by S M Broad
“Losing you.” His eyes track to mine as he replies, the hushed words clanging around the room louder than a bullhorn.
Holy shit.
I was not expecting him to say that.
“Where are they?” He changes the subject, fidgeting in the chair as if he suddenly remembers I said I found his stash.
“I got rid of them.”
“You had no right, Leila!” His voice grows louder, more aggressive.
“Bullshit, I didn’t.” I stand my ground.
“You think you can just throw my shit out? I need those!” He drags his fingers through his hair, agitated.
“Just forget it. I don’t even know why the hell I came here. I gotta go.” He storms toward the front door. My breathing picks up as I watch him, anger flaring inside me right alongside a jolt of fear.
“Stop!” I shout at his back, halting him with a hand around the brass knob. He turns with a look of annoyance stuck on his face.
“What?” He eyes me with displeasure. “Stop?”
“I’m sorry, Kohen, but you’re not going anywhere.” I raise my chin at him. He laughs blankly, retracing his steps to stop in front of the counter across from me.
“You gonna force me to stay?” He leans forward to tower over me, a move I’m sure he means for intimidation. I want to scoff, because I’m not the least bit afraid of him, even with the harsh look on his face. Instead of snapping at him, I soften my tone.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now; you need to get help.”
“Here we fucking go,” A hand flies to his forehead as he stares at my white painted ceiling. “Always thinking you know what’s best.”
“You know what?”
“What, Leila?” He challenges me with a defiant glare.
“Go ahead and yell at me, push me away; but I’m not letting you walk out that door.” I shove my finger in his direction and speak before my brain processes the thought entirely. “You can stay here.”
What the holy fuck am I doing?
“What?” His jaw drops open. I lift my mug and take a drink of my coffee, thinking about my words, if I really mean them.
“I said you can stay here.”
“You’re not serious.” His anger fades into astonishment. No matter how much he’s hurt me, I can’t let him live on the street where his addiction will undoubtedly get worse. Where he could end up dead in a dirty alley after a drug deal has gone wrong. I don’t have the stomach to yell at him anymore. As angry as I am about everything that’s happened, I won’t send him away. I may be pissed off, hurt, but I still care.
I care too much.
“I have an unused guest room. You can stay in it, but if you’re gonna live here, there will be rules.”
“Okay.” He nods apprehensively.
“No drinking, no drugs. You get the help you need.” I look at him pointedly. “Go to meetings; get a sponsor, whatever you have to do to get clean.” He nods again, eyes wide at my conditions.
“I mean it, Kohen. This is my house. I have a business to run, I watch Hensley sometimes, and I will not have her around this shit. If you don’t, you’ll be on your own.”
“I understand.”
“Do you really?” I stress the question.
“Yes.”
That’s that, I suppose.
I turn to refill my coffee cup.
“Leila?”
“Hmm?” I look over my shoulder at him.
“What about us?” The question takes me off guard, and I have to take a moment to compose an answer that doesn’t have so much bite to it.
“There is no us.” I try not to sound so bitchy, but he has to know that I mean what I say.
“Not in that way, not anymore, Kohen. We’ll take it day by day and be friends.” It’s painful to say, the word sour on my tongue, but I cannot dig myself deeper with him. Not now, not ever again.
This is the way it has to be.
“Alright, I understand.” His voice is barely a whisper, but I still hear the regret and hurt.
“You need a shower; do you have your clothes?” I turn away to pull some eggs from the fridge.
“They’re in the Jeep.”
“Go clean up, and I’ll make breakfast.”
“None for me, thanks though.”
I spin around, staring at him through squinted eyes. I realize he’s probably not hungry because the sperm donor never used to eat after a bender, but I won’t be deterred.
My house, my rules.
This time I’ll do everything in my power to bring him back to the Kohen I used to know. His voice shifts because he knows I’m not going to back down.
“Breakfast sounds good.” He says quickly before leaving through the front door, returning with a suitcase and a duffle bag a moment later. I show him to the room and tell him he can use the guest bathroom as his own also. He shuffles into the plainly decorated space, setting his stuff down before turning back to look at me.
“Thank you, Leila.”
“You’re welcome.” I nod, going back to the kitchen.
What the hell just happened, and why does it feel like a terrible idea?
Chapter 13
I never thought one week could feel like a lifetime, but that’s how long Kohen has been staying with me, and I feel like screaming because I’m so damn frustrated with everything. The way he’s been lashing out, the hurt I feel, the general shitty situation has my nerves shot to hell.
I did some research about withdrawal, and now I know Kohen’s behavior is entirely normal. Not that it makes things any easier. I’m trying to be supportive, but constantly walking on eggshells, so I don’t set him off is taking a toll on me.
He’s been so sick, angry- saying unnecessary things just to hurt me. I take it in stride, brushing it off because I know it’s just the toxins leaving his body as he fights his way back to sobriety. This is his way of coping without the devices to numb himself.
I stare down at my phone, desperately wanting to call Aayla and tell her what’s going on because I need to talk to someone. Instead, I push it aside to finish dinner. I tug on a brown potholder to take the steaming spinach and three cheese Manicotti in Alfredo sauce out of the oven, placing it on the back burner to cool. I cut up some lettuce, carrots, and cucumbers to toss together an easy salad before whipping together a quick vinaigrette. Grabbing two of my bright colored fiesta ware plates that Aayla got me as a housewarming gift out of the cupboard, I set the table and dish out the food. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and trudge down the short hallway to Kohen’s room.
I gird my loins, bracing myself to talk to him. I’ve seen very little of him because he mostly stays holed up in his room, smoking like a chimney. I knock lightly and wait for an answer.
“What?” He snaps, his voice sharp even through the wood of the door.
“I made dinner; would you like to come to sit with me?”
“No.”
“Please, Kohen? I don’t want to eat alone.” I wait, hoping the desperation in my tone will reach him on some level. A short second later, the door swings open, and he stands before me looking exhausted, lethargic. He slinks past me, skulking down the hall and into the kitchen to sit at the dining table. A tiny hint of a smile pulls at my lips as I follow Kohen, grabbing our plates before joining him. I pick up my fork and take a bite while Kohen just stares at the stuffed shells and salad.
“Aren’t you hungry? You should eat a little bit.”
“Aren’t you going to stop nagging?” He spits at me, eyes angry. My brows crease as I keep eating in silence while he just sits there sulking. The air grows heavier the longer we sit in silence. I finally open my mouth to talk again, when an outburst from Kohen rattles me.
“Stop it for Christ's sake! Just shut up and leave me the fuck alone!” Kohen yells, tugging at his long hair.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” He shouts again, making me cringe. Agitated, he grabs the edge of the yellow dinner plate and thr
ows it across the room. I flinch as the expensive dish smashes against the wall. I watch the noodles and white sauce stick to the drywall for a minute, before flopping to the floor in a heap of mangled food and broken glass. I bite my tongue. Tossing my napkin onto my own plate, I get up and walk into the kitchen, taking a bucket of supplies from under the sink to clean the mess.
“Why are you doing this to me? Do you hate me that much?” He shoves the chair backward, storming outside. I watch him pace the backyard, lighting a cigarette and flicking his Zippo open and shut in repetition. Shaking my head with a frustrated sigh, I suck my tears back and start wiping the wall down. I scrub the sauce off, gripping the sponge harder as my anger takes over.
“Fuck!” In a fit of overwhelming emotion, my collected attitude cracks, and I throw the sponge across the room to make yet another mess for myself to clean. Tucking my knees up to my chest, I lay my head back against the wall and let the tears finally fall.
Chapter 14
I fidget nervously as I sit in Aayla’s kitchen and watch her bustle about making turkey sandwiches for lunch. Kohen has been living with me going on three weeks now, and I’m just finding the courage to tell her and Latham. I look anywhere but at them, glancing at a picture of Hensley dressed as a frog from Halloween, stalling until the last possible second. With Thanksgiving coming up in just a few weeks, I want the air cleared between Kohen and Latham, who still haven’t spoken after the disaster on Davis’ birthday.
I know they’re going to be upset that I’ve been hiding him, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt; give him a chance to follow through with his end of our deal before I tell anyone what’s been happening, and he has. I’m proud of how far he’s come in such a short amount of time.
I’ve been scheduling my photography sessions around his AA and substance abuse meetings. Taking him three times a week to them, waiting in the parking lot, and then bringing him back to my house to make sure he gets the support he needs. I also make sure he eats to keep his strength up, it’s not much, but what he manages to keep down seems to be helping. He’s filled out a little more, not as muscular as he used to be, but he’ll get there once he’s in the right headspace and physically strong enough to start working out again. The energy between us has still been tense. His temper and attitude from withdrawals have hit an all-time low, but I’ve been by his side the whole time.
I do whatever I can to help him, and that won’t stop until he’s one hundred percent. Today is the first full day that he’ll be alone, and I pray he can get through it without me because I’m booked with shoots all day. There was no way I could reschedule with my clients for a second time.
“So, what did you want to tell us?” Aayla rubs her now rounder fourteen-week belly as she waits for me to talk. Latham eyes me like he knows something, making me avert my gaze.
Again.
“Um,” I wipe my clammy hands on my jeans. “I sort of got a roommate.” I’m met with silence as Aayla goes back to making her sandwich, and Latham folds his arms across his chest.
“Oh, really, who is it?” Latham asks smugly. He knows, he totally knows.
Son of a shit.
“It’s Kohen.” I cough to cover my nervous shakes.
“I’m sorry, what?” Aayla gasps, dropping the mustard covered butter knife. I watch as the silver utensil clatters to the floor.
“I got it.” Latham rips a paper towel from the roll and crouches down to wipe up the mess.
“Yeah...Kohen’s kind of been staying with me.”
“Leila, is that a good idea?” She leans forward on the counter while Latham finishes cleaning. “Has he been drinking? What about drugs? Oh, my God! Are you guys sleeping together?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow your roll, Sara Lee.” I hold my hands up to get her to stop talking. “No, he’s not drinking. No, he hasn’t been using, and no, we are not sleeping together. Jesus, Aayla.” I rub my forehead. “He’s going to AA meetings.”
“How did he even end up at your house?” Latham asks, clearly worried for his friend even though they aren’t on speaking terms.
“He showed up drunk out of his mind, and basically word vomited all this stuff to me. He lost his apartment and didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t turn him away.” I take a gulp of the ice water Latham hands me to cool down.
“I have to help him, and with Thanksgiving coming up, well…” I look at Latham, who’s suddenly not looking at me anymore and reach across the counter to touch his arm. “Latham, he needs you. Make amends, he’s your best friend, your family.”
“Leila’s right, honey. We’re really all he's got besides his mom and sister.” Aayla puts her hand on his back.
He sighs. “Okay, I’ll talk to him, but are you sure this is the best idea? Letting him stay with you?”
No.
I nod. “No matter what he’s done to me, I still care about him.”
“We know you still care; we just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“I can take care of myself, but I love you both for worrying about me.” I check my phone for the time. “I gotta get going.” I hug them and say goodbye, stopping back at my house quickly to check on Kohen before I head out to my first photography session.
He’s sitting on his bed in the guest room, shaking and bouncing his legs violently. He puffs a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the open window. I want to tell him the smoking has to go too, but at least for the time being, it will help curve some of the cravings.
Baby steps, Leila.
“Kohen, are you okay?” I take a step into the room, drawing back when he turns to glare at me.
“No, I am not fucking okay.” He shifts. “I need something.” He looks up at me, eyes pleading. “Just to take the edge off.” He flicks the cigarette into his makeshift ashtray, an old pop can.
“No, you don’t.”
“What the fuck do you know?” He snaps harshly, staring at me with dark circles clinging to the underside of his eyelids.
Don’t lose your cool.
“I know you’re stronger than this. Should I cancel my session and take you to a meeting?” I inch closer, careful not to set him off. “Do you want me to call Latham?” I try to hand him a sucker from the pocket of my jeans, something to keep his mind preoccupied and off the pain, flinching when he smacks it out of my hand. I bend to pick it up, setting it at the end of the bed for him in case he reconsiders later.
“No. I don’t fucking need you. I don’t need Latham or a goddamn babysitter. I’m a grown-ass man. I’ll be fine, just go the hell away.” He turns away from me, hiding his face. I sigh, trying not to let his words hurt me.
“Alright, well, I’ll have my phone with me the whole time. Call if you need anything. Okay?”
“Yeah.” He looks at me more softly, regretfully, for speaking to me in such a nasty way. “Sure.”
I turn around to leave, walking to the door.
“Leila.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “Mhm?”
“I’m sorry.”
I smile faintly. “I know.”
I get held up by a train on my way home with dinner, Kohen’s favorite; double mushroom pizza from Domino’s, and it’s almost eight when I finally pull into the driveway. I set the box on the dash and climb out, grabbing it before shutting the car door. I walk up the sidewalk and push into the house, setting my camera bag down before making my way to the kitchen.
“Kohen? I got pizza.” I call into the quiet space, listening for his answer but only hear the shower running. My anxiety flares when I get no response. A cold, hard dread seeps into me, turning the blood in my veins icy. I toss the pizza box on the counter, racing to the bathroom as fast as my feet will carry me.
Dropping my phone by the open door, I rush into the room and yank open the shower curtain, gasping in horror when I see Kohen under the spray. He’s white as a sheet and unmoving. His dark, shadowed eyes are closed, face ashen, and lifeless. I stare at h
is crumpled body for a terrifyingly long moment, thinking he’s dead until he moans agonizingly, flopping his head sideways as he throws up. Chunks of unrecognizable food mixed with stomach acid fill the tub basin, clogging the drain.
“Oh, my God.” I climb into the shower with him, uncaring of the acrid smell and screech when the freezing water hits my back. “Holy shit!”
How long has he been here like this?
I quickly turn the water off and shake him gently, grabbing his pale face in my hand.
“Kohen look at me. Say something.” I feel his burning forehead, worried that he’s so warm despite being drenched with cold water, unknowing if he’s wet from being soaked or if there’s just that much sweat seeping from his pores as his body forces the toxins out. His head lolls as he looks at me, teeth chattering. His normally bright, blue eyes are gray and cloudy.
“I was c-cold, wanted to warm up, but I got d-dizzy. Then I felt sick, and I c-couldn’t catch my breath. I f-fell.” He sucks in a shallow gulp of air, words running together as he slurs deliriously. I check him for any blood but find none, which means he must not have hit his head.
“Did you take something?” I worry, looking around for a baggie of pills or any sign of drugs.
“N-No.”
Jesus Christ, I need to get him out of here.
“Hang on.” I jump out of the tub, skittering across the tile floor in my wet jeans to grab my phone and blindly punch at my contacts until I find the one I’m looking for.
Please pick up, please pick up.
Please.
“Leila?” Latham answers on the third ring.
Thank God.
“Latham, I need help. Kohen…” A rough cry catches in my chest so hard I’m unable to finish my sentence.
“I’ll be right there.” The line disconnects, and I scramble back to the tub, climbing in to hold Kohen’s head in my lap.
“You’ll be okay.” I rock him like a fragile baby, cradled in my arms like I can keep him safe. I hold on with all my strength as he fights to stay conscious. “Kohen wake up. Look at me.” I slap his cheek lightly, getting his drooping eyelids to flutter back open. “Stay with me, okay?”
