Peaks is a private organization. The owners of the facility offer one full scholarship of sorts to a family in need each year is how Mr. Calhoun explained it. Jamison and I, by some miracle, met the requirements. My sister’s treatment and all associated costs with staying here are covered one-hundred percent. They are also covering all of her medical care while she’s in treatment here.
It’s more than that, though. Mr. Calhoun also secured a place for me to stay for the duration of her treatment. I have a daily allowance for food and essentials, along with my freedom to find a job and save some money. Alongside my sister they are providing both of us with counseling so we can be stronger together.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think this was possible. This is what my sister has needed for so long, and something I could never afford. Much less be able to remain close for therapy with her.
The building is unique. It’s set up in an octagon shape, and I’m a little overwhelmed by all the wings once I get checked in. Luckily, Jami spots me and comes to me in a rush. The smile on her face washes away my anxiety.
This is all I’ve wanted in life, my sister to be happy.
It’s been so hard to be away from her the last seven days. I’ve literally been counting down the hours at the rental I’m staying in. She needed to properly detox without the pressure or distraction of a visitor. We embrace in a long hug before she takes me by the hand to guide me down to the common area. Part of the rules are not to have family members, visitors, or anyone in the personal rooms. I’m just grateful for the help being available for my sister. Whatever the rules are, I will follow them.
We take a seat at a table with a checker board on it and instantly, my mind goes back.
The lights on the Christmas tree sparkle. We didn’t have a big tree. I didn’t care, though. Jami and I actually have a tree this year. It’s the first one I can remember. At school, all the kids talk about their trees and the lights. I didn’t say anything because I’ve never had a tree to talk about until now.
Our mom walks in the room with a smile. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world. Her eyes are tired. I wish she would take a nap with us.
Instead, we lay down every afternoon, and she rushes around the house cleaning up. I go to school and Momma stays home with Jami. When I come home, I try to play with my sister as much as I can so Momma can do what she does. She’s always keeping busy. Just as she surprises me by sitting on the floor beside my sister and I to watch the lights, the front door opens.
Immediately, the air changes. I’m on alert. Instinctively, my hand reaches out to hold my sister’s.
He walks in. The glare he gives Momma tells me all I need to know. It’s going to be another one of those nights. The ones where there is yelling and we’re all going to be in trouble for everything. Papa is not a happy man.
Momma jumps up as Jami huddles closer to me. He is home, which means any peace we had is gone until he passes out. Rushing to the kitchen, Momma goes to make his drink.
“Fuckin’ shithole,” he mutters stomping through the small living room of our home down the hall to their bedroom. He’s going to use the bathroom and come back out. I know I need to retreat. Out of sight we are out of mind … mostly.
Standing, I help Jami up, and quickly we scurry to our bedroom. Sitting on the floor with my sister, I pull out her favorite baby doll and pretend to make food. If we stay in here and stay really quiet, maybe he won’t get upset. Maybe tonight will be an okay night.
Usually when our dad comes home, we have dinner, then Momma sets up a bath for Jami and me. After that, we brush our teeth and go to bed. The quieter we stay, and the more out of the way we are, the less upset he will get.
I’ve learned with Papa, if he doesn’t see me, I can’t get in trouble.
The sounds of crashing come through from the other side of the wall. “Fuckin’ servin’ me a weak ass drink. Bring me the bottle, bitch,” Papa roars, and I cover Jami’s ears.
Jami pulls her baby closer, rocking the toy in comfort.
“Get over here, bitch,” our dad commands, and I scoot closer to my sister. “Wanna fuck,” he slurs.
“The girls are up,” she whimpers, “Let me feed them dinner, put them to bed.”
“They come out; they can watch.”
I don’t know what he’s wanting from Momma, but she isn’t comfortable with any of it, that’s for sure. And if Momma ain’t comfortable then I certainly don’t want to watch. I’ll stay in here until Momma calls us for dinner, it’s safer that way. Jami puts her thumb in her mouth as I look around the room to find something for us to do. The worn box sits on the shelf, and I take it down.
Checkers. I can teach Jami to play checkers. Mom can handle Dad. I’ll take care of my sister.
I was six, and my sister was four. I taught her to play checkers just so she would stay in our room. The moans from my mother came before we could finish the game, since she gave into our dad that night and every other night this became a common occurrence.
The man drank proudly. Mom wanted to name me Jennifer; she got Jennissey, so she can call me Jenni while he calls me Hennessy after his favorite cognac. My sister is Jami to my mom, and Jameson to my dad after his favorite whiskey.
Ridiculous if you ask me, but no one asked me so Jennissey is my name. I think it’s unique. If my dad wasn’t such an asshole, maybe I would feel different about my name. Everything is tainted by him.
Things I learned in my childhood: you want to get drunk—Wild Turkey hits harder and faster. Hennessy is for sipping when he wants to drag things out. Jameson is better for mixing, so when the money runs out and we’re between paydays, the Jameson wins.
Does it serve any purpose now? Nope, because I don’t drink … at all.
Ever.
Jami makes her move. I make mine. “How many times have you let me win at this game?” she asks softly.
“I never let you win,” I lie.
“Jenni, you’re full of shit.”
“Prove it,” I tease her.
She sighs. “Learning stuff here. Like this piece,” she lifts the little black circle, “everything comes full circle.”
I don’t reply because frankly, I don’t know what to say.
“Addiction is a cycle.”
I nod.
“I’m stuck bad, Jenni.”
Again, I nod. She is stuck and I’m clueless to help her.
My heart hurts for my sister. The pain she feels, I know it, but I can’t fix it.
I can’t fix this. It kills me to face the reality that there is nothing more I can do for her than love her while she works this out for herself.
“There’s no jumping spaces in this shit,” she tells me as she jumps my piece on the game board.
“No, Jami, there isn’t. But maybe, that’s what we need. Gotta stop jumping over the shit that hurts and face life as it comes,” I tell her, hopping over two of her chips.
“Learning the steps to win in the game of life. That’s what my aid told me about this place. She said here you learn to cope, not chase the escape.”
Tears fill my eyes.
Finally, something is sinking in. I’ve been on this road with her for so long. Nothing I have said gets through to her. Even though it hurts to know a stranger is fixing her in a way I can’t, I’m thankful she’s waking up.
“I’m messed up, Jenni. He messed me up, and I am ashamed to tell you.” She sighs. “But, I think you need to know. And mostly I need to tell you because I don’t want us to have secrets between us anymore.”
I let the tears fall. There is no reason to hold back. I know who he is. I know what he did, and I know my sister has finally hit rock bottom for her to want to talk about it.
“Nothing you say or do changes the love I have for you, Jami. You’re my sister, but more than that, you’re my best friend. You know my every secret, my every weakness. I trust you with my life, but also my heart. Whatever you want to share, I’m here to listen. Whatever you aren’t r
eady to give to me, then hold on for now, but just know whatever your burden to bear, you don’t carry it alone. I’m here for you.”
“Jenni, I sold my soul to the drugs. You name it, I’ve done it. There are so many lies I’ve told you. So many things I’ve hidden from you. I don’t want to hold on to anything anymore. I want to release it all and finally be free.”
I swallow hard. Well, it hurts, but at least she’s giving me the truth. “The charges in Colorado, the solicitation. Were they a mistake?”
She drops her head. After a beat, she looks up with tears falling down her face. “No. If selling my body got me the next dose, I did what I needed to. I know it’s gonna sound lame, but I live from one high to the next because in the sober moments, it all haunts me.”
I reach over the table and she puts her hand in mine. “Don’t give it power, Jami. What’s done is done. Don’t be ashamed, be proud you’re focused on what’s to come and not what’s behind you.”
She smiles softly. It doesn’t fill her face, but any smile on my sister is better than no smile.
“I’m damaged, Jenni,” she whispers.
I nod because I don’t know what to say. She’s damaged because I couldn’t protect her.
Truthfully, I didn’t know how to protect her. To this day, I still don’t know why he fixated on her. I just know he always hit her harder and longer. I failed her time and again because I couldn’t save her from his wrath.
“You’re the strongest person I know, Jami. When we were kids and I would get scared of the dark, you would hold my hand.” I let the tears fall. “You’ve always been the one to hold my hand.”
She locks her eyes to mine. “The monsters weren’t in the dark,” we whisper in unison.
“The monsters are in my head now, Jenni,” she tells me with clarity. “Detoxing was hard. I’ve been sick for days. Now, though, now I can be honest with myself and with you. The monsters are inside of me. They call to me. The only way to shut them up was to drown them out. It’s time to face them though. It’s time to stop them for good.”
I know this to be true because I couldn’t visit her, but the updates I was given shed light on just how physically painful detoxing can be.
“Being on the other side of the withdrawal, Jenni, the monsters are inside me.”
“Talk to me, Jami. Let me be the one to hold your hand in the dark.”
She nods. “It’s a crawling just under my skin. An itch of sorts I can’t scratch. The more I think about it, the more I crave the drugs. Anything. It’s not even about meth, heroin, cocaine. I’ll take a blunt right now if you offered it to me.”
Maybe coming here was a bad idea, I think for a moment. I know they are making exceptions for Jami. In the handbook Mr. Calhoun gave me, visitors aren’t generally permitted in the first twenty-two days to ensure the habits and structure of each patient before bringing in outside influence. However, she’s a week in and I’m here. I know each patient is taken on a case by case situation and evaluated for their individual needs. That’s what we were told as to why I could come visit now and break the general code. Jami’s needs allow me to be here now instead of weeks later.
“Jami, you’re stronger than the drugs.”
“I’m trying to be, Jenni, but I won’t lie. This is hard. When I close my eyes, I still smell the whiskey on his breath. I still hear the words whispered in the dark. The things I want to chase away, Jenni, I can’t chase them away anymore.”
And there is the root of our issue … the scars on our souls. The secrets never shared, the stories never to be told, all marking my sister in a way she couldn’t escape.
“I remember the first time. You left for boot camp. I waited and waited, longing to hear from you. The distance between us felt like I was drifting in space all alone. Danaille called wanting to go to a party. She didn’t want to go alone, so I tagged along. There were all these older guys. I wanted to fit in, so when they passed the bong, I took the hit. Danaille didn’t. She begged me to leave, but I wouldn’t. You called, and I pulled myself together. We left together because Danaille is that kind of friend; she wouldn’t leave me all alone even when I deserved it.”
Guilt washes over me once again. “I never should have left you.”
She gives my hand a squeeze. “Jenni, you joining the Navy was the best thing for us. If you hadn’t left and given me a chance to leave, Jenni, I’m ashamed to say it, but I would be dead. Yes, I moved away and still found drugs, but if I still had to live there with him…” She doesn’t finish her sentence but her body trembles at the thoughts.
Danaille still calls to check on my sister. I never knew about that first party. I only knew as time passed my sister spoke less and less about spending time with her childhood friend. I should have asked questions.
I should have done so much more.
Then again, I feel like I should have done a lot of things differently now.
Even sitting here right now, I still feel like I’m missing something. In time, I’m sure it will all reveal itself.
Hindsight is clear, so the saying goes. It is not wrong.
9
Rhett
Two Weeks Later
Even if the words fall on deaf ears, I want you to know, I’m sorry.
Group therapy is my least favorite activity here. I’ve always been a private guy. I never even talk to my family about my emotions. I bottle it all up and that’s part of my problem.
One of my biggest takeaways from being here is stop the blaming. My emotions, my mood, they are within my control. I can choose to let other people impact my emotions by giving into the reactions or I can focus on keeping myself steady.
Alas, I know I have a lot to face back home, and if going in front of strangers can help me talk about the Hell of being an addict, then I’ll do it. Because I owe my family back home a new me. The version of me where I am honest about what I feel and what I think.
I took for granted the life I had. Since being here, I made a vow to be a different man when I get back to Haywood’s Landing. Part of that starts by getting over these hurdles.
Everyone does the usual introduction. The one where we admit we have a problem. For too long, I told myself I had my shit under control and all the while I sunk deeper and deeper into the addiction. I notice the empty seat in group. I don’t give much thought to it since people rotate in and out as they progress in therapy.
“When did you realize you were locked into this life?” Roman, another addict asks.
I run my right hand over my left arm as the craving creeps in. Just thinking about getting high does this to me. “That first hit,” I tell the group honestly.
“I can’t believe that shit,” Cecilia mutters. “After one dose you can walk away.”
Her judgment typically would piss me off, but I’m wiser now. This is a statement and a belief many people have. I can’t take their opinion away, but I can accept that it is their own. I know my truth in all of it’s ugly glory.
“I grew up a third generation Hellion.” I explain not letting her deter me. “My life was easy. Never had to do drugs, not the hard shit. Smoked weed, but the heavy shit, nope. Had a girl,” I sigh, “had a girl I fuckin’ loved. She had a sister. Girl left me to chase a dream and asked me to look out for her sister. One night, I was doing just that—”
The door opens, drawing all our attention as Jamison Rivera enters the room with her eyes locked on my face. Fuck me. I have come a long way being here. I have faced where shit went wrong for me and stopped blaming her, but seeing her it leaves a heavy feeling in my stomach.
“The knight in shining armor, Rhett Oleander, took the needle from me,” she states not missing a beat as she makes her way to the empty chair, “and jabbed it in his own arm. That could have been the hit to send me over the edge and end my pain. Instead, my heart kept beating, and you went down this dark and ugly road with me.”
I don’t move. Words don’t come to me. I never expected this. I don’t blame Jami anymor
e.
She settles in never breaking eye contact with me. “I’m sorry, Rhett. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to Tommy. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry I was even there that night. I didn’t know what I was doing. I just wanted to escape.”
“Needle to my vein,” I whisper, “should’ve been a bullet to my brain.”
She nods as tears fill her eyes.
“Can’t outrun the shadows,” she whispers back.
“No, we can’t. But we can vow to hold onto the light, so we don’t slip back down into the dark. Life is a gift we shouldn’t waste.”
She nods. “You gave me that gift that night. That dose would have killed me. You saved me, Rhett.”
What can I say? She thinks I gave her a gift, while I look back on that night as the beginning of my end. I don’t think I gave her a gift. I think I sentenced us both to a bitter burn that neither of us have been able to shake.
“To love an addict is a special Hell,” Jami continues. “I remember the man you were destined to be.”
“Not that man anymore.”
The tears streak down her cheeks in earnest. “That’s on me.”
The guilt in her eyes haunts me. I shake my head. “Made my choices. Blamed a lot of people, including you, Jamison,” I tell her honestly. “This shit ain’t on anyone but me.”
My mind goes back, and I share my memory with the group.
The drugs hit my veins as Jami yanks the needle from my arm. Every beat of my heart sounds louder than the last. The room around me begins to spin, slowly at first. With every inhale of air I take, things become more distorted. My hands tingle, my mouth goes dry.
This euphoria fills me. No longer do I feel pain. No longer do I miss Jenni. Nothing matters.
Time ticks by, my heart continues to race. I swear I could run a marathon and actually win. The people around me move, but I can’t focus.
Breathe for It: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride On Book 4) Page 7
