Page 100 of Between Regrets and Promises

“Things were great until they weren’t. She was spiraling before she overdosed, but I was only twenty and thought she was stressing out about school. I was in a frat, partying andrebelling against everything my dad stood for. Without even telling people, they knew who I was because of my last name. At the time, it felt like I had a point to prove, and it wasn’t always a good one. I enjoyed getting on my father’s nerves. When he’d call, I wouldn’t answer, and after a dozen missed calls, he’d show up to check on me. Wanted to make sure his money was going to good use. Then he’d talk to my professors and the dean and send in a donation check to make sure I stayed on the straight and narrow. He barged into my life every damn chance he could, which made me hate him more. I wanted to live my life without him hovering, and at that age, I did whatever it took to piss him off.”

I nod, understanding his reasoning although his college experience was different from mine. Though if I had gone to a college closer to home, I can’t say my father wouldn’t have forced his way into my business either.

“I met Emma in English class my first semester and we were inseparable. She was a wild girl, which is what I liked most about her. I knew it’d drive my dad crazy, so in my head, she was perfect. At the beginning of our sophomore year, she took pills to stay awake longer. That evolved into opioids. She claimed she was only taking them for back pain from sitting because she was studying so much. That should’ve been a red flag right there because she didn’t study nearly as much as she led on. We were together all the time when I wasn’t in class or doing my own thing. I noticed how high she was getting from them and told her she needed to stop, but she reassured me it was to get through midterms and then again for finals. She seemed to be in control of her habit, so I stopped pressing the issue, and we stopped fighting.

“A few times, she’d call me in tears, saying she was going to kill herself. I’d rush over and calm her down, stay with her all night until her high wore off. It was happening every coupleof weeks, and after a while, I stopped believing her wolf cries and didn’t rush over. Each time I’d get there, she’d be rambling about something else, but after a while, I stopped believing she’d take her own life. I didn’t know why she would in the first place. I hadn’t suspected she was depressed, but afterward, I found out there was a lot I hadn’t known about her.

“I begged her to stop taking them, to get help, told her I’d take her to narcotics anonymous—anything. I even found her dealer and threatened him with bodily harm if he didn’t stop selling to her. It only pissed her off and then found another dealer. I threatened to go to her parents, and she mentioned again how she’d kill herself if I did. I was juggling so much with school, my father, and the stress from trying to keep up. Whatever love Emma and I had for each other was dissolving. She wasn’t the girl I had fallen for, and I didn’t know how to help her.

“Finally, I reached out to her sister and begged her to help me help her. She was able to get through to her in a way I hadn’t, and we’d grown closer while trying to help Emma.”

“So she got clean for a while?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around everything he’s said.

“No, she got better at disguising it. I tried to be there for her, but everything had put a strain on our relationship. It was the end of our sophomore year when my frat house was having their last party before the summer. She didn’t want to go, but I had to, and after a few hours, I was drunk. The year had taken a toll on me, and I went for the beer and alcohol hard. By the time I checked my phone that night, I had six missed calls from her, three missed calls from her sister, eight text messages, and three voicemails.”

“Jesus. What happened?” I curl my feet under my body, inching closer to him.

“She texted that she was done, couldn’t go on living like this, and wanted to put both of us out of our misery. Claimed I didn’t love her anymore so what was the point of living. It was stuff she had said before when she was doped up, so my first reaction was that she was losing her shit again. Her sister left me a voice message to go check on her since she wasn’t in town. I reassured her that I would, but then a fight broke out at the party. I got distracted for half an hour trying to break them up and clean up their mess.

“By the time I listened to Emma’s earlier voice message, it was an hour later, and it didn’t sound like the usual messages she left me when she had been high like before. I texted her that I was coming over, but she never texted back. I couldn’t drive for shit, so I stole someone’s bicycle and raced over there as fast as I could. I wasn’t sure if she was sleeping it off, but my gut told me something was wrong.”

I blink away the tears in my eyes. I’ve never seen Mason like this before. His shoulders slumped, his eyes sad, and his hands in fists.

Swallowing hard, I brace myself for what’s coming next.

“I found her in her room, unconscious and unresponsive. Her eyes were half open, her body stiff. I knew CPR, so I started compressions right away and tried to revive her, but I knew I was too late. As soon as I saw an empty baggie on the nightstand, I knew she’d taken a crap ton of pills.” Mason keeps his head and eyes lowered, and I can tell how painful this is for him to repeat.

“You don’t have to continue, Mason…” I tell him softly.

He finally meets my gaze. “I want to share her story with you. I’ve kept it inside for so long.”

“Okay.” I nod.

“I called 911, but it didn’t matter because she had stopped breathing long before I arrived. They pronounced her dead atfour fifteen in the morning, and once the autopsy results came in, we learned she had overdosed on so many pills, her heart stopped within twenty minutes. She had taken more than her usual opioids too. When she left the voice messages on my phone, she’d already swallowed them all. She’d called her sister to tell her she loved her, but it was the letter they found a week later that destroyed me for good.”

I can’t even begin to imagine the pain he went through, so I don’t say anything as he takes a break.

“She blamed me, said I didn’t want her anymore, believed I had fallen out of love with her and was seeing someone else. She popped pills to relieve the pain I was causing her when they were what caused the wedge between us in the first place. I begged her…I fuckingbeggedher to stop.”

Mason’s face falls in his hands as his voice strains, and I can no longer keep my distance. I wrap my arm over his hunched back and lean my head on his shoulder, trying to offer comfort anyway I can.

“She was an addict,” I tell him softly. “You tried, Mason.” I squeeze his arm.

He shakes his head and slowly sits up. “Not hard enough. Her sister took her to NA, called her every single day to check on her, and thought she was fighting the addiction. I believed she was too or, rather, wanted to believe she was. But she was sneaking around behind our backs, and I became desensitized to her cries for help. It was my fault. No matter what anyone says, I will always blame myself for not staying home that night, for not checking my phone sooner, or at least for not forcing her to join me. I should’ve protected her from herself, kept her within reach, but instead, I made her fight alone.”

I nod, knowing I can’t argue with his logic although I don’t believe he could’ve done much for her at that point. He was onlytwenty, and that’s a lot of stress and responsibility for anyone to deal with, nevertheless a college kid.

“I know there’s nothing I can say that will change what happened or how you feel, but I appreciate you sharing your past with me. I hate how this haunts you, and you’re forced to live with the pain of losing someone you loved. I’m sorry you feel guilty and blame yourself. I’m so, so sorry, Mason.” It’s all I can offer him at this point, and it doesn’t feel like enough.

Vulnerability coats his voice. I notice how his body shakes as he talks, and how distraught he still is five years later.

“I was a fucking mess, Soph. The aftermath of her death changed everything for me.” He locks his eyes with mine when we both sit upright on the couch, only inches apart. “Destroyed everything in my path. I nearly flunked out the following year and wanted to take my own damn life. The pain, it was unbearable. If it weren’t for Brandon, Hunter, and Liam, I’m quite certain I wouldn’t be here right now.”

His words hit me hard in the chest. “What happened?”

“Emma’s family threatened to sue me. They claimed I drove her to popping pills and then did nothing about it. Wanted to use Emma’s suicide note in court to prove I was the reason. Her sister knew the whole truth, though, and tried to get them to stop, but with their own grief, they wanted justice and for me to pay. Of course, my dad stepped in as the DA and paid an assload of money as “compensation.” My dad didn’t do it for my sake, though. Nothing ever is. It was all to keep my name out of the news and his name out of any bad press. He’s held it over my head ever since.”

“Oh God,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “And then Weston…”

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