Page 53 of Malaise
“There’s a tonne of people who have backyard grow rooms, Jasper,” I murmur. “It could be anyone.”
“Nyall’s been using for so long, he only buys the best. Those cowboys that sell out of their garage are pedalling shit, Meg.”
Carver steps forward to intervene, but Jasper continues as he backs away to a safe distance. “He only ever bought from Brett’s old man.”
Jesus, I’m going to be sick. “I still don’t get how this is all connected.” Carver steps forward, arm out to pull me to his side. I lift my hands and back away. “No.”
“Den was on a run to get more green stuff for Nyall that day. They were going to have a sesh when Nyall got home from work.”
“Do you know this for sure?” Carver bites out. “Or are you just speculating, making up shit to try and make yourself the hero?”
Jasper sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “He told me, the other night over a beer. Said he felt responsible and that he needed to get it off his chest.” He snorts, shaking his head. “Fuck, it’s not as though we can talk to the old man about it, right?”
“As if your dad would do a fucking thing about it. Everyone knows you two get away with fucking everything because your old man pulls strings and bails you out to save your poor mother’s fragile heart,” Carver mocks.
“Sounds like jealousy, there, Brett,” Jasper quips in return.
I back away as they continue to bicker, my heart heavy as the mystery around what Den was doing that damn day finally pieces together. Did Carver know? Did his dad know? Den’s choices were his, but I can’t help but feel the bitter sting of resentment as it grows towards Carver. His family had a hand in tearing mine apart. Indirectly or not, it was his blood that stole away mine.
I cover my face with my hands, drawing deep, long breaths to try and get it together. The guys’ voices swirl around me as they sling insults at one another, bickering over who’s got my best interests at heart, and defending their own. I begin to rock, only realising when the car moves behind me that I’m literally bending at the waist as I tip back and forth, trying to block all this anger, this hate, and this pain out. A murmur builds in my chest, gaining momentum until I finally throw my hands down and tip my head back to scream.
Both men pause midfight, Carver’s hand in Jasper’s shirt, Jasper poised to punch Carver in the side.
“Just stop it, please!”
“Meg?” Carver drops Jasper like a hot potato and moves my way.
“Both of you,” I yell. “What good does this do? We all know you hate each other. But seriously, what the fuck is this achieving?”
Carver stops in his tracks, eyes wide. Jasper rubs his face sheepishly and shrugs.
“I appreciate your concern, Jasper, I really do. But so fucking what if Den was buying buds to smoke with your brother that night? He could have been buying a six-pack, or picking up KFC to take around with him—none of it changes the fact he was on that road that day, and that either he or the bus driver fucked up.”
“I just wanted—”
“It doesn’t matter what you wanted.” I cut Jasper short. “The raw truth of it is that you came here to tell me what you have, not to put my mind at ease, but to implicate Carver’s family in all of this. Right?”
He stares down at the ground, unable to answer me.
“Right?” I press again.
He can’t even look my way, let alone at me. Fucker.
“Maybe Den was buying off Carver’s dad. Maybe he wasn’t. But even if Carver’s old man was the last face Den saw, it doesn’t matter. He wasn’t the one riding the bike; he didn’t force Den to collide with that bus. None of it matters. Yeah, I’m angry, and yeah, I’m looking for somebody to blame, but you know what?”
Carver looks to Jasper, urging him to answer. Jasper takes two steps back, frowning as he mutters, “What, Meg?”
“It was a fucking accident,” I growl, low and throaty. “An accident. Nobody is to blame. And that sucks so much more, because what the hell do I do with all this anger and resentment now?” Tears spill over my cheeks as I clench my fists before me, shaking my head.
Carver moves for me, wrapping me in his warm embrace as I cry at the pointlessness of it all. Den died for nothing: no great cause, no higher purpose. It was just a fucking accident.
“I’m sorry that’s how you feel,” Jasper mutters. He takes two steps back toward his car. “Just don’t look back on this and say I didn’t try to help.”
I bury my face in Carver’s chest, unable to even look at Jasper as he climbs in the driver seat and starts his car. My body shakes with supressed sobs, the effort to hold them in immense.
Carver runs his hand gently up and down my spine. “You handled that well, Meg.”
Did I?Sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. “I’m so tired of crying.”