.

"Dude," Duke clears his throat and pulls Caleb off of me. He saw my initial reaction only -- discomfort.

Strangely, I feel a loss as Caleb is yanked away from me. 

Caleb shrugs and sends Duke a questioning look, unable to understand why he has to let me go. He doesn't understand what I've gone through and he's unable to consider how him entering my personal space might make me feel. To him, nothing has to change. To him, we never stopped being friends. 

I've missed Caleb's optimistic outlook on life. Honestly, I just miss him, all of him, and all of them.

"I should go," I mumble almost inaudibly while fumbling with my fingers.

"But why?" Caleb asks me, confused.

Seeing his bewildered expression pulls at my heartstrings. He makes me feel nostalgic. I wish I could rewind time and then pause on the days when I was happy and when I had my friends and Matt.

"I-I..." I stumble for an explanation. It doesn't matter. He won't understand. I fall silent again, giving up.

I quickly move past them and head for the wooden stairs, hidden in the sand, that lead back to the parking lot.

"Gabriela, wait!"

I squeeze my eyes shut. I was so close to getting away without any further interruptions. 

I reluctantly face Tyler again and raise my eyebrows at him. "Mhm?" I mumble shyly.

"See you around," he concludes in confidence and sends me a charming grin. 

For an instant, my heart stops at the gesture. His smile is contagious. It's addicting and heartwarming. And that's why, impulsively, all on my own accord, my lips lift up into a soft and timid smile in return. 

"Maybe." I nod at him appreciatively. 

His smile widens and his eyes light up. "Cool."

Then I leave him and the others to their surfing, a sport that I really miss.

*~*~**~*~*

"I'm telling you, Brent, it was awful," I fill him in on what happened early this morning. "It was downright terrible. I wasn't ready for that." 

Brent reaches for another cheese puff and stuffs it into his mouth like a caveman. He resembles a hamster with his pouching cheeks. I'm almost tempted to laugh. He has an obsession with puffs and a nasty obsession with stuffing his face -- very ungentlemanly like if you ask me. To top it all off, he tends to speak with his mouth full. Perhaps I should take the blame on that one. I don't give him the chance to first swallow after I've fired my many questions at him.

"Gabba, you were more than ready. It's been two years. How long are you planning to avoid them? Sooner or later, you are bound to bump into them again," Brent comments through a mouthful of cheese puffs.

He sees my narrowed stare as I weigh the implications of what he just said in my head. He doesn't realize the impact of his words until he sees my expression. He's quick to chew and swallow before turning to face me properly. "I'm sorry, Gabriela. I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah?" I ask defensively, offended by his comment. "Then how did you mean it like?"

Brent's face falls at the harshness behind my tone. I can't help but be beside myself. What he just said cuts and it cuts because he is so right, right in more ways than I want to admit.

"I just meant...look, Gabriela, I think you have made progress. Baby steps. The way I see it, you did well today. From my perspective, this was a good thing. You had to face them some time or another," he explains himself and I instantly feel guilty for snapping at him. 

He's just trying to help me. That's all he does lately, help me. I'm the one in his debt. I have no right to be mad at him.

A small smile graces my lips but I'm quick to hide it when I see Brent perplexed by it. "You think?" I ask softly and rather insecurely.

Brent flashes me a heart-throbbing grin. "Of course, Gabba," he says reassuringly and places his right hand over mine. "Caleb hugged you and Tyler suggested that he missed you. Even Stella and Duke, in their own way, showed their longing to have their friend back. They were never mad at you, Gabriela, just confused as to why you left them. But the great thing about true friends like yours is that they always come back to you."

I fall quiet, thinking over his words.

After visiting Matt and running into my old buds, I decided to drop by at Brent's place. Just like expected, he was hungover from the college party. I woke him up before offering him Advil. Fortunately, he sobered up by the time the afternoon came.

"Brent, I'm sorry," I say earnestly. "I'm sorry that when I lost Caleb, Tyler, Stella, Duke, and Jacob, that I made you lose them too. I never acknowledged it. I never acknowledged how I ruined your life along with mine."

Brent chuckles, amused. "You make it sound like you're having my baby or something." 

I blink up at him and move my hand away, waiting for him to give me an actual response other than that. 

"I never lost them, Gabriela. I mean...I guess I did, in a sense, but I was never that close with them, to begin with," he informs me. "I always chilled with a different friend group at school in any case. You guys were all just my surfing buds. That was it."

My face falls at this and I take offense. 

He never considered himself to be real friends with us?

"Hey..." Brent notices my hurt expression. He lifts my chin so that I'm looking straight up at him. "You know it's true, Gabba, but I'm here now and we're friends now. That's what counts, right?" 

I nod. It what counts the most.

"Good," he smirks before placing a soft kiss of reassurance against my cheek.

I glance around Brent's lounge, envying the fact that he has his own place. He moved out of his parent's house at the age of eighteen, meaning he's been living by himself for an entire year now. I wish I was half as successful as him. He's intelligent, majoring in medicine, while still working as a tutor to pay his rent. Everyone knows him, everyone loves him. To put it simply, he's the town's golden boy.

"I've been meaning to ask you for a favor," I state aloud, deciding to stop beating around the bush.

"Anything for you, Gab," he winks at me playfully, waiting for me to speak.

"Are you free tonight?" I ask slowly, feeling a little uncertain. 

I don't want him to reject my request. He's my friend and all and I know it's ridiculous to feel nervous to ask a friend for a small favor but somehow I always feel anxious when I have to depend on Brent for anything. I'm afraid I overstep boundaries with him. I don't want to lose him but I fear that he'll eventually grow tired of always looking after me. 

"Is this your way of asking me out, Gabriela?" Brent asks, his lips slowly tugging up into a smile, giving him away. 

I roll my eyes at his insinuation. "No, it's me asking you to accompany me to a dinner tonight with Chase's family," I answer bluntly, getting to the point.

"Oh," Brent says dryly before adding, "sure. You're definitely going to need me there."

"Indeed," I nod, agreeing with him.

I tried to fight my mother on this but, apparently, Chase's father is insisting on seeing me again. Mom says that it would be impolite to refuse the invitation. Now, I feel inclined to go and if I'm going, I'm dragging Brent with me. There is no way I can handle an entire evening in the presence of Chase by myself.

*~*~**~*~*

"It's so wonderful seeing you again, Gabriela. It's been so long despite living right next door to each other," Mr. Fuller comments thoughtfully as he takes a bite of the creamy pasta that his wife prepared for us.

Generally, the table has been silent. The only noise to be heard is the clanking of knives and forks -- either the food is really good or the company is really awful.

"Yeah," is all I manage to get out, nodding, and agreeing with the man sitting before me. I don't miss the scolding look my mother sends me. In her eyes, short responses are rude. To her, it signifies a lack of manners. "I've just been very busy lately," I add for my mother's sake.

"Well, I'm glad you're here this evening," Mrs. Fuller chimes in, her husband nodding fervently in agreement. 

"Me too," I mumble dejectedly under my breath. I avert eye contact almost immediately. I don't like lying. 

Everyone at the becomes silent again, almost as if they all know that I'm not speaking the truth. I want to want to be here. I really do. But my brother is dead and I have a hole in my heart. It's not the same eating here without Matt and without my dad.

"So, Chase, Hon, hows your studies going?" my mother breaks the silence next.

I'm really not on good terms with him at the moment, not after our squabble the other day. Chase will never let go and it's my fault.

Chase's head snaps up at hearing his name. He seems surprised that someone is actually addressing him. He's quick to swallow his mouthful of food before answering her, "Fine." 

My mother nods and tries to work with that. "What are you studying again?" she asks him, trying to make conversation, trying to show her investment in his life.

Can't she catch a hint? Chase doesn't want to speak.

"Actuarial Science," he answers with a tight smile. His eyes betray him. I see through him. He hates what he's currently studying.

Chase's father seems to brighten up at Chace's response. He sends a proud smile in his son's direction before adding his input into the conversation, "Yes, my boy is so bright. He's doing brilliantly. He'll be working toward his Masters soon."

It's really no surprise that Chase is studying mathematics. He's always been super intelligent. He's an overachiever, an all-star if you will. He would have been our valedictorian had he not graduated school early. 

Chase used to tutor me in chemistry and math. He's always been a math wiz.

"Yeah. That's always been the plan," Chase mumbles, defeated, staring down at his plate with an empty look to his eyes.

I raise my eyebrows at him skeptically. He's so unhappy. I feel for him. He never gets the option of making his own decisions because both of his parents are controlling, especially his father. Mr. Fuller is a very opinionated man.

"Very impressive," my mom congratulates him and then beams at him in pride, failing to see what I see. "I remember that you, from young, were always defined by your intellectual abilities. I'm glad you're putting those brains to use. You're gifted, my boy."

I watch for Chase's reaction. He seems upset. To him, what my mom just said isn't a compliment. It's an insult. I know for a fact that he never wanted to be defined by his intelligence. He once told me that himself.

Chase used to be down-to-earth and humble. To me, those are the traits that defined him growing up. However, lately, I'm not so sure. Ever since he's become well known for his semi-pro surfing status, people idolize him. From my perspective, he's grown to be rather obnoxious and arrogant about it.

This time, it's Mrs. Fuller who breaks the uncomfortable silence. "So, are you two going to Chase's reunion party too?" she asks, changing topics. Her eyes shift from me to Brent, patiently waiting for one of us to answer her. 

I glance at Brent and we exchange a look. He raises his eyebrows in query, giving himself away -- he also didn't know about it. 

I open my mouth to answer but before I can even get one word out, Chase drops his fork in anger and narrows his eyes at his mother. "Mom," he scolds through clenched teeth, trying to send her a message with his eyes.

I wince at the sound of his fork shattering against his glass plate. It's obvious he doesn't want Brent and me there. I'm not fazed by it. It's not as if I'm dying to be surrounded by all my old friends in any case.

Mrs. Fuller catches on and drops the subject but it's too late, we've all caught on already.

Mr. Fuller places a hand over his wife's hand as if to reassure her that all is fine at the table. Once he sees that she's alright, he turns a lethal glare onto his son. "Chase, don't be rude."

This time, it's Chase who shuts his mouth.

Chase has always respected his parents but it's more than that. It's almost as if he's terrified of his father. I know Mr. Fuller can be frightening when he's angry but thankfully, I've never been on the receiving end of it. Nonetheless, I've seen him unleash it on Chase and it isn't pretty. 

When we were younger, Mr. Fuller would take Chase into his room if he misbehaved, and then I'd hear the loud, bashing noises. Chase would only be allowed to come out of his room an hour later. His eyes were always rimmed red and I always figured that he'd been crying. When I asked him about it, he always changed the subject. He never wanted to speak about it.

"Yes, Dad. Sorry," Chase mutters under his breath, watching his father cautiously. It's almost as if he's waiting for his father to lose his temper and slap him senseless like the last time he had the audacity to backchat him.

His father ignores his apology and brushes it aside as if nothing happened. 

Mrs. Fuller directs her gaze to Brent, specifically because Brent hasn't said much nor has he been included in the conversation much. "Would you two like to accompany Chase to his reunion party?"

Brent glances my way with a wary expression. He wants me to step in because he doesn't know how to handle this one.

Mr. Fuller sees our uneasiness about the topic and clears his throat, taking over from his wife. "You two are more than welcome to join. Don't mind my son." 

At that moment, I happen to look Chase's way. He avoids my gaze but I can see the irritation flashing behind those blue eyes. Honestly, his expression is probably no different to mine. I'd rather stay behind and gouge my eyes out with a spoon than spend another second in Chase's company. He's unpleasant to be around.

However, I still think it's me. It's not Chase, it's me. Every time I see him, see what a mess he is, I feel guilty because I know I'm responsible. That guilt, it eats me from the inside out. It's dreadful. I can only imagine how much worse he must be feeling.

Brent nudges me in the ribs with his elbow in a very subtle fashion, reminding me that we are being spoken to.

I glance back up to see Mr. Fuller waiting for an answer. I'm quick to reply, "Raincheck, Sir. I'm not really up to a party tonight," I say courteously before adding, "but thank you for extending the invitation our way."

"Are you certain?" Mr. Fuller asks us, wanting to mend the obvious drift between Chase and me. But it's too late. The drift only extends each day. Our relationship can't be fixed in a single night.

There are days where I'm one hundred percent certain that we can never be friends again. Chase and I aren't the same people that we used to be. We've changed and so have our interests and perspectives on life. We hold different values now.

"It's not my scene," I tell him, making my decision clear. I'm not swaying on this. Being with Chase causes me too much pain, and I'm sure he feels the same about me. There are just far too many unresolved issues between us.

"No doubt," I hear a dark, menacing voice say quietly from beside me, so quiet that I'm the only one that hears. He's glaring at me from the corner of his eye again. When I don't bother reacting, his chair suddenly scratches against the floor as he stands up abruptly. "If you'll excuse me," he says to all of us seated at the table. "It's been an...interesting evening, but I have a party to get to."

"You're excused, Son," Mr. Fuller retorts, using his fork to gesture to Chase to take his dish with him.

Chase picks up his plate and walks out to the back of the kitchen to wash his dishes.  

I can still remember this one day where Chase forgot to wash his dishes. His father punished him severely for it. To this day, Chase never forgets to take his plate to the back room and wash it. According to his father, it's just manners. 

Chase's family has always been big on courtesy. His parents are the reason that he's so grounded, or was grounded. I can't vouch for him now because I don't know who he is anymore.

"You two can also be excused," Mr. Fuller smiles at Brent and me just as Chase returns from the kitchen. "Chase, take their plates to the kitchen for them, and then show them something that they can do to stay entertained while you're gone."

A frown finds it's way onto Chase's lips at the thought of washing our plate too. It almost seems like he wants to protest but, then, his father narrows his eyes at him and he's quick to fall back in line. 

The 'Fuller House' is a dictatorship for sure.

Fortunately, I jump out of my seat in time to intervene. I take my plate and Brent's so that Chase won't have to. "Don't worry, Mr. Fuller, I got it," I reassure him, clearing my throat, uncomfortable with the situation.

"Let my son wash the plates for you. You're a guest when you're in our home," Mrs. Fuller insists, backing her husband up. "Chase doesn't mind."

Clearly, he does mind.

I meet my mother's gaze with desperation. I hope she can read the look in my eyes. Fortunately, she catches the message and waves her hand at Mr. Fuller. "No worries, Gabriela can wash her own dishes," my mother chuckles playfully, trying to slice through the thick tension. 

I send her an appreciative smile, grateful that she stepped in.

"Chase, show Gabriela where the backroom to the kitchen is," Mr. Fuller agrees, deciding to let it go. I'm about to tell him that I'll be fine on my own but he stops me, "We've been revamping our house a little. The kitchen has changed immensely since you've last been here, Gabriela."

I glance at Chase's disapproving stare. He hates that he has to baby me in front of his parents. 

I find my voice and speak up again, "Really, that's not necessary, Sir. I'm sure I'll be able to find the back room on my own--"

"Chase, please," Mrs. Fuller interrupts me, "now," she orders kindly but her eyes are demanding. 

Chase is not usually the cheeky type. I know he'll listen to his mom. As predicted, he gives in and motions for me to follow after him. I do so and follow him down a new passageway that leads into the kitchen. He walks to the back of the kitchen and takes a right into a small room. 

They really have changed the house around. 

We stop in front of the kitchen basin.

"Here."

I snap out of my thoughts at hearing Chase's gentle tone of voice. 

"What?" I ask and glance up at him in confusion.

He gestures to the sink. "Here," he repeats and takes the dishes from my hands. 

I'm about to step forward and protest but he is already washing them for me.

"You don't have to do that," I mumble, caught completely off guard by his considerate actions.

This is something that thee old Chase would do.

He doesn't reply and begins to dry the dishes, leaving me to stare at him in bewilderment. It's not that I'm surprised that he's washing Brent's dish, I'm surprised because he's also washing my dish.

"You coming?" he asks me as he waits patiently for me in the hallway that leads back to the table. 

I pull myself from my thoughts and smile faintly at him. "Yeah, sorry," I nod and quickly jog up to his side before he can leave me to get lost in his massive house. 

As I walk beside Chase, memories flood my mind. My gaze lingers on him. He used to be different. We used to be inseparable. I miss him. I miss him like I miss Matt. The only difference is that Matt is dead and he's not. It's a big difference. Chase is here...right here next to me. I shouldn't have to miss him. The fact is, when Matt died, so did Chase. When I lost Matt, I lost Chase too. This person next to me is a stranger.

I shake it off and force my gaze ahead of me again.

"Brent is in the TV room," Mrs. Fuller tells me with a laugh as soon as we return to the table. "He insisted on playing some games on the Xbox when he heard we have one."

That's no surprise. Brent is a nerd at heart. He's obsessed with gaming. I like to join him occasionally if I get to blow some heads off; shooting games are the most fun -- they take your mind off reality for a bit.

"Well, I'm heading out now," Chase grumbles to his parents before turning to Brent and me, barely acknowledging our existence before he leaves out the front door to attend his 'welcome back' party.

I'm still dazed that Chase washed my plate. It may not seem like much but I think it counts as progress. Baby steps, after all, are a necessity before walking. I wonder...will Chase and I ever walk together again?

"Gabba?" Brent says my nickname affectionately, sensing that I'm pondering deeply on something. "You okay?"

I shake my head, being truthful. Brent has a knack for seeing through my lies. Besides, I hate lying to the people I love. "No. No, I'm not," I reply, uncertain.

Brent offers me an understanding smile before he makes space for me on the couch. He gives me a puppy-eyed look and pats the open seat next to him.

My lips quirk up at the kind gesture. "Thanks."

Brent is the sweetest. He's always so considerate of others. I love that about him. I love how much he cares. 

"Take it out on these suckers," he says the second that I sit down beside him. He hands me the other Xbox remote controller. "You seem to have a gift for it."

I gladly take the remote from his hands and begin unleashing my anger and sadness on the game. I start demolishing the opposing team. The outcome is a very impressed Brent and an emotionless, desensitized me.

I feel empty all the time. I never use to feel this way when Chase and Matt were still around. I don't quite know how to bring the old me back. I don't know how to bring back the old Chase either.

Matt...I really miss you right now.