Meet Me at Infinity ➵ Ashton Irwin

[18] Bill Withers

[Ashton]

“Lean on me when you’re not strong. I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on.” – Bill Withers.

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I wake up from a sudden burst of noise from my phone. The screeching ring tone claws through the thick silence amongst Michael’s snores, causing him to stir as I sit up and wildly flail around while fumbling on the bedside table for my phone. The bright screen causes me to squint as my fingers pass over the screen, but in my half-awake state my clumsy hands knock the phone from the table and it tumbles to the floor with a heart-stopping crack.

I groan, rolling out of bed and grabbing for my now shattered phone as the sheets tug at my torso and hold me back. I tumble out of the sheet’s grip and land hard on the floor, cursing as I finally manage to answer the phone. As the call connects I hear Michael mumbling something along the lines of shut the fucking phone up, Ash.

‘Okay, who the hell is this? I mean, it’s 2 in the –’

I hear a gurgling noise on the other end. ‘Mnn hiya, Asshy!’

My eyebrows sink at the familiar voice. ‘Ellie?’ I ask in confusion. I note giggling on the other end. ‘Are you…drunk?’

‘Nope,’ she says, popping her p.  She giggles again, and my frown deepens. ‘I thfink I’m a lil tipseeeee!’

I shake my head, trying to clear the fogginess of sleep from my brain as I add up the dots of the situation. Ellie wouldn’t be like this unless something had happened. An unpleasant feeling spreads through me as worry builds in my gut. ‘Ellie, where are you?’

She giggles again. ‘I dunno. Somewhere cool. It’s very dark, Ashy. I’m all alooone. You should come too!’

Panic starts to replace the concern, and I get up and begin tugging on a shirt. Michael seems to have gone back to sleep. ‘Ellie, this is important. I need to know where you are.’

‘Oh, stop bein’ a party-poopa,’ she slurs. ‘Imfine.’

I sigh, frustrated. I wrestle on some random pants form the floor, tugging an agitated hand through my hair. ‘Ellie,’ I say, warning in my voice. ‘Tell me where you are, now. Can you see a street sign?’

The line crackles, sounding like the phone has been dropped. I wait, my patience wearing thin as an overwhelming wave of fear rolls through me. Finally I hear Ellie’s drunk voice on the line. ‘Ooh! I see a sign, I thsink. Um…like, Heritage Street? (not a real street but lol fuck it) or someshing? Are you coming to get me, Ashy?’

I roll my eyes. It was weird hearing Ellie so intoxicated – usually I would have most likely found it entertaining, but when I was worried about her wandering around LA at 2 in the morning, her bubbly giggles and unhelpful slurs weren’t exactly appreciated.

‘Yes, I’m coming to get you,’ I murmur as I grab my keys from the bedside table and move into the hallway. It’s completely silent, the shadows of the house long and elongated in the full moon. Quicksilver creeps into the blackness, and the world is lit up in black-and-white. ‘And since when did you call me “Ashy”?’

Ellie makes an unpleasant snorting sound on the other end, which I think is an attempt at a laugh while trying to keep all the alcohol down. ‘Since just now,’ she gurgles. ‘Huh-hm, you’re coming to get me? You’ll have to catch me first!’

I nearly trip over a chair and make an irritated growling noise, roughly pushing it out of the way and stumbling upright. I open the door and close it as quietly as I can behind me, trying to not wake the others. Ellie is really annoying when she’s drunk.