She retracts her bottom lip, giving me that pouty look she uses to get her way. “Just once. Let’s have some fun. One more last party, Rogan. It makes the sex phenomenal. Come on. For me?”
I’m already high as a kite, and I know it. Imagining anything greater seems impossible. I shake my head and fight the urge to disappoint her. It’s going to be hard enough making sure we stick with the plan. “It’s a bad idea, babe. I don’t want to indulge in that kind of mistake.”
She’s already pulling a rock out of the small plastic bag and sticking it in the spoon. I watch the hot flame of the lighter dragging across the underneath of the steel utensil. “I’m doing it without you, then, sissy.”
“What if Mila wakes up and we’re incoherent?”
“She’s not going to wake up. When is the last time that child got up in the middle of the night? She’s been sleeping full eight hours for the past year.”
“She could get sick,” I indicate.
“Whatever. I should have known you couldn’t handle it. Suit yourself. I’m doing it.”
“Have you done this before?” I hate asking when I already know the answer. Etherly partied before we met. She’s familiar with every kind of drug and where to get them. All I’ve ever done is provide her with the cash to make it happen. This new venture of hers makes me curious as to where and when she acquired such substance, and if our daughter happened to be with her when she did. “Was Mila with you when you got this shit?”
“No, of course not. What do you take me for? Becky brought it over this morning.”
“Becky?” It’s a name from the past. They were best friends, but she started doing heroin and we both decided she wasn’t trustworthy when she was using. “She was here?”
“Don’t give me that look. She just got out of rehab. It was left over and she couldn’t throw them away.”
“So she thought bringing them into our home was a good idea?” My head is beginning to pound. A rush of angers fills me. My mood is crushed by this threat.
Etherly shrugs while still watching the rock melt down to a liquid. “No, dumbass. She came by to apologize for her actions, ya know, part of the steps or something. Anyway, she mentioned they needed to be thrown away, so I told her I’d take care of it. You should see all the stuff she had. Pipes and a case of needles. I threw everything used away and just kept this one that was still in the wrapper.”
This doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m scared shitless. Bad crap happens when people experiment with things they’re unfamiliar with. “I don’t want you to do this.”
I try to take the spoon and the liquid pours out on the bed. Etherly stands up on the mattress and starts to kick me away. “Asshole. This shit costs money.”
“Money you didn’t spend, right?” When she doesn’t answer I repeat, “Right?” The room continues to spin as I await a response that seems to take extra long to get.
She grits her teeth, while remaining over me, her foot positioned to inflict extreme pain to my nether regions. “Whatever. I’m doing it one last time, with or without you. You’re not my fucking father, Rogan. You’re my husband. I’m asking you to share this with me. Stop being such a damn pussy and live a little. Why do you always have to bring me down?”
I stand up and pace around the room, watching her take another rock from the baggy and stick it on the heated spoon. Now I’m scared for her. What if she has a bad experience? How will I know what the signs are to start worrying? Will I even be coherent enough to notice? Should I do this with her to protect her, or is that even worse of an idea?
Then it happens. I watch her take the syringe and suck up the boiling hot liquid. She wraps a fabric headband around her arm to force her veins to bulge. I’m awestruck as she flicks the inside of her elbow until she finds the spot she desires. It’s slow motion as the syringe nears the area. “Please don’t do this.”
Her smile is almost sickening. “I wish you could share this with me, one last time, Rogan.” There are real tears in her eyes. “You never let me have fun anymore. Don’t you want to experience euphoria while you’re making love to me?”
I watch the needle pressing against her tender skin. My eyes close. I refuse to watch, but just as I begin to turn away, I dart forward and knock the needle from her grip. She attacks me, slapping me while yelling profanities. “You take everything from me! I hate you!”
“No, you don’t.” I grab hold of her arms and force her still. “You don’t hate me.”
I see nothing but revulsion when our eyes meet. She detests me for sure. I’m weak when she gets like this. My heart aches for the torturous battle that takes her further from reality. She’s high. She’ll say whatever it takes to get a reaction from me.
“I wish we never married. You ruined everything. Just so you know, these drugs are mine. I got them weeks ago. Shows how much you pay attention to your own wife.”
My grip weakens as my heart takes a serious punch. Then she rushes from the room with her paraphernalia, locking me out of the bathroom to prevent me from getting to her in time.
I’m on the opposite side of the six paneled solid oak door, wishing the old house we rent didn’t have such strong structural features. There’s no way I can bust the door, but the lock is probably manageable.
I shove my hip into the door three times before it breaks ajar. Etherly is slumped down between the tub and the toilet, her eyes glazed over and her head barely able to lift.
I’m pissed, irrefutably at a loss for words. In this moment I know I’m fighting a losing battle. There is no end to her wrath. She’s on a path of destruction and asking her to stop isn’t going to get us progress. She needs help, and I know as soon as I’m sober I’m going to do whatever it takes to get her into a program where a group of professionals can do what I’ve been unable to make happen.
As I watch her lose consciousness and seep into a pool of madness, I make a promise to myself that I’ll never touch another drug again, because I’m not about to risk the safety of our daughter. One day when Etherly is clean she’ll thank me for helping her. She’ll be grateful I saved her from herself, and gave her the opportunity to raise our child right.
It’ll happen, even if it’s the last thing I do.
Half Shelled Heart (Oyster Cove, #2) Page 17
