I hold her closer, the layers of tulle in her skirt rustling as she shifts. “What Alec did? Yeah, it bothered me.”
“But you know it wasn’t real, right? I reacted that way because I was playing the part. And maybe I shouldn’t have, but he caught me off guard, and I didn’t—”
“I know,” I say. “It wasn’t that at all.”
She looks up at me with concern. “What was it, then?”
“I didn’t like Alec doing that to you. I knew you weren’t okay with it.” But there’s more to it than that. And all at once I know what it is. “I was jealous. Not of you kissing him, not the performance. That actually wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Now that I’m allowed to kiss you, and be here with you, I don’t care if you have to act like you’re with him for your job.”
She rests her head on my shoulder. “But the proposal. That’s different.”
“Yeah,” I say. Jenna is quiet. Waiting for me to finish. And I can’t help but wonder if this is going to be the time I say too much, and she panics.
“I wanted to be the one doing that,” I say. “I want to be the one who marries you.”
Jenna looks up at me, her gray eyes wide. “Yeah?” she says, in this breathless way.
I pull her even closer, until she’s practically on my lap. “Yeah.”
“I want that, too,” she says softly, and then burrows into me, and I could just stay here like this forever, holding her. Knowing she loves me and wants a life with me, too. After a moment, Jenna sighs. “I wish we could get out now. I should have told him no on stage. Then we could be done and it would be his own damn fault.”
I don’t hate this idea. “But we also wouldn’t get to tour. And we’d both be out of a job . . .”
Jenna laughs. “There’s that.”
“What do you want to do when you’re done? Do you want to keep playing?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Sometimes I think I want to get out of the industry, but I do love performing, and writing music. I would like to change my sound a little. More indie, I guess. Less processed. And definitely more real. I don’t want to lie to the fans anymore.”
I smile. “I could see you falling somewhere between Ani DeFranco’s ‘Not a Pretty Girl’ and Kurt Cobain’s ‘Heart Shaped Box.’”
“I was thinking more like Ben Folds. Me and a piano, you know? Only with more love songs. And this time I can tell the real story.” She nudges me. “Our story.”
I melt until I’m pretty much a puddle. “Think you’ll have room for a cellist?”
She smiles. “I can probably find a place for you. But what about you? Do you like playing with a band, or would you rather go back to classical?”
The way she says the word sounds skeptical, and I put a hand over my heart. “Are you maligning my true love?”
“Now I’m jealous.”
I shake my head. “I’m going to make you fall in love with classical, yet.”
She looks even more skeptical.
“All right,” I say. “I’ll prove it to you. Let me play you a song.”
I don’t particularly want to move right now, but I know this’ll be worth it. So I get June out of the car and bring over a chair and position it beside where Jenna is sitting on the couch, her bare legs tucked underneath her skirt. “Okay,” I say. “Close your eyes.”
Jenna obliges, though I can tell she still has doubts.
“This is how much I love you,” I say. And I play “The Swan” by Saint-Saens. It’s technically supposed to be a sad song, but I’ve always loved the sweeping highs and lows, and the cadence has always felt to me like a love song.
And tonight it is.
I watch Jenna as I play, as the creases around her eyes ease, and her whole body sinks down into the cushions of the sofa. Before rehab I was never good at being honest about how I feel, but I’ve never had that problem with music. I used to say that music was my drug, and in a way it was true. All the things I couldn’t say or do or sometimes even think, I could play. I pour my whole heart into the song, hoping she’ll be able to feel what I feel for her, even though the words, easier to say to her than to anyone, could never fully suffice.
When I finish, she opens her eyes. Now she’s the one who’s turned into a puddle. “Okay,” she says, and her eyes gleam with unshed tears. “I love that song.”
I smile. “I’ll make you love more of them. Give me time.”
“Done,” she says.
And I hope with my whole heart that she will.
Twenty-six
Felix
When I walk into my next appointment with Cecily a few days later, I’m ready for a fight. From the long-suffering look she gives me, she knows it before I even open my mouth.
“I’m living with Jenna now,” I say.
Her eyebrows go up. “Jenna. The girl you’re not allowed to date?”
“Yeah. We may have changed the rules.”
Cecily takes a deep breath, and I see her trying to adjust to this. “How do you feel about that?”
“Great.”
She narrows her eyes. I know she can tell by my fake smile and bravado that there’s more to it, but I’m not giving anything up.
“Excellent,” she says. “How’s your attendance at meetings?”
It’s my turn to narrow my eyes. Cecily doesn’t think this is excellent. She’s trying to dodge the fight. Which is fine, except I know she’ll sneak back around to the subject sooner or later. “I’ve missed a few. But I’m still going. And I’m still clean.”
“Glad to hear it,” Cecily says. “Are the missed meetings because of Jenna?”
They are. Now that I’m living with her, it’s harder to get away every day without telling her what’s going on—all the more reason I need to. But that night after the show scared me. I have to hang on to my sobriety. I know I do. And she does know about the drugs. She just doesn’t know everything. Yet.
“I’m in a band that’s about to go on tour. I’ve had to practice,” I say. “Plus I’ve been spending time with my sister, and now my girlfriend. All good things that are keeping me from using, so I’m going to call it a win.”
Today when I left the house I told Jenna I was going to visit Gabby, and I did. I’ve told Gabby several times since the show that I’m okay, but I think she needed to actually see me to ensure that I was.
“How are you feeling about all of that?” Cecily asks.
“Great. How am I supposed to feel?”
Cecily sits back in her chair. “You seem defensive.”
Hell yes, I do. “You seem judgmental.”
Cecily raises an eyebrow. “Do you think perhaps you’re projecting your own judgment of the situation onto me?”
“I think perhaps you’ve already told me you think it’s a bad idea for me to be in a relationship so soon, so there’s no reason to pretend you feel otherwise.”
Cecily nods. “And that makes you feel judged.”
“It makes me feel frustrated. Because you’re supposed to be helping me stay clean, and now I feel like I have to fight you for what I want instead of you helping me figure out how to have what I want and sobriety, too.”
Cecily looks surprised at my honesty, and I have to admit I am, too. Maybe I’m getting better at this whole talking about my feelings thing.
I suspect Jenna has no small part in that.
“All right,” Cecily says. “Fair point. If you’ve already decided to live with this woman—”
“Jenna.”
“—if you’ve already decided to live with Jenna, you’re right. I’m not going to talk you out of it. So let’s move forward from there.”
“Thank you.”
“How is this affecting your relationship with your family?”
I sigh. “My sister thinks it’s awesome.”
&n
bsp; “Your sister Gabby?”
“Yeah.” No one else is allowed to know, but I can’t explain that to Cecily. “I haven’t told Dana. We’re not that close. And I think my parents are both glad to have me off their couches.”
Cecily nods. “Do you feel like the emotional energy you’re expending on this relationship is going to interfere with your efforts to regain their trust?”
“Regaining their trust means staying clean,” I say. “And I’m doing that. I’m also gainfully employed, and performing for real audiences again. We had our first show on Saturday.”
“And how was that?” Cecily asks.
From the lack of expectation in her tone, I take it she hasn’t put any of the pieces together. She has no idea who Jenna is, much less that she’s pretending to be engaged to Alec.
“Good. And also rough. After the show one of the band members did something that pissed me off, and I sat in my car for a long time before I could trust myself to go anywhere without using.”
Again, Cecily looks impressed. “So you were triggered and you coped.”
“Yeah. Give me a gold star.”
“How in control would you say you were during that episode?”
God. “On a scale of one to ten? Like a two. But I didn’t use. I didn’t take my hands off my steering wheel until I knew I wouldn’t.”
“Good for you. How would you rate yourself in terms of using the tools available to you to manage the episode?”
I pause. That’s a question I haven’t thought about. “I probably should have called someone.”
“Like a sponsor?” Cecily asks.
I glare. “Like my sister. She was available. I asked her to keep her phone on in case I needed to call, but I didn’t. I probably would have been safer if I had.”
Cecily nods. Again. She’s beginning to remind me of the bobble-head Simpsons figures behind her. “And is Jenna someone you can talk to about these things?”
I’m having to hide so much of this relationship, I decide to tell the truth. “She doesn’t know everything about the drugs yet.”
Cecily presses her lips together. “She doesn’t know you’re in recovery.”
“She does,” I say. “But not the details.”
“Are you afraid of how she’ll handle knowing the whole truth?”
“Yes. And I’m going to tell her, but I want to be sure I can maintain my sobriety first, even if it ends.”
Cecily looks impressed that I brought up the possibility of it ending before she did, which I gather is where the conversation was going. “You think the end of this relationship is a risk to your sobriety.”
“Of course it is,” I say. “I’m not stupid. But being alone is also a risk to my sobriety. I’m working on it. I’m having a lot more good days. But I’m never going to be able to have anything good in my life if I’m always afraid of taking the risk.” My voice breaks, and I didn’t realize how strongly I felt about this until I find the words. “Maybe some people can wrap their whole lives in the program for an entire year and feel safe that way, but I just feel empty. I need to be doing something. I need people in my life who I can give something to. Being needed makes me less likely to relapse, and not because I’m dependent on it, but because it makes me feel good about myself, which is something I haven’t felt in years.”
Cecily smiles like I’ve won her over, which surprises me, because for once I wasn’t trying. “I’m proud of you. It takes courage to take the kinds of risks you’re taking, and you seem like you’re thinking these things through, and that’s good.”
“But?”
“But I think you need to have a plan for what you’re going to do if it ends,” she says. “It’s good for you to have people in your life who make you feel better about yourself, but what happens when you don’t?”
“I won’t use. If I have to lock myself in a closet without a phone until I’m in control again, I will not use.”
“Good.” Cecily smooths out a wrinkle in her tan suitcoat. “Today’s a big day for you.”
I smile. “Sixty days.”
“Have you gotten your chip yet?”
“No. I’m going straight to a meeting after this.”
“A lot of my clients tell me the second thirty days are the hardest. Rehab’s over, the intense withdrawals are done, but you’re getting back into regular life and it’s easy to fall into old patterns.”
“It’s true. Last time I only made it six weeks.” It startles me to realize I’m only two weeks past that now, not because I’m afraid I’m going to relapse, but because of how much more in control I feel.
“What do you think the difference was this time?”
I think about that. Even at six weeks, at four weeks, back in rehab, the difference was palpable. “I think I finally hit the bottom. I heard at a meeting once that rock bottom doesn’t exist. You can always go deeper, so the bottom for you is the place you decide to turn around.”
“For you it was Katy.”
That’s true, and I hate it. “Yeah, maybe. But Katy was a person with dreams and goals and an addiction that killed her. It’s not fair of me to think of her as a thing that happened to me, as something I needed to happen to get better.”
“Maybe she wasn’t,” Cecily says. “Maybe her death is something that happened to her, and you being there for it is the thing that happened to you that finally convinced you to stop digging and climb back up.”
“I still hate myself for it.” I’m surprised by how much it’s true. All the stuff with Jenna, all the struggle to stay clean, it’s buried the feeling a bit, but it’s still there.
“Do you think hating yourself is helping you stay sober?”
“Obviously not,” I say. “But apparently it’s not stopping me, either.”
“That’s good,” Cecily says. “Keep working the steps. They’ll help you get closer to forgiveness.”
The truth is, I don’t want to be forgiven. Katy doesn’t get another chance, and I know I don’t deserve one. I want to believe in God, in absolution, in forgiveness. But. “I’m not sure I think that’s a thing for someone like me.”
“Do you think your family would agree with you?”
My heart sinks. “No.” My parents are pissed at me, and rightly so, but they haven’t given up on me. Gabby forgave me, even after the shit I dragged her through. “But maybe I think they’re wrong.”
“Maybe that’s why you haven’t told Jenna everything,” Cecily says. “Because deep down, you don’t think she could know what you’ve done and love you.”
My mouth goes dry. It’s true, but I don’t know what to do about it. The idea of losing her feels like it’s going to destroy me, but maybe by hanging on, sticking around when I know I’m not good enough for her, I’m just setting us both up to have our hearts broken. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “I think you’re right.”
“What makes you think you’re so unlovable?”
I have answers, but I can shoot every one of them down myself, so I don’t feel the need to utter them in my own defense. “I don’t know.”
Cecily eyes me for a moment, but when I don’t offer up any more, she nods. “Think about it this week. And we’ll talk about it at your next session. We have another before you go on tour?”
“Yes,” I say. “While I’m gone, can we meet over the phone?”
Cecily smiles. “Glad you asked. We can absolutely work that out. Get to your meeting, Felix. I’ll see you next week.”
Twenty-seven
Felix
Gabby texts me at least twenty times the morning of Anna-Marie’s wedding. Do I have the address to the reception center? Do I remember where to park and where to enter so Anna-Marie won’t see us arrive? Did Alec and Jenna really agree to this? Because Josh already cancelled on the band they’d originally booked, and if we don’t show up, we will have
ruined the wedding.
I do my best to reassure her. I even send her a picture of Jenna and Alec all dressed up for the wedding. I’d much rather send one of Jenna and me, but there can’t be photographic evidence. I’m glad we’re only talking about getting through the tour, because the idea of never taking a picture of us together for the first four years of our relationship is gut-wrenching.
While we’re getting ready to go, I check to make sure my new chip is in my pocket. Cecily is right, these last thirty days mean more than the ones in rehab. I could have walked out the door there any time, but I was also surrounded by structures to help me stay clean. Out here, there’s nothing between me and a dealer but my own commitment, and it feels pretty damn good to know I can do it.
I follow Jenna into the kitchen and we kiss against the pantry doors. She’s wearing the enormous rock Alec gave her a week ago, but I try to focus on the way she feels in my arms, the sensation of her hands in my hair. I’m starting to understand what she means when she says she believes in the story. It’s our story, and that matters more than all the lies Alec can tell.
We arrive at the venue and set up—Anna-Marie and Josh are getting married in a pavilion on the beach, and then retreating for a reception in the courtyard of this old ranch house covered in ivy and exposed wood. It’s very rustic, and their wedding planner has decorated the place in silver and blue and sparkles that somehow manage to look classy.
It’s not until then that I realize I’ve gone straight from a concert that turned into a proposal to a performance at a wedding. I’d say fate must be trying to tell me something, but really what I wish is that it would just get out of my damn way and let Jenna and me figure it out on our own.
Still, standing in the middle of the wedding decor, I’m hoping this might be some sort of preview of my own future. I’ve been living with her and Ty (and Alec, I suppose, though he’s thankfully been avoiding us) for a week and a half now, and getting to be part of their daily lives is even better than I’d imagined. Eating meals together, playing video games with Ty, working on songs with Jenna, the three of us curled up on the couch watching movies before Ty’s bedtime, and then making love to Jenna late into the night—it’s the life I never even thought to dream of until mere weeks ago, and yet it feels like the one I’ve been longing for my whole life.
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