by Holly Hood
“Alright. Alcohol. How much do you think you consume in a day?” His pen scratched against his tablet at a high rate of speed.
“Whatever there is to consume.” She sighed. “Whatever I want.”
“Elle how long have you been drinking?”
Elle sifted around her muddled memory. “I don’t know. Maybe it started around fourteen, fourteen or fifteen.”
This wasn’t something she was sure of. It felt like forever, everything felt like forever anymore.
In her early teen years she began drinking. She liked the escape. She liked how it took all her worries away. How it made her feel invisible to the world.
It made her forget she wasn’t living up to her parent’s expectations—especially her dad’s.
“So maybe six years, possibly seven,” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“Do you remember why you took your first drink?” Dr. Jon waited.
“I don’t remember,” Elle said. But she knew this was a lie. She remembered.
Chapter 4
There were so many problems in the room she sat in. So many problems and she was forced to sit and listen to each and every one of them.
She kept her eyes glued to the dusty blue carpet of the “sharing” room as they called it.
She tried not to listen to what any of them had to say. She only wanted to make it through the meeting so she could crawl back into her temporary bed and fall asleep.
Sleep was all she cared about.
“Elle. It’s your turn.” Dr. Jon fiddled with his drab tie and crossed his long legs. All eyes were on her. She didn’t have to look up to see that, she knew it. When you were about to spill juicy details about your messed up life of course people were going to pay attention. Well, to bad she thought. She wasn’t going to open up. She didn’t want to share any details about her life or why she was there sitting in front of them. She just wanted to sleep.
“Elle.” Once more Dr. Jon’s calming voice was pestering her, stopping her from being stubborn.
It wasn’t as easy to be that way when so many strangers were looking at you. But then she remembered what brought her to rehab and all her insecurities melted away. She didn’t care anymore. She wasn’t self-conscious; she wasn’t anything like she used to be. She didn’t feel she mattered now.
“I’ll pass.” She sat up a bit and brought her eyes to Dr. Jon’s for a couple of tortuous seconds hoping that was enough to get him off of her back.
“Everyone participates in group,” the wishy washy blonde girl said. The one with the ratty red sweater on, that god awful sweater that Elle wanted to ignite into a ball of flames so she never had to look at it again. Who was she to say anything to her?
“Well, I said I pass.” She refused to look at her.
She let forth a breathy moan of annoyance. “Everyone participates in group. Don’t tell me we have another one of these types.”
Dr. Jon cleared his throat and raised a hand. “Jewel, let me do the talking. This is Elle’s first group. You were once nervous about speaking at one time as well.”
Elle sighed. “I’m not nervous.”
“Good. Glad to see this isn’t too uncomfortable for you, how about you give us a little background about you,” Dr. Jon offered, doing his best to coax something at all out of her.
“I said I don’t want to talk. I’ll pass,” Elle said crossing her arms.
“He’s not going to let up.” This time it was the guy from the hallway talking to her. “And if you’re ordered to be here than it doesn’t matter what you want.”
“I didn’t ask you,” Elle snapped. His brilliant blue eyes didn’t even flinch at her words. Or her angry scowl.
“I know you didn’t. But I like giving out helpful information when I see someone making a stupid mistake right in front of me, a very bad mistake.” He leaned forward, resting his arms against his jeans.
“Elle. Why don’t we start with something easy?” Dr. Jon piped in. “Tells us how your feeling.”
She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I feel pissed off. And I want to get out of this miserable, godforsaken, depression filled room and crawl into my bed and go to sleep until I have to do this all over again tomorrow.”
Now all eyes were on her.
“How does that make everyone feel? Anyone?” Dr. Jon asked.
Only one person was brave enough to speak. “I think she’s scared.”
“Why do you think that, Hart?” Dr. Jon asked him. He ran a hair through his dark locks before he answered.
“Aren’t we all when we come here? I know anyone standing at the edge of a cliff on their tiptoes would have some sort of fear going through their body.”
Dr. Jon looked at Elle.
“I think that goes for people who want to get better, people who want help,” she said.
Hart looked her over. “Everyone wants help.”
“No they don’t.” She crossed her arms.
“You’re miserable right now. You think nothing can get better but it does. This place has saved so many people.” He raised an eyebrow, shooting a look in Dr. Jon’s direction. He was getting pretty good at listening when the doctor and his staff lectured him.
“If it works so well why are you here again?” She remembered Dr. Jon’s words in the hallway. “Is there no saving you?”
Hart sat back. She was tough, but little did she know he was tougher. “That’s a good question. But I’m not dead so I keep trying to get better.”
Dr. Jon clapped his hands ending the stare down. Elle looked as if she was about to go after Hart and he knew enough about Hart to know that he would keep pushing her buttons if he didn’t end the session.
Elle walked little by little behind the residents for her room. She didn’t want to mingle; she didn’t care to talk to anyone. Although most of them were in the same boat that she was they weren’t going to talk to her if they didn’t have to. Nobody was caring or courteous and she liked it.
She grabbed her pack of cigarettes and headed for the only place they were allowed to smoke. She sat down in one of the patio chairs next to the water fountain and used the designated matches.
As soon as she exhaled out came Hart. She rolled her eyes wishing she didn’t want a cigarette so bad.
“This weather…it’s nothing like where I’m from.” He took the seat at the picnic table which placed him right across from her.
“And I suppose you’re going to tell me where that is.” She brought the cigarette to her lips.
“No, I was going to have you take a guess.”
This made her look at him. He grinned as if he got some sort of enjoyment out of it. His eyes softened until the blue looked even bluer.
“I don’t care where you’re from. I’m only out here to smoke before I go to bed.” She flicked her ash and took hold of her cigarette again while he lit up his own. He stared off, racking his brain for something more to say to break through, something to get her to say even one nice thing to him, something to make her seem human. She was frigid.
“What are you here for?” He pressed.
“Ruining people’s lives, that’s what I’m here for. So if I were you I would stay far away from me because I just might do the same to yours.” Even depressed she still was sarcastic.
This brought a smile to his lips. “I’ve been told I’ve ruined some myself. There’s one thing we have in common.”
“Did you kill your best friend?” This was her go to. The answer that separated her from everyone else in the world, it was the thing that shut them all up.
“Almost.” His eyes darkened and he looked away—bothered. “I barely knew the kid. He was just along for the ride. We met at a party and once all the drugs were gone we wanted more so he hitched a ride.”
Elle’s heart slowed down for the first time in months. Goose bumps rose on her skin. For the first time in a long time she wanted to interact.
“Do you hate yourself?”
Hart shook hi
s head. “I was just kidding, I never almost killed anybody. It’s a line from one of my favorite movies.”
“You’re an asshole.” She knew she hated herself. And she was sure she always would.
“I don’t hate anything. And I don’t think you should either,” he told her.
Chapter 5
Elle stared out the window and listened to her mom go on and on about her hopes and dreams for her recovery. How rehab was a saving grace and not the worst thing that could ever happen to her.
She wished there was no visitation. She wished she didn’t have to look at her brother sitting across from her with his arms crossed staring out the same window she was because he hated to be there with her. At one time they were close.
“Are you getting enough to eat?” her mom asked, taking in her bony features. The idea of food repulsed her since the night of the accident.
Elle’s attention shifted to Hart when he walked into the room. He took a seat at one of the tables. But she noticed there were no visitors for him. She watched him pluck his journal from inside his shirt pocket, it was curled and formed perfectly to fit. He started chewing on his pen cap and busied himself writing.
She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Didn’t he care that he was all alone?
“Honey. Are you alright?” Elle’s mom asked. Elle knew she was worried there was already a distraction for her.
“He’s alone,” she said to her mother. At one time her mother was just as caring as she was, before she messed everything up.
“Maybe his family was unable to make it today. Let’s forget about this resident and talk about your plans.” Her mom tapped the table with her polished nails trying to draw Elle’s attention back.
“What plans would you have in mind, Mother?” She asked. Her finger rounded her ear just in time to catch her hair before it hid her eyes. “The one where you think everything is going to go back to normal once I complete this bullshit?”
Her mother swallowed and toyed with her necklace sighing. Elle was trying to run her off.
“I need something to drink. I’ll be right back.”
She watched her mother walk away. Nick took her seat. He wasn’t going to let her get away with causing their mother even more grief.
“Why don’t you quit being such a bitch?” He was blunt. A real pompous asshole and at one time she appreciated him for it, but not now. “You should be happy someone still gives a shit about you.”
She stared at her nails. “But not you.” Nick was four years older. He had already been to college, tied down a successful job, went on trips, dated beautiful girls and just about everything in between. He was all about business and doing things his way.
“You’re my sister I care about you. But all of this is a big inconvenience for everyone involved, including you. Look where you are now. You’re trapped in rehab with drug addicts who are going nowhere in life. That wasn’t supposed to be you and you know it.”
***
Hart stopped writing; he brought his attention to Elle and the rather dapper young guy at the table. The one that looked like he was scolding her rather than paying her a warm visit, he concentrated on Elle as she shifted uneasy in her seat looking as if she didn’t want to be there.
He checked the clock that hung above the double doors before he got up.
Nick looked up as Hart approached. Before he could offer him a hello or a polite handshake he took the seat next to Elle making himself at home. Nick wasn’t an ounce impressed and this brought his sister to life for a couple seconds.
He was doing her a favor. He was pretty sure she didn’t want to be sitting there while some guy scolded her.
And as awkward as it became once he sat down he didn’t care. The look on her face, the way it changed to relief, made the awkwardness worth it.
“Nice day,” Hart said and grinned. He looked between the two of them.
She wasn’t ready to admit anything was nice.
“Look buddy, I’d love to converse with you, but I’m here to visit with my sister.” Nick arched an eyebrow and gestured for him to take a hike.
“Ah, I see. This is your brother. It all makes sense now.” Hart’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re trying to give her tough love.”
“Excuse me?” Nick asked growing even more irritated, it was written all over his face.
Elle watched them throw around their masculinity.
“Seen it all before, the only thing you’re going to do is push her away and feel like shit when you get home at night.” Hart eyed Nick.
Elle chewed on her fingernail.
He was saying things he never imagined anyone would bother saying. Things he was sure when she cared she probably thought herself. He wished she cared, he didn’t even know her and he wished that.
It was clear that wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t going to be that easy to take away the pain in her eyes from whatever she had been through.
Anyone could see just by looking at her that she didn’t care about getting better.
Her brother pushed away from the table standing up. “Come on, Elle. Visitation is over and by the looks of it you need to get some rest.” He took her by the elbow following the rest of the residents and visitors through the door.
Hart took his time heading out himself. He pocketed his journal and tucked his pencil behind his ear. It wasn’t long before one of the staff was reclaiming the writing utensil.
“Hart, now I know you know better,” the nurse said shaking her head at Hart as he shuffled down the hallway muttering something vulgar under his breath.
Chapter 6
Elle sat rigid in her seat. The room was obnoxiously white with tiny flecks of shadows cascading in different areas of the carpet. The potted plant hanging in the window reminded her of the time when she was little and had to spend the weekends at her grandmother’s. It took her back to the time when she sat on the old wooden swing and stared off into her grandmother’s large front yard counting fireflies as they flew by.
The sound of the doctor’s throat clearing pulled her from her memory.
“This is our third meeting.” His voice was soft, gentle even. Sort of melodic like the way she imagined the ocean just after a night’s rain.
She said nothing. She knew this was his way to draw some sort of response out of her, to get her to speak.
“How are you feeling today, Elle?” He crossed his legs and rested both hands on his knobby knee that protruded through the thin layer of fabric, a tiny bit of his expensive sock showing.
She moved her head a little, her soft pink lips parting as she ran her tongue against her bottom teeth. The sensation felt like razors, everything felt worse than anything she ever imagined anymore.
When she brushed her hair it felt like someone was yanking each individual strand out of her head. When she opened her eyes in the morning and the sunlight hit her, she felt like her eyes were going to roll so far back in her head she would never see them again—and she didn’t care. The only time she didn’t feel anything was when she was drinking. Then she was numb. But the harsh reality coupled with no longer having a bottle of vodka pressed against her chest was making everything real. And she didn’t like the feeling. Not one bit.
He repeated his question. He wasn’t upset that he had to. It came out just as soft and patient as the first time.
She shifted in her seat and concentrated on her white flip flops—the one thing that reminded her of life before this place.
A long silence hung between them; there was no clock, no television or any other fancy gadget to mask the silence.
“On a scale of one to ten where would you say you are today?” He raised an eyebrow and stared at her. And then he crossed his arms and stared some more. He wasn’t going to let up until she said something.
She pushed out a long breath of air, frustrated. “I don’t even know what that means, a scale of one to ten.” She dropped her foot to the ground and sat up straighter. “I’m in rehab.�
��
That didn’t come with a number. It made no sense.
“How you feel. I am well aware you know where you are. In all aspects of your life how do you feel? One being the worst and ten being the best.”
She sat back in her chair and mimicked his pose. “Zero. I feel zero.”
He smiled. Pleased with anything she was willing to give. He scribbled her response down on a small tablet and stood up.
“We will meet again this evening.” He extended a hand which she ignored, standing up and leaving, now that she knew she was free to go back to her room.
She took her time heading down the hallway. It seemed to be the only time they trusted her to be a little free. She crossed her arms as she walked, concentrating on the railing that bordered the entire length of the hallway. She didn’t even notice him as she passed by his room, but he noticed her.
Immediately Hart dropped the book he was reading. The one his grandmother sent him in his weekly care package. One of those cheesy self-help types, he caught a glimpse of his image in the mirror above his dresser. He took a couple seconds running his hand through his hair and quickly found himself in the hallway.
She was trailing her fingertips against the wall lost in an obvious moment of what, he wasn’t sure of. She seemed to always be lost in some other place, never really here or there. He didn’t have to move much quicker before he was walking beside her.
“Four four seven two,” he said softly, staring down at her as she continued the mundane game with the wall. “It’s the code to access the door to the patio.”
She balled her hands into fist realizing she wasn’t alone anymore and merely feet from her room now. “And you know this why?”
He gave an impish grin that normally would have caught most girls off guard. He was handsome, he knew it, shit, the whole world knew it. But not her, at least it didn’t seem like it.
“I’ve been here long enough to know just about everything. Try me.”
She blinked herself into the moment. And her eyes met with his long enough to appreciate the way his dark lashes took over when he looked down at her. She sighed in annoyance and practically agony that this guy, this patient, was wasting time talking to her when he could probably be doing something better with his time. If only he knew even an ounce of what she had going on inside her head. He would know not to bother.
