The Forever of Ella and Micha

it’s all about pushing through my dark thoughts and not giving up.
    About thirty minutes later, I push my way back into the light and storm out of the house, marching straight for the garage. Ethan’s truck is in the driveway and there are footprints leading to the garage.
    I shove open the door and step inside. Ethan and Micha are sitting on the hood, with their boots propped up on the front bumper and beers in their hands. Lila is talking on her phone in the corner with her finger pressed to her ear as she attempts to block out their chatter.
    Micha’s eyes connect with mine and the rawness in his face almost shies me away. “Hey, where’d you go?” He stumbles off the hood and, with his long legs, strides toward me.
    He’s wearing a gray thermal shirt with a tiny hole in the hem and his black jeans are secured around his hips with a studded belt. His hair’s a mess, his eyes lost, and the smile on his face means trouble is about to start.
    His hand seeks my waist, but I edge back. “We need to talk.”
    Ethan glances at me with his black hair in his eyes and his face carries a warning. “Ella, just let it be.”
    “You don’t know what I’m going to say,” I tell him. “So stay out of it.”
    “Yeah, but you’ve got that tone like you’re about to bring up something personal and he can’t deal with personal right now.” He shoves the sleeves of his green shirt up and lies back on the hood with his hands behind his head.
    Micha blinks confusedly at me. “Wait, what’s up?”
    Ethan’s made me nervous so I back down and head for the cooler. “It’s nothing. I can’t even remember what I was going to say.”
    He grabs my elbow and reels me into his chest. “Let’s go do something really, really fun.”
    I try to squirm away. “I don’t want to.”
    His forehead furrows as he scratches the back of his neck. “Why are you acting funny?”
    “I’m not.” I bend my arm out of his grip. “I just don’t like that you’re drunk.”
    “Why? I’ve been drunk plenty of times.”
    “I know and that’s the problem.” I bite down on my tongue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
    His eyes burn with rage. “You get drunk just as much as I do.”
    I shake my head. “That’s not true.”
    “It’s completely true,” he snaps and the loudness of his voice causes me to jump. “You drink as much as I do, whether it’s for fun or because you’re trying to bury something. It’s what we’ve all been doing since we were fourteen.”
    “Hey, don’t bring me into this,” Ethan argues, climbing off the hood. “I cleaned up my shit.”
    “No, you didn’t.” Micha trips over the laces of his boots and slams into one of the shelves, knocking tools and car parts to the ground. Lila’s eyes bulge as she hangs up her phone. “You still drink when you feel like shutting down—all of us do.”
    A silent moment builds around us as our breath fogs out and we take in the realization that he’s right. We all started drinking around the age of fourteen. It began as curiosity, but the older we got, the more we used it as an escape from the reality of our lives.
    “Well, I’m done,” I finally say, surrendering up my hands as I back toward the door.
    “I’m done with you too!” he yells, red faced. “I’m sick of your fucking mind games and problems. I’m sick of it and I want out.”
    My hands fall lifelessly to my side. “I meant I was done with drinking, but it’s nice to know where you stand.”
    “Ella, he didn’t mean that. He’s just drunk, so stop acting crazy and get over it,” Ethan interrupts, shaking his head at Micha. “You better get your shit together right now, man.”
    Micha glares at Ethan. “Stay out of this.” He turns back to me, but I’m already out the door.
    He doesn’t follow me as I run down the street. The wind blows in my hair and stings at my cheeks as I try to flee from the hurt and pain, but anxiety nips at my heels.
    Micha has never gotten that mad at me. Ever. It’s like a knife to the heart and I don’t know how to pull it out. It hurts everywhere.
    When I reach the corner, I slow down and try to regain control of my thoughts. I take my phone out of my pocket and dial Anna’s number.
    She answers after four rings and a piano plays in the background. “Hello.”
    “Hi, Anna, this is Ella.” I feel bad for calling her when it’s obvious she’s with her family.
    After a few seconds I hear a door close and the noise quiets.