Under the Influence

By

Ashleigh Catibog-Abraham

1 

Some say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. By that definition, Liberty has completely lost her mind. 

Other people have traits like humour or thoughtfulness. Liberty’s most notable character trait was repeating mistakes. Stupid mistakes at that. Most people learn from their mistakes and take action to make sure that they never repeat those mistakes again. But not Liberty. She was doomed to exist in an endless cycle of calculated misfortunate.

The morning was making its presence known when the sun peaked through a window with a bamboo plant on the ledge. Eventually the sun reached Liberty’s eyes and she was forced to wake up.  The iridescent glow from the snow made the sun even brighter that morning. Her eyes squinted to prevent the full blast of light blinding her. She kept her head laid upon a pillow. Her face was turned toward a frosted window with no curtain. There was a light snowfall. She struggled to open her eyes, as most people do when waking up in the morning from a deep slumber and wishing that she could go back to sleep. She rubbed her right eye with her right palm as her previous night’s mascara crusted and flaked onto her hand. She noticed that there was a calendar hanging on a cork board beside the window. She saw that it was the last day of January. The month of January always had so much heaviness attached to it. Many people thrive on the idea of re-creating themselves at the beginning of a new year. They change their hair or their exercise habits – they make strides to ensure that they leave the person they used to be in the past. Liberty wasn’t quite ready to let go of her past self. Change isn’t as easy as it seems. You become comfortable with routines and knowing what to expect. Liberty was comfortable. And sometimes being comfortable becomes a burden. 

Liberty’s nose caught a whiff of an undesirable scent. Her nose turned up and she almost gagged. She took several long inhales to try to locate the source of the stench. She grabbed a small part of her hair and put it to her nose. 

“Ugh,” she was repulsed by the smell of her hair and annoyed that she had to wash her hair after just curling it. 

Her hair smelled like it was washed in cigarette smoke, which she found odd because she wasn’t a smoker. She dropped the bit of her hair instantly to take the odour away from her face. Her eyes were wide open and she started to stretch her arms out when she realized that she was not in her room. It was sad to say but this was not the first time she has woken up in a stranger’s bed. The stink of a night not remembered still hung in the air. The unknown room smelled of alcohol, sweat, and regret – it was a typical Sunday morning. She glanced onto the hardwood floor to see her clothes scattered all over it. After locating her clothes, her curiosity started poking at her. She looked around the room in an attempt to remember the person she spent the night with. She kept staring at him long enough to hope that his name would just miraculous appear on his skin or pop into her head. She looked around the room again for clues to help her uncover the mystery.

The room was standard of any single man living in New York – he only had the essentials but he was a messy person. There was no sense of organization. Things were all over the place, and they seemed to be that way for an extended time frame. Liberty had often read that people who are messy are usually highly intelligent. But judging by the state of the room and the vague fog of last night’s events, she concluded that her new friend was just a slob. That’s when the self-hatred started to kick in. 

Not again, she thought to herself and let out a silent groan. She was pretending to be surprised by her actions but truth be told, after her third tequila sunrise things became hazy. 

She looked over to the other side of the bed to see the face of a man she’s never met. At least, a man she’s never met sober. He must have been the nicotine bandit, she thought. The man’s face was covered in stubble. His mouth was gaped wide open with a trickle of saliva running down the side of his cheek. The mornings are unkind to most. 

“Shit,” she whispered softly. She hit her forehead softly with frustrated disappointment. 

Liberty reached her hand out onto the bedside table while trying to dodge the empty bottles of beer and stale chips to fish out her cellphone. She looked at the time. It was 10 a.m. Sunday morning. 

“Oh G..” She caught her words before they left the tip of her tongue. They were about to release themselves to be louder than she had anticipated. She bit her lip nervously, she was always acting inappropriately - too bad she wasn’t able to suppress her incongruousness. More than ever she wished that she was the type of person who was able to walk out on a one night stand without feeling guilty. She was still going to do it, but she was going to feel terrible about it. All she had to do was get up. 

The feeling of the cold floor on her bare feet sent shivers up her spine and quick shudder of her teeth. Careful to not disturb last night’s mistake, Liberty scrambled to get herself together and get out of the unknown bedroom. She threw on her clothes that reeked of alcohol and shame. She attempted to inspect her appearance in a dirty mirror. But she was not as careful as she thought - suddenly, her one night stand awakened.

In a groggy tone he said, “Hey, great night last night.” This was the most common phrase that Liberty heard in her life. He chuckled as he rubbed his eyes. A smile that said that he slept like a baby throughout the night was permanently drawn on his face. Then he noticed Liberty’s haste to leave his apartment. He asked, “Where are you going?” 

“I actually have somewhere I have to be…” she searched her brain to remember his name, “…John?” She tried to mumble the name under her breath with the equal hope that he wouldn’t hear it and that it was his actual name. She bent over to grab her underwear from off the floor then shoved it into her purse. 

“Baby, my name’s Steve. Don’t you remember?”  He corrected her while looking disappointed like he was a child being denied a toy. His eyes were glossed with the sadness of not being able to be fawned over. He seemed to be the type of guy who always had girls lined up to date him. He wasn’t used to girls like Liberty who didn’t even know his name. 

“Oh right, yeah well I have to go.” Liberty interrupted his pity party of one and began slipping on her jacket and digging in her purse for her car keys. “I’ll see you around, Carl.” 

Liberty was a challenging girl; that made him want her even more. He had never faced this kind of blatant rejection before. He was convinced that she was just playing hard to get. Guys like Steve rarely understand the concept of a woman simply not being interested in dating them. He jumped out of bed before she got the chance to slide through the door and asked, “Can I call you? We should do this again sometime.” This was the second most common phrase that Liberty heard in her life. “And it’s Steve.” He corrected her again. Liberty wasn’t bad at remembering names. In fact, it was one of the skills that she took pride in. She just didn’t want to waste her time remembering the name of someone of whom she hoped she would never see again.  

“You know what, I’ll call you.” As Liberty was leaning in for a kiss on his lips, she realized that she hadn’t brushed her teeth yet. And much worse, he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet. She didn’t even know if he maintained regular oral care. Morning breath was bad enough on its own - the morning breath of a complete stranger was a whole other animal. She cringed at the thought. Before she could think too much about it, she dodged his lips and kissed his cheek then ran out before he had the chance to put on his underwear and take her out for breakfast.

Liberty stumbled out of his run-down apartment and into the street searching for any noticeable landmarks and her car. The brisk air hit her lungs and she inhaled it deeply. A puff of condensed air evacuated her mouth. A chill crept up her spine and she shivered for a brief moment. It was 10:15 am. 

I’m going to be so late, she thought as she fumbled with her keys. She located her car in the parking lot of the club she faintly remembered attending the night before. It was about a block away, but seemed farther due to the painful hangover she was trying to numb. She was lucky that she was so close to her car this time. Most nights, she wasn’t so fortunate. 

Liberty was eventually able to stagger over to her car which also happened to have a change of clothes in the backseat along with a bottle of mouthwash. She brushed off the light dusting of snow that covered her car and jumped into the driver’s seat. She put the keys into the ignition then sped off. Liberty contorted and twisted her body to drive quickly but also try and get into her change of clothes. She felt herself about to vomit multiple times but kept composed. She was a lady, after all. 

It was 10:33 a.m.

She was 3 minutes late when she finally arrived at her destination.

Her destination was a large church in the Upper West Side of New York. She dug in the bottom of her car to find her black flats. She put them on and got out of the car. Liberty sprinted up the stairs towards the closed door at the front entrance. She yanked the door open, slid in and said, “Ok, I’m here.” 

Fifteen pairs of eyes stared at her. They belonged to fifteen children. They were fifteen Sunday school children. Liberty was their teacher. She pulled the only empty seat at the table out and sat down. Glancing around at the other tables, she discovered that the activity for today was colouring. This was good news to Liberty. It was something she could handle in her still semi-inebriated state. 

“All right kids, just colouring for today. Miss Libby is feeling a little bit sick this morning so please only speak to her if you need to use the washroom.” Amidst burying her head in her arms on the table, a small voice spoke up and said, “Are you hung over?” Liberty’s head popped up like a jack-in-the-box tinged with disbelief. Her jaw nearly hit the table. Trying to find the right words, she uttered, “WHAT? Do you even know what that means?”

Another child chimed in, “My daddy said that it means when you have too much fun the night before and then you get sad because you can’t have fun the next day.”

“That’s kind of right,” Liberty felt her face flush. “Who taught you that word?” She directed this question to the first child. Children do say the darnedest things, but are often taught what to say by their parents. Often, what they are taught to say and do is nothing short of adorably funny. However, sometimes they are taught things that they have no business learning - she knew this to be true of the first child. 

“My mommy said it about you last Sunday. She said you’re always coming to church hung over.” Liberty knew exactly who the kid’s mother was: Mrs. Norbury. She was the head Sunday school teacher. She really had it in for Liberty ever since she started teaching there. Of course Liberty wasn’t exactly the most ideal Sunday school teacher, but at the very least she showed up when she was supposed to. Liberty dismissed the topic and told the class to return to their colouring. After class, Liberty approached Mrs. Norbury as she was picking up her son from the designated Sunday school area. 

“Mrs. Norbury, may I have a word with you please?” Mrs. Norbury was the most terrible kind of hypocrite. She preached about being a good person and treating others the way that you wanted to be treated, and yet she was always the first one to criticize Liberty whenever she made a mistake. She typically dressed in grey pant suits with her hair in a tight bun with a black rosary around her neck. Mrs. Norbury walked up to Liberty with her nose in the air as always. She constantly tried making Liberty feel inferior whenever she talked to her. She sighed, “What is it this time, Liberty?” 

“I just had an interesting conversation with your son. Joseph told me that you talked about me to him. You told him that I’m hung over all the time? Don’t you think that’s a bit rude and rather inappropriate to say to a child? I am his teacher and he needs to see that you respect me, otherwise he won’t respect me.”

“Liberty, don’t think you’re fooling anyone. Everyone knows that you don’t want to be here, and you’re not shy about showing it. No one can possibly take you seriously.” In a huff, Mrs. Norbury stormed off with her son and exited the church. Liberty rolled her eyes. 

“What a bitch,” she mumbled under her breath. The service was over and the church was empty. Liberty wandered into the first confessional on the right. She sat down, took a breath, and slid the latch on her right to show a glassless window lined with a grate. 

She made the sign of the cross and said, “Forgive me, Father for I have sinned. It has been…I don’t know how many days since my last confession. I accuse myself of the following sins.” Liberty had trouble with trying to detail what her sins actually were without bursting into flames in the confessional booth. The priest on the opposite side commented on Liberty’s silence. 

“What is troubling you, my child? You may tell me anything you’re comfortable saying.”

She inhaled deeply, “I don’t really know where to start. I sin, a lot. I mean, I don’t really consider myself that religious but it gives me a bit of a moral compass. Does that make sense? You see, Father, I have a lot of trouble making good decisions. This is especially so when it comes to casual sex and alcohol. I think it all started when I told my parents that I was bisexual…”

The divider between the two suddenly opened and the faceless voice said, “Libby?”

Liberty recognized the voice and screamed back, “Dad? I thought this was supposed to be confidential!” She scoffed and folded her arms. “You can’t just shatter the illusion like that every time you think you know who’s on the other side!”

“Yes, well…I’m your father! I have the right to know what’s going on with my own daughter!”

Liberty’s father was a minster in the church. He thought that Liberty being a Sunday school teacher would encourage her to make better choices and give her something to do while she was figuring out her life plan. He thought that it would give her a sense of purpose. She was a 20 year old college dropout who engages in underage drinking. He wasn’t naïve to the extra-curricular activities of normal college students, but Liberty was making it a habit that she became entirely too dependent on. He knew that Liberty was able to do better. But he just needed to give her time to grow on her own. They both withdrew from the confessional booth and sat in the nearest pew. Her father put his arm around her and crossed his right leg over his left one. 

“Libby, what was this mistake’s name?”

“Jack…Daniels?” She still couldn’t remember his name and she didn’t really want to. 

Liberty’s father stood up in anger. 

He put his hands on his hips and said, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do with you Libby. I really don’t like what you’ve been doing. You need to start taking your life more seriously. You need to go back to school, find a real job, find the right person, get married, and have a happy life. You know that I’m not going to be around forever.” His voice cracked. He sat back down beside Liberty. He was remembering her deceased mother. He was remembering how damaged Liberty became after that dreadful day. 

“Daddy, I do have a real job. I don’t necessarily need to go back to school, I’m fine as I am right now. ” Her father’s definition of a real job was waking up at five in the morning, working in an office, wearing a pant suit, and sitting at a desk for eight hours. That wasn’t the type of career she was particularly anxious about pursuing. She was a personal trainer. The most requested one in New York. She enjoyed the fact that she didn’t need to squeeze herself into uncomfortable work clothes and wake up early to do her makeup. But most importantly, she liked making a difference in people’s lives. She was able to fix other people, but not herself. She spent so much time sewing holes and mending fences for others that she forgot to do the same for herself. She thought, it was so much easier to help others face their problems instead of owning up to her own shortcomings. 

“I don’t want a real relationship right now either. I just want to enjoy my life right now. Please understand.” Liberty was an only child and the apple of her father’s eye, because of this she was able to get her way most of the time. He was never able to stay mad or say no to her. It became a real problem because even though he is a man of God, he does not try to guilt Liberty into making choices based on what he believes is right. Liberty being a Sunday school teacher was his way of ensuring that he at least saw her once a week. He gave her a smile that melted straight through into her heart. 

“Do you know why your mom decided to call you Liberty?”

She already knew the story. But she always loved hearing it. Liberty shook her head and her father took it as his cue to begin retelling Liberty her favourite love story.

“We moved here when your mom was pregnant with you. I had just gotten the job at the church shortly after being ordained. We picked up everything and moved out here right away. We struggled trying to decide what to call you. Your mom was so indecisive. Just like how you are. She wanted the perfect name. She was so excited to find out that we were having a girl. She wanted something beautiful but strong. Just like how she was. It was our last day in Philadelphia and we were passing by the Liberty bell and she yelled, ‘Stop! Stop the car!’ I put the car in park immediately. We were right in the middle of the road. I wasn’t even paying any attention to any other cars or anything else around me. Your mother was a wildcard, as I’m sure you remember. As soon as she got an idea about something, she was fixated on it until she followed through on it. So anyway, we got out of the car and walked right up to the Liberty bell. It was cracked, but still beautiful. She wanted to name you after it because she wanted you to know that…no matter what challenges you face, it will never tarnish your soul or your spirit.”

Liberty’s parents met at the University of Pennsylvania. Her mother was a poetry major and her father was a religious studies major. They were both in their final year and taking an introductory painting course as an elective. They were the only novice painters in the class. They bonded over their lack of talent for the craft but both enjoyed the calming effect of putting the brush to the canvas. A year later they married in Philadelphia before moving to New York. Her father’s family came from Trinidad and her mother’s family came from Columbia. When their respective families found out that they wanted to get married, they were both threatened with ex-communication. Shocked by their families’ archaic attitudes, her parents then decided that they didn’t need their families. They were going to be their own family. Liberty’s father took being exiled harder than her mother, so he turned even more to religion. Religion became such a big part of his life and his salvation that he decided that he wanted to be ordained. He got a priesthood position at a church in New York. So they moved and began their wonderful life together.

Tears welled up in Liberty’s eyes after her father finished his story. 

“So,” Liberty chimed in, “you and Mom decided to name me after a gigantic bell?”

“It was either that or Rocky.”

Liberty laughed. Her father ran his fingers through her hair and placed his hand on her cheek. He pulled her head close to his and kissed her forehead.

“I love you, Libby. I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Liberty wiped her tear stained face as she walked out to her car. Remembering her mom all at once with her father created a heavy feeling in her heart. She missed her mom so much. She missed Sunday pancakes, spa and movie dates, and singing Christmas carols in July. Her spirit made Liberty less apprehensive to look like a fool. Liberty always felt safe being who she was because her mom continually allowed her to be whoever she wanted. As Liberty was driving home, she glanced down at her phone. She had 29 missed calls. She knew that they had to be from her best friend and roommate, Emilee-Jessica, or M.J. She and Liberty had been best friends since the third grade. Growing up, Liberty wasn’t the most popular person. Before she met M.J., she kept to herself a lot because many of her peers would ostracize her. Since Liberty identified with two cultures, her school lunches were never the standard type of lunches that many of the other children her age would bring. Her lunches caught the particular attention of the school bully, Rhonda. Rhonda would always poke fun at Liberty for what she ate at lunch but mostly just for anything that she could make fun of Liberty for. Liberty’s mute nature allowed her to become an easy target for taunting. During recess one afternoon, Rhonda had pushed her into the mud. All the children gathered around Liberty in a circle while pointing and laughing at her misfortune. M.J. then broke her way through the crowd and punched the bully in the face. M.J. was always taught to never be aggressive except when necessary and she found the situation to be necessary. Ever since then, they became inseparable. 

When Liberty walked into her apartment, she was startled by a pillow being launched into her face. M.J. was always so serious but Liberty constantly encouraged her to loosen up. M.J. needed to be the responsible one in their friendship, especially these days. 

“WHAT THE HELL!” Liberty screamed as she dropped her purse onto the ground.

“WHAT THE HELL, LIB?! I WAITED UP FOR YOU FOR HOURS! What happened to you last night?” M.J. pushed up her black rimmed glasses and brushed her brown curly hair away from her face. 

“Sorry! I kind of got…carried away,” Liberty ran her fingers through her long, black hair and sighed deeply. 

“Oh. What was their name? Were they cute?” M.J. had a habit of trying to make light of situations that Liberty hated being in. She tried to do anything possible that made Liberty happy. 

“You and I both know that I don’t remember anything.”

M.J. tried to hold in her laughter but it all spilled out like an overflowing toilet. Liberty rolled her eyes and sat down on the couch.

“How’s your dad?” M.J. asked. 

“Good. He’s just disappointed in my behaviour. But what else is new.”

“Lib, you know he just wants the best for you.” 

“I know, but I can’t change. I am who I am. I’m just not ready to get back into another relationship or to actually start my life.”  Liberty got up, walked to the kitchen and grabbed a loaf of bread. She shuffled to the cupboard to grab the jar of chunky peanut butter. Then, she leaned down to the right to open the cutlery drawer to find a butter knife. Liberty’s post- Sunday school routine was like clockwork: M.J. would always freak out as Liberty walked in the door because Liberty failed to make it known where she was. Liberty would say sorry, talk about her dad and make a peanut butter sandwich. This happened every Sunday. For the last 2 years. 

2 years can really change a person. 

2

Liberty had a very different life than the one that she was currently living. Tragedy has an awful tendency to change people. It can sneak up on you at the most inconvenient of times and deter every plan you’ve ever made. 

Two years ago, her mom was still alive. Two years ago, she was so in love. Two years ago, things were so much better. On the outside, two years doesn’t seem like a sufficient amount of time. When you break it down, it can be made out to seem like a lifetime: Two years. Twenty-four months. One hundred and four weeks. Seven hundred and thirty days. Seventeen thousand five hundred and twenty hours. One million fifty-one thousand and two hundred minutes. Sixty-three million seventy-two thousand seconds. The further you go, the longer it seems, and the more distance Liberty felt between her current self and her former self. 

Liberty was dating a boy named Patrick two years ago. They were high school sweethearts. It was something straight out of a romance novel. Everyone they knew thought that it would be the beginning of a fairy tale. Everything seemed too good to be true. 

They met in line at the school cafeteria when they were in tenth grade. It was lunchtime and they were both making their way through the line gathering various items onto their trays. As Liberty approached the lunch lady to pay for her meal, she opened her wallet and couldn’t find her any of her money. She had just gotten paid from babysitting for her neighbours so she knew that she had at least a twenty dollar bill, but for some reason she couldn’t find it. She felt her anxiety level intensifying; she hated not being prepared. This was especially so when she was in line about to pay for something. She was always fearful of taking too long and the other customers that were waiting in line behind her would start to yell at her slow moving pace. Patrick was standing behind her just as her pulse started to race. He tapped on her shoulder to get her attention.

“Excuse me…” he politely said.

“I’m going as fast as I can, believe me!” She screamed at him. Liberty was never one to raise her voice, especially at a stranger. She immediately regretted her actions.

“Sorry…so sorry.” She continued to dig through her backpack to find any loose change.  The mumbling from the other students in line started to get louder and more irritating. Liberty felt like needles were poking into her skin. 

He giggled and took his tray to stand in front of Liberty. He put his lunch tray down near the lunch lady’s cash register. 

Completely shocked at his audacity, she belted out, “EXCUSE ME?” Again, she regretted it. She hated confrontation. 

Liberty was about to nudge him to get back to behind her in the line when he pulled out a twenty dollar bill and said to the lunch lady, “I’ll pay for her lunch along with mine.” The lunch lady nodded her head and entered the new total into the cash register. She handed Patrick back his change and he put it into his pocket. 

Liberty was so embarrassed and felt hot all over. 

“Thank you,” she said meekly. She picked up her tray and started walking out towards the cafeteria tables, “I’ll see you around. Please allow me to pay you back.”

“There’s no need for that,” Patrick followed behind her. 

Liberty stopped walking and raised her eyebrows.

“Just have lunch with me,” Patrick smiled as they exited the lunch line. Liberty joined him at a vacant table near the vending machine. 

And that’s how it all began. With such a story book beginning, Liberty expected to have a story book ending with Patrick. 

Patrick introduced her to a whole new world. Patrick was born in California and often complained about the brisk New York weather, even during the summer months. He had a life of luxury. As the son of two successful lawyers, he wanted to go to law school in hopes of becoming a criminal justice lawyer just like his parents. His family moved to New York so that his parents could start their own law firm in Manhattan. At only 15, he was already so eloquent and charming. His persona far exceeded his age. Like his parents, he knew what to say to get exactly what he wanted out of any situation. He was tall with wavy brown hair, green eyes, and caramel skin. His eyes were so green that trees would be jealous of their vibrant, earthy colour. It was so easy for her to fall for him. She thought that he was so dreamy. She got lost in him like walking through a forbidden forest. She couldn’t help but keep going even though she couldn’t find the path. She wandered deeper and deeper, never knowing what she would face.  Like Liberty, he was also the product of an interracial marriage. He was one of the few people who understood many of the situations that she was in. He understood not fully belonging to any one group of people and having many different cultural traditions to uphold to. He understood what it was like to be considered different. 

For nearly three years, she fell deeper and deeper into the abyss. She could not and did not want to picture a life without him. She hadn’t had a relationship like the one that she was in with Patrick. Since they started school at Columbia, it wasn’t unusual that they didn’t always have time to spend together. Sometimes they would go days without seeing each other. Liberty admired his dedication to school and would never imagine that his many absences would result into anything more. Their relationship was the type that a person can never recover from when it goes bad. 

It was a rainy Tuesday night. The rain fell especially hard that day. Usually, the sound of the rain was comforting to Liberty, but something told her that something horrible was going to happen. It was like the earth was crying or some creature from the heavens was trying to warn her. She was finishing up a session with a class when her phone began ringing frantically. It was her dad. He never called her unless something was really wrong. And something was really wrong. Liberty answered the phone and her father was barely coherent. He managed to utter out only a few words but those few words were all that she needed to put it all together:

"Your mom….car accident…didn't make it."

Liberty’s mother had been driving from the grocery store and her car was hit by a drunk driver. Her mother hardly ever drove. She would usually walk or bicycle everywhere, but since it was raining she had no choice but to drive. Liberty felt her world begin to shatter. She felt the crumbling foundation beneath her feet and collapsed into her car. She immediately began to remember and regret the last exchange of words she ever had with her mother. 

Her mother had invited her over for tea one afternoon a few days before the accident and said that she had something serious to discuss with her. Once Liberty was in her mother’s company, her mother had told her that she had a bad feeling about Patrick as of recent. One of the most difficult things that a parent would have to do is to be honest with their child regarding their love life. She said that she had suspicions about him and that his behaviour was different these days. Liberty was immediately defensive, of course. Liberty hated when people pried into her life. She especially hated it when it was her parents. Liberty left her mother in a huff and slammed the door on her way out. Now she wishes things went differently that day. Now she wishes that she just thanked her mother for having her best interest in mind. Now she wishes that she told her mother how much she loved her for looking out for her. Now she wishes she just listened instead of leaving. 

Her mother was dead. The one who gave birth to her, the one who took care of her, the one who carried her through all of the hard times – was gone. She was no longer existent on this earth and remained only in her memories. She was not ready for it to become her reality, not that anyone ever is. A child always has to prepare themselves for their parents’ eventual demise, but Liberty never thought that she would have to experience it so soon. 

Liberty completely broke down in her car. No one could hear her because the rain was so heavy and hard. At that moment, she knew that only one person could make this entire situation a bit tolerable. She made her way over to Patrick's apartment. There was nothing else that she could even muster up the strength to do. She needed to see Patrick. 

Liberty knew that he would say some clichéd idiom like he always did, but it always made her seem to feel better. Clichés always serve a sense of assurance, even if it’s a false assurance. Everything sounded better coming out of his mouth. Even though she always knew exactly what he was going to say - she wanted to hear him say it anyways. 

"She's not really gone."

"She'll always be with you."

"You'll see her again."

Patrick was like a living Hallmark card. It must have been his sunny California disposition.  He was always looking on the bright side, even when one doesn’t seem to exist. Liberty thought that he would at the very least be the greatest source of comfort for her at this tragic time. She thought that as long as she had Patrick, then eventually she would be all right and her life would be able to stabilize. Liberty was excellent at multitasking so while she was driving, she continually rang off Patrick's phone to let him know that she was going over to see him. Even though she knew what she was doing was terrible and dangerous, she couldn’t think logically. Each attempted call she made went straight to his voicemail. 

She found it strange that it went straight to voicemail each time. He was always persistent when it came to answering his phone. If he missed a call, he would call right back almost immediately.

His phone only ever went to voicemail when he was in class but she knew that he had a day off that day. 

She thought that her father had perhaps told him the news already. 

She thought that maybe he was trying to cope with the news. 

And that maybe he was trying to figure out the right words to say. 

Maybe, she thought. Just maybe. 

Maybe was always such a sad word. It always described what could have been or how you wanted things to be. But if you have to constantly question things and create various scenarios in your head, then it probably won’t happen the way that you want it to. This was the unfortunate truth in Liberty’s case. 

She finally reached his apartment after feeling like she had driven for hours and hours. The rain can do that. Rain has a tendency to slow time down. It gives you the illusion that you can stretch out 24 hours into 24 days. Time isn’t a real concept when it’s raining. 

She parked her car on the street outside of his apartment and began to fumble with her keys to try to find the ones that he gave her for his apartment in case of emergencies. 

This definitely constituted as an emergency, she thought. 

Before she opened the first door, she buzzed up to him to let him know that she was there. She stood in the pouring rain for almost 10 minutes buzzing up to him. She must have pressed that buzzer about a hundred times. There was no answer. She had the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that something terrible had happened. At that moment, she thought that nothing worse could possibly happen. She was wrong.  

She unlocked the door and stepped into the elevator directly in front of her. 

She pressed the button for level 4. 

It was the longest elevator ride that Liberty was ever in. Typically, she hated enclosed spaces and preferred to take the stairs. But, for some reason there was a little voice that told her that time was of the essence and that she had to take the elevator. Listening to that small voice changed the course of her life forever.

With every floor, the anticipation increased. She could feel the deafening silence that nearly made her ears pop. The scariest thing about silence is that you don’t know what’s coming. You don’t know what could be around the corner and you have no possible way of protecting yourself. All you can do is prepare for the worst. 

Liberty finally reached Patrick's floor. His apartment was the first one you saw as soon as you exited the elevator. She decided to call him one more time to see if her calls were actually going through. It wasn't entirely impossible that her calls simply weren't getting through to him because of the storm, she desperately thought and hoped. She stood outside of his apartment door and dialed his number. She could hear his phone going off from where she stood. He had to be inside. He had to have been getting her calls. Something actually was wrong. 

She unlocked the door slowly, trying not to make that much noise. 

The door creaked silently as she slid in through a crack just big enough for her tiny body. 

His entire apartment was dark. Liberty tried flicking the lights on, but nothing. Not even a spark. She figured that there was a power outage due to the storm. She moved slowly through the dark apartment to ensure that she did not accidentally bump into something or knock something over.  It was like she had been transported into a horror film. The darkness, the rain, the anticipation. Something was coming for her. She wished that she could close her eyes and make it all go away. Her eyes refused to close. 

She heard a faint shuffling to the right of her. She jumped when she hurt the sound. She followed the noise slowly. She saw that the shuffling was coming from Patrick's bedroom. 

She walked closer and closer and the sounds got louder and louder. 

She opened the door and saw Patrick in bed. 

He was on top of a girl. It wasn’t just any girl either. 

This girl also happened to be someone that Liberty dated right before him when she had first come out to her parents. She was able to recognize the moaning anywhere.  Liberty wasn’t able to move. All she could do was stand there horrified. 

Liberty saw him thrusting on top of her and as the girl almost reached her climax, her eyes met Liberty's and she gasped. Patrick, while still on top of the girl, asked, “What’s wrong?! Did I hurt you?" 

The girl shimmied out from under him and grabbed the blanket to cover her naked body while her eyes were still locked on Liberty. Patrick turned around and became pale like Scrooge seeing the Christmas ghosts. All of the colour had left his face.  

Patrick frantically searched for his boxers and put them on. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say to get himself out of the situation. Liberty hung her head low and began sobbing into her hand. 

He walked over to her. He put his hand on her shoulder. She shoved him away. 

Liberty screamed, “Don't you fucking touch me, you asshole!"

Patrick sighed, "Liberty, this isn't about you…"

She scoffed, "Yeah, clearly it isn't about me. You're fucking my ex-girlfriend!"

Patrick whipped his head back and stared at the naked girl in disbelief. "Poppy? Is that true?"

Poppy turned as red as her namesake flower. She was the first girl that Liberty dated since coming out. Liberty met Poppy at a party that M.J.’s older cousin threw when they were in their freshmen year. Poppy was never specific about what sexual orientation she identified with, but that never bothered Liberty. They dated casually but eventually decided that they were better off as friends. Liberty still had a soft spot for Poppy; she was always a sucker for a freckled face and long red hair. She always wondered why she had an unhealthy obsession with The Little Mermaid growing up, when she met Poppy – it all made a lot more sense. Liberty always thought that her relationship with Poppy had ended on good terms, but obviously they were not good enough. Poppy wrapped the covers into a makeshift dress and slowly approached Liberty. 

"Libby, you have to know that I didn't even know you were dating Patrick." Poppy said while trying to maintain a calm atmosphere. The Liberty that Poppy used to know was always a bit of a wildcard. It was like walking through a minefield; you can set off a fatal chain reaction with one misstep. 

“Don’t you dare call me that.” 

Liberty walked passed them to Patrick's night table and grabbed the frame that was conveniently turned around to hide the picture it contained. 

"You really didn't know, Poppy? Do I look fucking stupid to you?” She showed her the picture in the frame. The glass of the frame touched the tip of Poppy’s nose. 

“My fucking face was right beside you! Don't try to tell me that you didn't know, Poppy!" She threw down the frame onto the floor. It shattered. "Did you guys just cover my face whenever you guys fucked in here? Don't treat me like I'm an idiot." Liberty took a deep breath and collected herself. She had to keep reminding herself to breathe. She asked the question she dreaded to know the answer to. But she had to know.

"How long as this been going on?"

Both Patrick and Poppy looked at each other with hesitation. Neither of them wanted to admit the reality. Poppy couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"For about 6 mon…" 

"Poppy!" 

Patrick interrupted Poppy as she was lifting the veil that covered the awful truth. She glared at Patrick with disgust. There was no use for them to continue concealing the truth.  It was over. The allure of an affair is the element of secrecy. Once the secret gets out, the thrill is gone. 

Liberty glared at Poppy, “This has been going on for 6 months, Poppy?" 

Poppy nodded her head with shame. 

“How did you guys even meet?” Liberty screamed. “Actually, I don’t care. You’re both disgusting. You’re sick people.”

Liberty slapped Patrick across his face. The outline of her hand marked his face red and stung him. The proverbial slap heard around the world echoed through the living room. Patrick’s eyes brimmed with tears as he touched his throbbing cheek. 

Liberty took a step back and needed to breathe again. This behaviour was so unlike her. She wasn’t a violent person who had violent outbursts. She stepped on some of the broken glass and looked under her foot to make sure none of it went through her shoe. She looked at the picture of herself that was underneath the shards of glass. The picture was taken on her 16th birthday. It was the first birthday that she was with Patrick. She had braids in her hair and a multi-coloured party hat on top of her head. Patrick had taken the picture right after she blew out her candles. He had thrown her a retro-style birthday party like the kind of birthday party you would have when you were a kid. The happiness that was in her eyes seared deep in her soul. That was supposed to be the best time of Liberty’s life. She had just started school at Columbia and was so in love. Her life was just about to start and then it just all came collapsing down in a millisecond. 

"Do you want to know why I came here, Patrick? My mom died today. She got into a really bad car accident. She didn't even make it to the operating room. She died on the way to the hospital. I came here thinking that you would make me feel better about the fact that my life will never be the same. And then I come up here to see you fucking another girl. And it wasn't just some other girl. It was my ex. If that isn't some kind of fucked up twist of fate then I don't know what is. But I'm done here. I'm done." 

She walked out of the apartment and slammed the door shut. Her mother was right all along. Instead of listening to what she had to say, she just left and now she was never going to see her mother again. She took Patrick’s side and he turned out to be everything Liberty always feared. She could feel her heart beating throughout her entire body. Like her heart was going to explode. She was never the same again.  She didn’t want to let herself feel anything anymore. She buried her emotions deep inside of her. She refused to let herself feel like the victim. 

Once Liberty got onto the street, the rain had finally subsided. A thick fog blanketed the street. She was barely able to see past the end of her nose. She didn’t know it at the time, but it was an appropriate metaphor for what the next two years held for her. Her visibility was impaired, and she didn’t know where she was going. 

After ending things with Patrick, people often told her how lucky she was that she found out before things became any more serious. They told her that she had the chance to start over. At the same time, they told her to take time to grieve about her mother’s passing. Liberty felt both extremes of losing a loved one simultaneously. Not many are as unlucky as her. 

3

Liberty still found herself struggling to numb the pain of her mother’s death and Patrick’s infidelity. She found comfort in frequent partying to try to alleviate the gnawing agony that was rooted deep inside. All she needed was a temporary solution to a permanent scar; a band aid on a bullet wound. She wasn’t interested in trying to accept the changes in her life. Not yet, anyway. 

It was a Sunday night tradition that Liberty and M.J. went out to a club. Liberty bought fake IDs for them a month after her mother died. It wasn’t as hard to find someone to make them as Liberty initially thought. It was the most prominent side business for any college student who wants to make a few extra dollars and has an aptitude for Photoshop. M.J. was hesitant to partake in that kind of illegal activity, but she wanted to do anything she could to help Liberty through her extremely difficult time. When someone you love goes through a difficult time, you feel helpless when you are unable to offer any kind of meaningful solace. 

They took turns being the sober one for the night to make sure that they were able to drive home unharmed. Most nights, M.J. was the sober one but tonight was Liberty’s turn. M.J. needed nights like these more than she wanted to admit sometimes. She was trying to get over her ex-boyfriend, Carter, that she was on and off with for nearly 2 years. 

M.J. and Carter met at a freshmen mixer during a game of Suck and Blow. The playing card fell between the small gap in their lips and they embraced in M.J.’s first kiss. Though it was unintentional, it still launched a canon of butterflies in her stomach. There was a spark when their lips touched, like when you rub your feet on the carpet with wool socks then touch a metal doorknob. 

M.J. had never had a boyfriend, or was even that interested in dating before starting college. She was such an awkward person that whenever a boy would try to flirt with her, she wouldn’t know that they were trying to flirt with her until Liberty had to point it out. It was clear that M.J. was the most beautiful girl in their high school. Her natural curly hair and tall stature made all the girls jealous and drove all the boys crazy. But, all that didn’t matter to M.J. When she started dating Carter, he was her first real boyfriend and her first real everything. She was so emotionally invested in their relationship while Carter appeared to be continuously aloof. When they were broken up, she tried to date other people – unsuccessfully. It always felt so wrong to be with other guys. A part of him still lived inside her. She would look for pieces of him in everyone she met. 

The most reoccurring issue was that Carter was afraid to fully commit to M.J., even though deep down he was so in love with her. This, of course, was unbeknownst to M.J. as she interpreted his fear of commitment as lack of affection for her. So tonight, M.J. was the lucky one who was able to drink her troubles away while Liberty had to keep sober to make sure that things were going all right. 

At about 10 p.m., Liberty drove them into midtown to their favourite club that they frequent for their Sunday night ritual. They didn’t even need to wait in line anymore, which allowed them to be on the receiving end of much jealousy from eager club goers. This was a particularly special occasion because M.J. was finally legal – she didn’t need to use a fake ID anymore. M.J. was starting to grow tired of constantly going out, but since she was celebrating her legality it wasn’t such a terrible idea to let loose. Once they got in the club, M.J. headed straight to the dance floor as Liberty went to the bar. The bartender noticed Liberty and asked, “Sober duty, Lib?” 

“Yup,” Liberty responded. She sat down on a high bar stool with her elbow on the counter and rested her chin on her palm. She looked around at all the people who were having fun with their friends, wishing that she was able to join in on it.  

The bartender grabbed an energy drink for her from the refrigerator behind him then he opened it up and placed a straw in it before he gave it to her. 

“Thank you!” Liberty yelled over the blaring music and smiled at the bartender. The bartender was a tall, dark, and handsome man. From the many times that Liberty had the chance to talk to him, she found out that he was trying to work his way through medical school. Liberty always thought that she would end up with someone who was a doctor or lawyer, but life has a funny way of ruining all your plans. 

She took a long sip as she scanned the dance floor to see M.J. 

The immediate effects of the caffeine mixed into her blood stream and she was wide awake. Liberty usually hated energy drinks, except when they were mixed with alcohol, but in some situations they were necessary otherwise she would fall asleep standing up. When she was in still in school, she regularly consumed energy drinks with a side of coffee in order to get through those late night study sessions.  She started thinking about how much she actually liked going to school. She liked the routine of waking up and going somewhere to learn new things. She liked writing notes with different coloured pens and highlighting important facts in textbooks. School was the one thing that she was actually really good at. A surge of regret started to gush into her lungs. She cleared her throat to avoid allowing it to surface. 

She found M.J. dancing to the beat of the music with a big grin on her face. They locked eyes and smiled to each other. Liberty raised her energy drink in an imaginary cheers fashion. 

Liberty was getting tired of the club scene. The drinking, the sweating, the long lines to the bathroom. Something that was considered a fun pastime and opportunity to let loose after a long work week became something of a chore. But there wasn’t an easier way to find people to hook up with and required very little effort on her part. She had considered dating apps, but she wasn’t interested in someone who was trying to pursue a relationship. She wanted to make sure that her hookups knew that they were expendable. It wasn’t the nicest thing to do to people but she didn’t want to think about how mean it actually was. 

Liberty leaned against the bar observing all the people who were drinking their troubles away. She overheard conversations from guys talking about their gym sessions, girls talking about teas that made them lose weight, and groups of people talking about the latest animal video that went viral. Normally, Liberty hated to eavesdrop but since the music was so loud the conversations she overheard were audible enough to hear without her trying to even listen. Hearing those mindless conversations made her think about how she was when she drank. With the thoughts of how embarrassing she had to be, she wished that she wasn’t supposed to be the sober one. She took a seat as she watched the bartender concoct different kinds of drinks when she heard an unfamiliar voice in her ear, “Drinking alone?” She felt the hot breath on her cheek and nearly gagged when she smelt the alcohol on the faceless voice’s breath. 

Here we go again, she thought. It wasn’t uncommon for Liberty to be mauled by drunken men while she was on her sober duty. She was their prime target; she was always standing at the bar alone. While she was drunk, she esteemed being the centre of attention. Being sober changes the experience entirely. 

She then felt a hand on her shoulder. She quickly grabbed the hand and twisted the arm that was attached to it. 

“Touch me again and I’ll break your arm.” 

Because Liberty was out so often, she frequented self-defense classes that were offered at her gym. It was the first time that anything she’s learned was handy in real life. She was impressed with herself that she was in the position to nearly break the stranger’s arm. All she needed to do was twist it a little more and then it would shatter into a million pieces. Then she remembered that this action wasn’t completely necessary and that she should preserve her powers for good, not evil. She looked down at the blonde, tanned guy who looked like he was about to cry and let him go. He shook out his arm, looked at her, took his drink and disappeared into the dimly lit dance floor. She felt bad about hurting a poor, innocent guy – she knew that she was never like this. Her father’s words from earlier resonated with her, and for some reason she just couldn’t figure out how to get her life together. As soon as she turned twenty, she felt she had less time to determine what her next move was going to be. The hardest part about being in your twenties is that expect you to already know what you want to do with your life. Liberty’s plan was to study English and become a teacher. She was always in love with literature and reading. She just loved books. In her mind, books are an author’s way of telling the truth using words that they could never say in real life. After her mom passed away, in between the crying and drinking she would go to the gym. She frequented the gym so often that fellow gym-goers started asking her for advice regarding their workouts. Eventually, one person told her that she should become a trainer and make it a living. And that’s what she decided to do. She dropped out of Columbia and got her personal training certification. It wasn’t like she was going to any of her classes anyway. Her choice of career wasn’t one that her father approved of, but it was something that she loved to do. Not many people are lucky enough to be in love with their job. 

Liberty took another sip of her drink and glanced over to see a guy smiling at her. He was a fairly average looking guy – brown hair, medium build, not too fit. She smiled back. He walked over to her and said, “Sorry about my friend, he’s a real douche sometimes. Especially when he’s drunk.”

“A drunken douche, how original. It’s fine, I’m used to dealing with douches.” Liberty smiled slightly, just enough for him to see it in the dimness of the club. 

“That may be, but he’s like the king of douches.” The mystery guy laughed aloud as he motioned to the bartender to get him another drink. The bartender nodded in understanding as he grabbed a tumbler glass from behind him. He then poured two different liquids into a shaker, scooped ice, and shook the creation for several seconds. After shaking, he poured out the yellow-green contents into the glass. The mystery man turned to face Liberty and held up his glass, “To douches!” He tapped Liberty’s drink and sipped his own. Liberty was intrigued with his gregariousness and wanted to keep talking to him.

“If he’s such a douche then why do you hang out with him?” Liberty asked with a smirk on her face. 

He took another swig of his drink and said, “Because he always picks up the tab.” Both he and Liberty laughed out loud. She hadn’t laughed that much in so long that her stomach hurt like after a day of vigorous sit-ups. He wasn’t really that funny, so she failed to understand why she couldn’t stop laughing. Once they both composed themselves, he finally introduced himself.

“I’m Matt.” He offered his hand out to her. 

“My friends call me Libby.” She grabbed Matt’s open hand with slight resistance but gave into her curiosities. 

“Well, hello Libby.” Matt smiled as they shook hands for much longer than they should have. The handshake was firm but friendly. It was much friendlier than any other normal handshake between strangers. 

She released his hand. “We’re not friends. You can call me Liberty.” Liberty retorted as she pursed her lips in a side grin and twirled her hair around her fingers. She always had to make sure she had her guard up, especially when she was on sober duty. She knew exactly what she was doing so she couldn’t use being drunk as an excuse to bring home a random person. 

Matt had a look of feigned insult and said, “Feisty, I like it.” 

They shook hands again and locked eyes with each other. Liberty was surprised that her remark didn’t scare him off or make him act like a jerk. In her experience, whenever she’d act standoffish with a male, he would always get upset and tell her that she’s acting like a bitch. But it was nothing like that with this guy. He was different. At least he appeared to be. 

“I don’t usually do this,” Matt said with a wide grin from the corner of his mouth.

“Do what? Talk to girls in clubs?”

“No, I do that a lot,” Matt laughed. “I don’t get to have fun like this, like I am with you.” Matt started nervously biting the straw in his drink. 

“Fun?” Liberty questioned what his idea of fun was. “We’re just talking…”

“I know, and yet this is the most fun I’ve had all week. That says something, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes, it does,” Liberty smiled. 

Suddenly remembering where she was and her sober duty, she dropped her gaze and skimmed the dance floor frenziedly for her best friend. She finally found M.J., kissing somebody. At first, Liberty was proud of her best friend’s ability to be her own wing-woman. Until she figured out whom that somebody actually was. That somebody was Carter. Liberty let out a loud sigh; she knew that she would have to deal with the aftermath of it yet again. Matt asked her what was wrong. 

“My best friend is making out with her ex-boyfriend, right over there. The couple who look like they’re attached at the mouth. Like really messed up Siamese twins who clearly should have been separated at birth.” She pointed them out as they were locking lips and walking out of the club. 

“They’re leaving, are you going to stay?” He asked her in hopes that she would say yes. He held his breath hoping that he would be able to continue having a conversation with the girl he met at the bar. He thought that she was interesting and different and he really liked that. She was a breath of fresh air in a cloud of smog. 

“No, she’s going to come home late and pass out so I have to make sure that she doesn’t wake up alone.” She drank her energy drink until the can was empty, put it on the counter, pulled out a 10 dollar bill from her clutch and said to Matt, “Nice to meet you, it was really nice talking to you.” She slid the bill on the counter as the bartender turned around and said goodbye. 

She waved goodbye to the bartender then started making her way to the exit as Matt grabbed her free arm and asked, “Do you come here often?”

Her first instinct when Matt grabbed her arm was to pull away. But she didn’t want him to let go. “I guess you’ll just have to find out,” she said with a wink.  

She smiled and left the club. There was something about Matt that Liberty couldn’t put her finger on. She didn’t know what it was, but all she knew was that meeting him was the best thing that has ever happened to her during sober duty.

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