by Jane Anthony
My Chase.
The dogs go berserk as I let myself in through the door. Aphro’s twitchy little body going into overdrive as she tries to exert dominance over the thunderous woof, woof, woof of Zeus next to her. “It’s just me, guys, relax!”
I throw my iPod into the bowl we keep by the door for keys and kick off my running shoes. “Daddy up yet?” I ask the pups, knowing full well they aren’t going to answer as I barrel through them to get down the hall. The bed is empty. “Chase?” I call, walking through the small space. Our home isn’t big. A two bed, two bath ranch with a few steps up leading to the master suite. Just enough for our little family. My point being, he can’t be far.
“In here!” I hear him call from the en suite bathroom, his usually smooth voice gravelly and thick, preceded by the sound of retching.
Chase’s face rests on the lip of the seat, his bad leg stretched along the length of the wall, and his good one curled underneath, kneeling before the porcelain throne. “Aww, babe. What happened?”
He lifts his head and drops it in his hand, the letters C, O, M, E splayed out across his face. “Fuck,” is his only response.
“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I reach into the tub and turn the handle. The water rushes into the basin angry and fast, steam growing from the rise of water pooling below. Grasping the hem, I tear off his soiled shirt and toss it in the corner to deal with later. For better or worse, I think to myself as I help him to his feet and push down his boxer briefs, taking great care to pull them over his bandage.
Together, we hobble to the tub. I sit him on the edge and wait as he throws his good leg over the side and sinks inside, his broken one resting on the rim. “I hope you didn’t catch something in the hospital.” I reach for the washcloth and run it up across his chest. It rises like the tide as I reach his stomach then stop.
“I’m all right.” He cups his hands together and splashes some water on his face before threading his fingers with mine. “I feel better already.”
Shame heats my cheeks. While I was outside whining about how mean he is, Chase was in here ralphing his guts out. I’m seriously such a selfish asshole. “You relax. I’m gonna go make some lunch.”
“Stay with me.” His fingers tighten their grip and pull me back.
The small smile that curls my lips can’t be helped. Dark lashes spike across each sea-glass eye like tiny crowns. He sucks on the corner of his mouth, sliding the tiniest tip of his tongue through the ring embedded in his skin. Watching that minuscule piece of jewelry prance renders me stupid every time.
“Come here.” He crooks his finger, calling me closer.
“What?”
“Just come here.” I bend over, following his beck and call. As soon as I’m within reach, he cups his hand around my neck and pulls me closer. “I love you.” When Chase presses his lips to my forehead, damp warmth rises from his skin.
“I love you, too, babe.”
The palest shade of ice blue peeks through his lashes as he looks up at me, a grey expression of humility marring his gorgeous face. “I fucked up, Kat, and I need your help.”
“Anything, baby.” A cool chill spreads across my skin, dotting it with goose bumps. I kneel on the furry gray rug at the edge of the tub and rest my elbows on the rim. “What happened?”
It takes him a while to spit out the words. His fingers tremble as they tangle with mine, regardless of the steam rising from the surface of the water. “Rolled in a pair of socks and shoved in the bottom right corner of my drawer, you’ll find a prescription bottle.”
That cold chill prickling my flesh turns to a thick layer of ice. I’m frozen from my core right down to my toes. “How many did you take?”
“Doesn’t matter.” The whites of his eyes shimmer dark pink. “Flush them down the toilet, something. Just take them away from me.”
I push to my feet, stagger toward the bedroom, and yank open his dresser drawer. There in the back corner, exactly where he said they were, is the bottle of pills he’s been squirreling away.
With quivering hands, I twist off the lid. A row of white tablets slides from the container and scatters around my palm. I lift the bottle and look at the label. Once containing twenty pills, only seven remain.
Holding back the tears brimming to the surface, I clench the pile inside my fist and bring it to my forehead, willing the riot in my chest to wane.
A sharp breath hits my lungs. I drop my arm and stare at the bold face of the reflection before me. A little older, a little wiser. Two years under my belt, and I have Chase to thank for every second of it. I can do this. We can do this. Together.
I stalk back to the bathroom and hover my fist over the toilet before releasing my fingers. The tablets fall one by one, rippling the surface of the waiting water. I watch them chase after one another in a spinning cyclone fast and faster, lower and lower until there’s nothing left but the rising tide. “They’re gone.”
Chase’s silence is deafening. His head still rests in his hands, dark hair spiking through the rows of lettered ink. Overcome. A reminder to himself of the things he’s achieved. The life he recovered after years of plummeting to a slow, self-induced death. “You’re gonna be okay,” I promise. And he will. I know it. He’s the strongest man I’ve never known. Yet his shoulders heave with remorse, his curled-up body shriveling in on itself as if this one small setback has damaged him beyond repair.
Chapter 6
Chase
“Hey. Chase. Addict.”
A jumbled mix of hellos rumbles from the crowd. All these meetings are the same. Same bad coffee, same musty church basements, same sad faces greeting me with false hope bleeding through their fake smiles. Yeah, they’re clean, but the remnants of their past lives live on in their dead eyes. The same ones I see staring back at me every time I look in the mirror these days.
“I had a slipup recently.” Beads of sweat gather on my palms. I absentmindedly slide them down my legs and attempt to sit up straighter in my chair as I prepare to say what I don’t want to admit out loud. I threw away four years of sobriety. Four years. In the blink of an eye, I lost everything I had worked so hard to obtain. It was stupid and careless, and I hate myself for it.
Four years off the smack, but only seven days sober. I’m so fucking pathetic.
“I had a little accident,” I start, gesturing to the casted leg stretched out in front of me. “They sent me home with a bottle full of Oxycontin. I’m sure you can guess what happened next.”
Another grumble from the crowd, a few knowing nods. We’re all the same. Addicts at heart, liars by design. Addiction is a petulant child. Sometimes it naps. You think, this is great. I can do this. My resolve is strong; nothing can get in my way. But then it wakes up, screaming and crying in your face. Stomping its feet. Pay attention to me! Those are the times it takes real work to carry on. When that omniscient being is hanging on your every thought, clinging to your leg and refusing to let go. There’s not a single person in here who doesn’t understand. If given the chance, I guarantee at least half these folks would have done the same as me. It’s who we are and why I came. Weak.
“It’s been a struggle lately. When I first got clean, it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was because I had to.” Clearing my throat, I muster up the energy to lay my cards out on the table. I always told myself that if one good thing came from my fucked-up life, it would be that my story helps at least one person. For a while, that was Kat, but eventually, she carved out her own path and made her own way. She’s progressed far more than I ever have. I’m the brick that keeps her from soaring as high as she deserves. “My girlfriend died. She overdosed in our bed while I slept next to her. Shortly after that, I tried to score from an undercover cop and ended up in jail.
“I sat at the station thinking about my one phone call. Who’s it gonna be, right? My family abandoned me; my friends were just as fucked as I was. Desiree was gone. I had no one. Talk about a rock-bottom moment.
&n
bsp; “Detoxing one day in that cell felt like a lifetime. By day two, I was already praying for death. When they finally put me before the judge, I could barely stand as he gave me my sentence of six months in jail or court-ordered rehab. For a minute, I actually considered jail because I knew I’d be able to score inside, but I was given a gift. One that my own family never offered. Help. I took rehab and never looked back. Until recently.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, dropping my gaze to my lap. A week after Kat flushed the pills, I still yearn for the nothingness they bring. I didn’t feel like such a loser. I didn’t feel ugly or dumb or worthless. It was beautiful. I felt nothing at all.
“Thank you for your honesty, Chase,” the meeting host speaks up. “Does anyone have anything to add?”
One by one, people start telling their sad stories of depravity and redemption. They’re supposed to make me feel better. Siblings in solidarity and all that shit, but I’m in too much of a dark place to actively listen.
By the time the meeting’s over, my ass is fast asleep. I grab my crutches and catapult myself off the shitty metal chair and stomp some life back into my good foot before attempting to make my escape. “Chase, wait up!” I turn at the sound of Bob’s voice. A classic fisher, he’s at every meeting but never speaks. Just sits in the back and listens to our speeches day in and day out with no contribution of his own. “Let me help you up the stairs.”
“I got it, man.”
He waits behind me as I swing myself up carefully, step by step, until I’m able to hurl myself through the door. “It’s okay, you know,” he tells me, slipping a cigarette between his thin lips. A touch of gray weaves through his dark brown beard, making him look a lot older than he is. Matching salt and pepper hair sweeps across his forehead and hangs over the collar of his red and black flannel, giving him a sort of cracked-out lumberjack look.
“What is?”
“To escape once in a while.” I narrow my gaze at my acquaintance as he dips his head and lights the end of his smoke, his face glowing orange for the moment. “There’s no shame there.”
A familiar rumbling twists in my gut. “What are you getting at?”
He takes a drag and blows it into the air, watching with shifty eyes as people move past us and into their cars. “Nothin’ really. Don’t be so hard on yourself is all. Just take it one day at a time.”
He slips his hand into mine, then steps around me and wanders off. But not before leaving me with a consolation prize lodged in my palm.
Chapter 7
Kat
“So I went on another date with James last night. I really like this one, Kat. Like, so much.”
I smile at my assistant as she folds the clean white towels and stacks them in the linen closet at salon Petaloúda. Except for the blue eyes and the valley girl accent, she reminds me so much of myself. Another young girl trying to find her place in this world, holding on to the tiniest piece of affection she’s given. “But?”
A rose flush creeps across her cheeks, an exact match to her hair. “What makes you think there’s a ‘but’?” she asks with a shy smile.
“I’ve known you for two years, Lainie Andrews. There’s always a ‘but.’ Out with it.”
She sighs. “He doesn’t know if he wants kids.”
“Well, is that a deal breaker for you?”
Lainie shoves in the last towel and rests her ass against the radiator. “Like, I don’t know, ya know? I’m only twenty-four, so I’m still young, but like, that biological clock is ticking away. Do I wanna invest all this time into a guy, then decide down the line that it is a deal breaker?”
“Okay. Let’s not talk bio clocks when you’re four years younger than me, okay?” I laugh. I love Lainie. She’s a great assistant and a constant source of amusement for me.
“Well, that’s my point. I don’t wanna be standing here having this conversation at twenty-eight. I want to know where my life is headed by then. You and Chase were obviously on the same page with that, or you wouldn’t be marrying him, right?”
Her words hit me harder than intended. I know Chase wants to be a dad someday. We never actually had the talk, but whenever he’s around kids, he gets this faraway look in his eyes like he’s picturing our family. I hate to say it, but sometimes, I feel like I’m dead inside. I don’t get that maternal pull I’m supposed to have whenever I see a baby. I don’t ooh and ahh at all the cute little booties and hats. It’s just not who I am. I’m too fucked up to be responsible for another living thing. I also don’t want to pass on these shitty genetics. It wouldn’t be fair.
I just keep thinking something’s going to change. Like I’m going to wake up one day and need a baby more than anything, and Chase and I will finally start that family he’s been dreaming about ever since he popped this ring on my finger. There’s a real possibility that it may never happen, though.
“Oh, wow, that’s a face.” Lainie snorts, circling her pointer finger around my downturned pout. “What’s going on? Please don’t tell me you guys are having trouble. You guys are, like, the couple on which I base all my unrealistic relationship goals!”
I fall back into one of the swiveling nail station chairs and swivel side to side with my heel. “No, we’re not having trouble.” More like Chase is having trouble; I’m just the one having to witness it from the outside while he stews in silence. He’s been awful to live with these past couple of months. Moody, cynical, unbearable. The accident was minor, but it took him down such a bad road. “Things have just gotten a little . . . monotonous, I guess.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, her lips forming into a little O. “Ooooh. You guys haven’t been . . . uh . . .” Using her right hand, she fingers the hole formed by her left thumb and forefinger.
A peal of laughter erupts from my chest. She and I are two peas in a pod. Lewd, crude, and tattooed. “No, we are, but I can tell he’s somewhere else. He’s just going through the motions. The other day, he didn’t even come. Said he was tired. What the fuck is that?”
“Did you?”
“Meh.” I shrug.
Lainie turns back toward the closet with a grimace and closes it with a click. “I just wish I knew how to break thr—”
“Oh. Speak of the devil!” Lainie cranes her neck to peer behind me as the bell over the door rings through the empty salon.
I turn to follow her gaze in time to see Chase swagger through the door. “Look at you walkin’ on two legs!” The grin on his face is infectious. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it that I’m relieved to see him looking like himself again. “How long you gotta wear the boot for?” I ask with a quick kiss on his lips.
“Four weeks. And after that, I'm taking you dancing.” When he winks, so does the metal ring in his brow.
He pulls me off the chair and settles his hands on my hips. “You're in a good mood.”
“Yeah. I guess I am.” He leans in, brushing his lips against my neck. “And now I wanna take you home and make you in a good mood, too.”
Warmth spreads across my middle and trickles down south. I have no idea what brought on this sudden change, but I’ll take it. If it means I have him back. “Ooh, keep threatening.”
“You guys are totally too cute,” Lainie chimes in.
“Let me just finish up here, and I’ll see you at home.”
“Go ahead, Kat. I can lock up.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I got it.” She leans in close to my ear, cupping her hand around her lips. “Go drain that man like a dirty pool.”
“Will do!”
Leaving the salon in Lainie’s capable hands, Chase and I wander out into the warm California night. “I miss the stars,” he states, looking up at the sky. “I never paid much attention until I couldn’t see them anymore. I assumed they’d always be there, I guess.”
“You’re not making any sense, babe.”
When Chase lowers his gaze down to mine, the heat inside his light blue stare almost burns me to a pile of soot
on the sidewalk. “You’ve been so patient with me, Kat, and I don’t want to make another mistake. I don’t want to take you for granted then realize too late what I’ve lost.”
“Are you saying I’m like the stars?”
“No. You’re so much more than that. Stars are pretty and nice to look at, but they’re nothing special. You’re the center of my universe. The sun my world revolves around. I’m nothing without you.”
Tears well in my eyes as he drops his forehead to mine. “You’re never gonna lose me. No matter what happens, I’ll always be yours.”
“Promise?”
“Until death do us part, right?” I wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips to his chin. “Let’s go home, Chase.”
As usual, the pups greet us at the door, kicking up a furry frenzy. I shove them aside, flipping through the mail as Chase follows in after me. “Okay, okay, chill out!” Chase shouts, yanking the leash off the hook. “I’m gonna take them to the park for a bit.”
“Wait a sec,” I mumble, staring down at the envelope in my hand, but it’s not the Tanner Chase Jr. address that stops me in my tracks. It’s the stamp in the corner—The Law Offices of Berghammer and Stein, New York, NY—that makes my heart pick up speed. Letters from giant law firms are never a good thing. Especially ones that have a partner currently fucking my future mother-in-law.
I look up at Chase, hovering in the doorway. “You got a letter.” He reaches out and plucks it from my fingers. The leash clatters to the floor as he trudges down the hall, his medical boot scraping the hardwood.
“Come on, guys. I’ll take you out. Let’s give Daddy a minute.” When I yank open the back door, the dogs barrel through it, and I light up a cigarette. Chase hasn’t heard a word from his family in years. Not since his dad turned his back on him for having a drug problem. Such a piece of shit. Who hands a heroin addict ten grand? That’s like saying Here, go kill yourself, and make it snappy! He easily could have put that money toward a rehab program, but instead, he wrote him a check and sent him on his way. It breaks my heart to even think about it.
