by Carian Cole
“Okay,” I say. “Do what you need to do, then. It’s late and I have to work in the morning.”
Questions sit at the tip of my tongue, but I suck them back. I won’t ask him if he’s started doing drugs again. I won’t make him feel like I’m doubting him.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Click.
Did he just hang up?
Without saying goodbye or I love you?
He did.
Crying, I sit on the edge of my bed and cover my face with my hands. I’m tempted to pick up the phone and call him back and somehow undo what just happened and go back to happiness and normalcy. Past experience has taught me that if I force him to talk, he will just put walls up, though, and that’s the last thing I want to do. He’ll end up walking fifty miles tonight and end up God-knows-where.
A scratching sound breaks through the sound of my own sobs. Acorn is pawing at the bed.
Smiling weakly, I pat the bed next to me. “Come on up, pupper. We’ll go to sleep.”
He whimpers and rests his chin on the mattress, lifting one paw up.
“Come on,” I say softly. “Let’s go to bed.”
He whimpers again, lifts one front paw, then puts it back on the floor, then lifts the other paw, only to put it back down. His big brown eyes stare up at me and I realize he can’t jump up. Frowning, I bend down and gently lift him onto the bed, and I curl up next to him, my face close to his, nose to nose. I stroke the soft fur of his forehead and watch his eyes close as he falls asleep. So many times this dog has comforted me, kept me warm when I shivered in the shed, kept me company on my loneliest days. People should be more like dogs—with unwavering and unconditional love no matter what. Always happy to see us, always grateful to be with us, never hurting us.
Tomorrow I’ll ask Josh to build a ramp next to the bed for Acorn, and Blue can screw himself if he doesn’t like it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Two days.
Forty-eight hours.
Give or take a few hours, minutes, and seconds.
That’s how long it’s been since I heard from Blue. That might not seem like a long time to some, but it is after talking to him for hours every single night. That time with him has become an incredibly bright spot in the day, something I need to help me get through the day like a morning coffee.
I called him once, and emailed him twice—with no answer from either, and I can’t even describe how upsetting that was. I’ve picked up the phone to call him again at least fifty times, and I’ve chewed my fingernails to stubs debating whether I should call Reece to see if Blue’s okay.
But I don’t want to be that girl.
I’ve been that girl in various degrees for the past few years and I swore I’d never let myself be that crying, speed-dialing, crazy-ass message-leaving person again.
It is so very hard, though, to miss someone—to ache for them emotionally and physically. Blue has turned me into just as much an addict as he is.
Unfortunately, there’s no rehab program for love. Ditra has urged me a million times to date, have sex with other men, and hopefully fall in love with someone else. But to me, that’s a rebound. Or a distraction. I can’t get involved with another guy hoping I’ll love him more, want to be with him more, and will eventually get over Blue. What if I never get over him? That wouldn’t be fair to anyone. I’ve always chosen to just be alone, keep myself as busy as possible, be the best mother I can, and try to put him out of my mind.
Does that work? No.
Especially when I have to look at a little face every day that looks so much like him. And another little face that comes with a wagging tail.
I have a feeling that even if I didn’t have Lyric and Acorn, I’d still be thinking of Blue every day and waiting for our time to come.
After three days of Blue being MIA, my phone rings in the middle of the night, jarring me out of a sound sleep. Before I even answer I know it’s him and I already know he’s going to be a mess.
“Hello?”
“Ladybug, it’s me.” My ear is filled with his deep, scratchy voice. Not his sexy, lemme-drop-my-panties-at-the-sound-of-it voice, but his exhausted, wasted, slurry voice.
I sigh loudly. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve been so messed up, man. I meant to call you but I just couldn’t deal with it.”
“Don’t call me man, please.”
“Sorry.” The sound of him puffing on who-knows-what fills the next few seconds. “I’m sorry, babe. I just—I just I don’t even know. I’ve been so tired and I can’t sleep for shit and my head hurts and I couldn’t find my shirt and I had so much to do but then I just had to just get away from all the noise and all the fucking people just talking and talking and talking and I just wanted to stab my own ears. Do you know what I mean?”
“Not really...”
“I know...because you’re always so good, and you’re so...clear. Ya know?”
I don’t know. I wish I did.
“Blue, I’ve been really worried about you. Do you have any idea how much it upsets me when you just stop calling and emailing and I have no idea what’s going on? You could at least send me an email.”
“I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, okay? I hate when you’re mad.”
“I’m not just mad, I’m hurt and I’m disappointed. And I worry.”
“I am too. About the guy and all that shit... it’s got me all fucked up. It’s like he’s in my life and I’m not even in it.”
Sitting up, I turn on the lamp next to my bed. “Listen to me,” I say softly. “You have nothing to worry about with Josh. He’s just a friend. I’ve never even kissed another man since I met you, and I don’t want to. I only want to be with you.”
“I dunno, babe. I can’t deal with anything. Life. The band. All the fucking clouds. I just wanna sleep and walk and maybe sleepwalk. I want to fly.” He starts to laugh and cough. “I don’t know what the hell I’m saying. I’m thinking of learning a different language. I really just want to learn new words. Better ones than what I’ve got now.”
That sinking feeling of dread starts in my gut, spreads up to my chest and settles as a thick lump in my throat. Every minute of this phone call is slowly eating away at the happiness and hope that I felt for the past month.
“Have you been drinking? Tell the truth, please.”
I hear the clickity clack of his piercing. “Come on....” His voice drips with desperation.
“Just tell me.”
“Yes.”
“What else?” I ask with a shaky voice.
“Piper...” he pleads. “Don’t.”
“Tell me.”
“Everything. All the usual,” he admits. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to numb everything out for one night. That’s it. But then I couldn’t sleep and the night just didn’t end.”
“You know you can’t do that,” I say. “You know you can’t stop once you start.”
“I thought I could this time. I really fucking did, babe. But man it just felt so good....”
“Stop it!” I scream. “I don’t want to hear this.” The tears I’ve been trying to hold back spill from my eyes and I hurl one of my pillows across the room in frustration. Waves of nausea quake through me as the reality of it all sinks in. He’s just thrown all his progress away. He ruined his chance of meeting Lyric any time soon. And he’s once again disintegrated the foundation we were building.
“Hey, I’m sorry—”
“You’re not sorry! You keep doing this to yourself, and to me! What’s wrong with you, Blue? Why do you have to destroy everything when it’s finally getting good? You do this every time. Is this some kind of game to you?”
“Games are fun, Piper. This is the furthest thing from fun. What the fuck?”
“I can’t believe you did this again and I fell for all your promises again. I am so stupid!”
“I’ll stop. Okay?” he says with exaggerated optimism. “Give me a week. Two weeks, tops. I’ll be better.
I promise.”
“You’re lying! You’ve said this all before. You’re never going to stop.”
“I’m trying. You don’t know what it’s like...to feel like this and not be able to just feel normal. You just don’t fuckin’ get it. You live in your perfect little elf life—”
“Excuse me?” I ask. “What perfect life do I have? I have some guy who’s been jerking my heart around for years! I work my ass off every day! I’ve been single since the day you disappeared and ya know what? It sucks. I’m lonely. I wanted to be married and have a family and instead I’m all tangled up in this mess with you because I don’t know how to forget you.” Tears stream down my face as I yell at him. “Do you think I wanted to raise a kid alone? Do you think I want to play house with my bi friend? Do you think I like carrying your poor dog up and down the stairs because he’s too weak to come upstairs by himself? How do you think it feels that both my sisters are married, they go on vacations, and they have all sorts of future plans and I have nothing? Do you even care that my father barely even speaks to me because I got pregnant and abandoned by some homeless guy who fucked me and then ran off? No, Blue, I don’t have a perfect little life at all! I’m stuck in an abyss because I love you and you keep stringing my dumb ass along and I let you because I keep trying to believe in you. And ya know what? You’re not worth it.”
My temples throb with anger and my throat is raw. He’s finally pushed me to my breaking point and I can’t take any more. All the confusion and heartache and false hope is overwhelming.
I can hear him breathing hard on the other end of the phone. “Wow.” His voice is strained when he finally talks. “That’s how you feel? About everything? About me?”
I wipe my nose with a tissue from my nightstand. “Yes.” I know I’m hurting him but I’m beyond caring right now because I’m hurt and I don’t know how to make it stop.
“That’s really fucked up. I thought you loved me and now you tell me I’m not worth it? Fuckin’ great.”
“I do love you! You know I do. Why else would I keep trying with you? Who else would put up with this? The problem is you’re in love with getting high. You love drugs and alcohol more than you love me.”
“No.”
“It’s true! Every time you do this you know you’re going to lose me but you still do it. You just don’t care! You treat me like I’m disposable. You take advantage of me because you know I’ll always try again. You always have!”
“Fuck you, Piper. You don’t understand a fucking thing about me.”
His words are like a sword straight through my heart. I’ve tried so hard to understand him. I’ve tried to be patient and forgiving and it’s gotten me hurt over and over and over again. Even now, he’s so messed up I don’t even think he’s comprehending the gravity of this conversation at all.
“Ya know what? You’re right. I don’t understand you,” I cry. “And I’m sick to death of trying! I don’t want to do this with you anymore. You can go get high and get fucked up and destroy your life and your career, I don’t care anymore! I don’t want you to ever call me again. Do you hear me? I want you to get out of my life for good.”
“Piper....”
“Go to hell!”
I slam the phone down so hard the plastic handset cracks and a small piece flies across the room. Burying my face in my pillow, I cry harder than I’ve ever cried in my entire life. I cry until I can’t catch my breath and my ribs ache and my eyes swell and burn. I cry until there aren’t any more tears and I choke and shake with emptiness.
Why isn’t my love for him enough? Why does he need to get high? How can he tell me that all he wants is for us to be together and then turn around and throw it all away for something as meaningless as drugs and alcohol? It makes zero sense to me.
Like a zombie, I go into my bathroom and fill a small paper cup with water and slowly sip it while I stare at myself in the mirror. My reflection confirms I look exactly how I feel inside.
Broken. Exhausted. Hideous.
I’ve never said such ugly words to anyone, and I wish I could take them all back. This isn’t me. This isn’t me. I’m a good person. I don’t deserve to be treated this way and I hate how horribly I just treated the person I love most, because I don’t feel like he deserves it either. Something is just wrong.
I crawl back into my bed, but I can’t escape into sleep. My brain won’t rest, it keeps playing our conversation on repeat, dredging up more tears. My head pounds with intense pain and feels like it might explode. I go back into the bathroom and swallow three Ibuprofen and a decongestant. I put a cold cloth on my head, but nothing eases the pain in my head.
Or in my heart.
The morning sun filtering through my gauzy curtains does nothing to cheer me. Today isn’t a bright new day like the ones I woke up to when things were going so perfectly between us. Hours have passed since I hung up on him, and I truly thought he would have called and at least attempted to make things better. Isn’t that what he should be doing? Apologizing? And I’d apologize, too. I’d tell him how sorry I am and how much I love him. It’s true I don’t understand him. But I know him, and I’m sure he ran to whatever drugs he has as soon as he hung up the phone, to numb himself from all of this rather than face it. I guess the choice for him is never between me or getting high—his choice is always to escape.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
This month’s child support check came today with a folded note in the envelope. I recognize the thin paper—the same he writes all his notes on.
I don’t unfold it. I put the check in my wallet to take to the bank, and I take the note upstairs to my room.
Do I want to read it?
I’m not sure.
I could shove the note in a drawer and forget it.
I could rip it up and flush the tiny pieces.
Or I can open it and see what Blue has to say.
Of course that’s what I do.
Dear Piper,
I’m trying to do what you asked and stay out of your life. I know that’s what’s best for you and Lyric. Everything you said is true. I’m not worth any part of you. I wish I was worth your love and care. I’ve never understood what you see in me. I’ve never understood why someone so beautiful and sweet would let me touch them. That’s why I can never keep my hands off you. Every touch of you is like a gift, something rare and precious I know I shouldn’t have. But I want it. I want you. I have from the first day I saw you in the park. You asked me what’s wrong with me, why do I wreck things, and the answer is I don’t know. Something is wrong with me or maybe this is just who I am and that makes this normal for me and there’s nothing wrong with me. Whatever it is, I fuck things up and I hurt you and I’m sorry. I know you don’t believe me but I never want to hurt you. I want to give you everything. I want to make you the happiest you’ve ever been. I don’t want to be your favorite regret or your worst memories. I want to be someone you and Lyric can be proud of. I’m trying. I promise you with every part of my heart and soul I’m trying so hard and I’m so tired but I’m not giving up. You be strong and I’ll be strong and someday, we’ll get this right.
Not a day goes by that I don’t ache for you and dream about you. I’d love to tell you to find someone to love you and be happy but I can’t do that, Ladybug. I’m selfish when it comes to you. You’re all I have and all I love and I can’t give you up. Try not to give me up, either.
I love you like no tomorrow,
Blue
That familiar ache burns in my stomach and spreads up to my chest, then to my throat. All I want to do is call him and tell him how much I miss him. I want to tell him I don’t care if he drinks or does drugs or walks halfway across the planet. If we love each other this much, we should be together no matter what.
Maybe I’ve been too hard on him, expecting him to be some kind of perfect that doesn’t exist. Lots of people have addictions and they still have careers and relationships. If I’m patient with him, maybe we can find a way to o
vercome it and he’ll quit for good. It would be so much better than this. There’s no reason we can’t work this out together.
I grab my phone and dial his number.
“Mom?” Lyric pokes her head through the doorway. “Are we taking Acorn for his walk?”
And there it is, my adorable, sweet, world of reason.
Smiling, I press the end call button on the phone before Blue answers.
“I was just coming to get you,” I answer, folding the note back up and putting it in my nightstand with all the others I have saved over the years.
I hope you’re right, Blue, and someday we get this right. For all of us.
Chapter Thirty
Do you think you broke my heart, baby? Do you think I laid down and died?
You ripped my soul out, darlin’, did you think I didn’t care?
If you thought you knew me, take a look around
I don’t even know me, and I’m sick of the lies,
Sweet insanity, where the fuck have you been?
You know you’ve always been my best friend
You showed me heaven, baby, now I’ll show you hell.
I grip the steering wheel and Ditra leans forward and changes the radio station to something else.
“I’m so sick of his lyrical tantrums.” She sighs and puts her bare foot up on my dashboard. “He needs to get over it and get his shit together already.”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I reply, and I don’t. I don’t even want to think about him.
“Billy saw them in concert last month and said they killed it. He loves these harder rock songs on their new album. I guess it’s true that agony breeds creativity.” Billy. Also known as Mohawk Guy. He went home with Ditra that night of the concert and never left. Turns out he’s a nice guy. Smart, too. He’s a video game developer making six figures. He doesn’t have the Mohawk anymore, thankfully. His hair is shoulder length now instead of sticking a foot off the top of his head and he’s actually very good looking. He and Ditra are crazy about each other and have even talked about getting married soon.
