by Rebecca Shea
“You’re welcome,” she says, quietly leaving me alone. I sit on the couch and stare at the packed suitcase and backpack and second-guess my trip to Europe.
A million memories and a million more things I should have said, or apologized for, flash through my head as I drive back to Landon and Reagan’s house. I should never have stopped by Matt’s unannounced, nor do I have any right to be hurt or angry at seeing Melissa at his house—but I am. My heart aches.
I pull into Reagan and Landon’s long, paved driveway and immediately see my mom’s car. I had planned to go talk to her in the morning on my way to Raleigh. Pulling the car into the garage, I kill the engine and spend a moment collecting myself. My cheeks are spotted red from crying and there is no hiding the dark circles that have taken up permanent residence under my eyes. “Fuck it,” I mumble and step down from the SUV.
Reagan meets me at the door with a sympathetic look on her face. “I tried to get her to leave,” she says, and I shake my head.
“Thanks. I may as well get this over with tonight too.”
“How’d it go with Matt?” If my splotchy face and red eyes aren’t indication enough, I politely answer.
“Not good,” I mumble and step out of my sandals. “Did you know he’s seeing Melissa?” I ask her. “A little heads up might have been nice.” I realize my tone is sharp and accusing.
“I don’t think they’re seeing each other. I know they’ve been hiking once in a while, but Lindsay, don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Well, she just showed up at his house, in a dress, at nine o’clock in the evening. Hardly hiking attire,” I say as I walk past her and into the living room where my mom sits on a couch talking to Landon. I feel guilty for snapping at Reagan.
My mother gasps when she sees me, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, then her heart. She jumps up from the couch and pulls me to her. “Lindsay,” she says her voice breaking.
“Hi, Mom.”
“What is going on? Are you sick? You’re so skinny. Oh my god,” she gasps again and holds on to my upper arms, standing back to inspect me further.
“I was going to stop by tomorrow, Mom.”
“Tomorrow? I wasn’t going to wait until tomorrow to see you. You’ve been avoiding my calls, and when Reagan told me Landon flew to Phoenix, I knew something was going on.” I glance at Reagan and narrow my eyes at her. She mouths “sorry” to me and scurries away into the kitchen. I give Landon the “don’t you dare leave” look and he sits back down in his chair as I take a seat next to my mom on the couch.
“What is going on, Lindsay?” my mom asks in a hushed tone.
“I came home to get help,” I say quietly. I’ve learned that admitting my problems to my family and close friends, whom you’re supposed to love and trust the most, is harder than admitting them to a complete stranger. That’s because those that love you will be the ones let down by your mistakes—and the most likely to judge you.
“Help for what?”
“I have a lot going on, Mom.”
“Well, I know. You’re always so busy. I hardly even saw you when you were here…”
“No, Mom. I have a lot of issues I need to seek help for. Anorexia being one of them and addiction to prescription pills being another.” My admission is quiet, shameful. She inhales sharply.
“Lindsay,” she cries.
“I’ve been on a collision course for a long time. In college, I was anorexic and used recreational drugs to numb the emotional pain I dealt with from my childhood.”
“That’s my fault,” she musters as she wipes tears from her eyes. “I blame myself for everything you two went through.” I look at Landon, who sits watching us, his chin resting on his steepled fingers. He remains silent but focused while I continue my story.
“I was able to get it together in college. I stopped using, started eating better, and was feeling really good, but I never really dealt with the issues from my past. I buried them. I never learned how to cope when things got hard.” I pause, looking at Landon, who still remains silent. “I dove into my internship and career, and then Matt I got together, and everything felt perfect. I honestly thought I couldn’t be any happier.”
“What happened, Lindsay?” She reaches out and grabs my hand. Reagan comes into the room quietly and sits on the arm of the chair that Landon is sitting in. She wraps her arm around him and he pulls her into him.
“Life happened. The car accident with Reagan happened and I still blame myself for that. I was reckless. I knew better than to drive in a storm like that.”
“It’s not your fault,” Reagan says quietly. “I never blamed you for that—ever. You need to stop blaming yourself.”
“That’s easier said than done.” I take a deep breath. “They gave me OxyContin for the pain when I was in the hospital—and it was heaven in a little prescription bottle. I didn’t feel anything. It didn’t just numb the physical pain from the wreck, but it numbed the hurt inside too.” My mom pulls tissues from her purse and wipes her eyes and nose.
“I weaned myself off those, though, but there was still something inside of me—something that felt empty. I don’t know what it was—I’m still not sure,” I admit. “But when Jack offered me that job in Phoenix, something clicked. Something came alive inside of me, a hunger that I used to feel, and I knew I needed to go for it. All the while, another piece of me, the piece that needed Matt, died. I realized very quickly, when I got to Phoenix, that it was Matt that was important to me, not the job.”
“Oh, Lindsay.” My mom squeezes my hand.
“I still had some Oxy left from the accident and I just started taking it to numb myself. Numb myself for hurting Matt. Numb myself from the pressures of the job in Phoenix. Numb the voices that were always telling me I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough, skinny enough. Then, when those pills were gone, I turned to an illegal street dealer to get more.” Embarrassment washes over me at the admission I’d become one of those people who is so desperate for a high, I’d turned to the streets to get my fix.
Reagan wipes tears from her eyes and Landon sits, his jaw muscles flexing. “There was nothing any of you could have done,” I say. I know Landon is placing blame on himself. He always has. He was always my protector, but this time, it’s up to me to save myself. “So I used the pills and stopped eating. My demons from college paid me another visit and, instead of shutting the door on them, I invited them in.”
We all sit quietly, no one saying anything. “So tomorrow, I’m checking myself into rehab and finally getting the help I should have gotten a long time ago,” I say quietly. “I need to get my life back, at least as much of it as I can.”
I wake up with a raging headache, a combination of not having Oxy for the last four days and crying so much. The pressure in my head is killing me and my hands shake violently as I try to splash water on my face. I open the medicine cabinet to look for aspirin and it’s been cleaned out. I pull my hair into a ponytail and walk to the kitchen. Reagan stands at the large island with a mug of coffee, staring out onto the back patio.
“Got any more coffee?” I ask, startling her. “Sorry.” I laugh quietly.
“Yeah, let me get you a mug. Still take it with light cream?”
“I do.”
“You’re up early,” she says while pulling down a large mug from the cupboard. I watch her steady hand as she fills the mug with steaming coffee from the coffee pot. She sets the creamer and a spoon in front of me along with the mug.
“I couldn’t sleep. Bad headache and nerves, I guess. Speaking of headaches, do you have any aspirin?” I blow the steam from the top of the mug and press the mug to my lips.
“I do, but I called the rehab yesterday for any instructions and they don’t want you to have anything. Not even aspirin.” I nod my head and pray that the coffee helps with the pounding going on inside my head. Reagan keeps looking behind me, out onto the patio, and I finally turn around to see what she’s looking at. Landon and Matt sit outside at a patio t
able, drinking coffee.
“I thought he was leaving this morning?” I say, turning back to Reagan.
“He is. We didn’t expect him to come by, but he said he needed to talk to Landon about something.”
“What do you think it’s about?” I ask curiously. They both sit outside, leaning forward, deep in conversation, serious expressions on their faces.
Reagan shrugs. “I think it’s work related.” I stand momentarily watching them talk to each other with concerned looks on their faces.
“I’m going to take this to my room and make sure I have everything packed,” I tell her, raising the mug of coffee. After last night and already having a shaky morning, I’m not in the right state of mind to talk to Matt. “I’ll be ready in about thirty minutes.” I walk through the large open living room, careful not to spill the mug of coffee. Back in my room, I open the wood shutters and sit on the chaise lounge, looking out into the open backyard. I take a couple of minutes to enjoy the coffee and close my eyes, willing the headache to go away before I start packing. I grab clean clothes and head into the bathroom for a quick shower.
I wash myself quickly and get changed into a pair of faded, torn-up jeans and a t-shirt that used to be tight on me, which now hangs off my shoulders. I tuck my wavy hair under an old Atlanta Braves baseball hat that used to be Matt’s, and put on some silver hoop earrings. “You can do this, Lindsay,” I whisper to myself.
I shove the last stack of clothes into my suitcase and zip it up. I take a look around the room and close the door behind me. I pull the suitcase down the hall and leave it next to the front door. It’s almost seven and we have a two-hour drive, so I go in search of Reagan, who has offered to drive me. I’m glad it’s her and not Landon. I’m not sure I could say goodbye to him. I see her on the patio with Landon and Matt. I hesitate before opening the door to the patio and sticking my head out.
“I’m all set,” I say quietly, and all three of them turn to look at me. Reagan jumps up from her seat and heads towards me, so I step back inside and open the door for her. “Let me just get my purse and we’ll head out.”
I pull myself back inside the house and close the door. I walk toward the front door and wait for Reagan, when Landon and Matt come walking over. Matt has his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans and his head down. He stands back further into the living room while Landon walks over and pulls me into a hug, his embrace so tight I can hardly breathe. In this moment, I become that scared little girl that he used to hold when our world was crumbling around us and I break down and sob. I cry because I’m scared—I’m scared I won’t be strong enough. “Don’t cry, Linds.” Landon tries to comfort me.
“I’m so scared.” My voice shakes as I tell him.
“The hardest part is over,” he says softly. I pull out of his embrace and wipe the tears from under my eyes. I notice Matt has stepped back even further, allowing Landon and me some privacy. “I’ll take your suitcase to the car. Call when you get there and every chance you can, okay?”
“Okay,” I promise, nodding. Reagan comes down the hall with her purse in hand.
“Ready?”
“Yeah,” I sigh as she opens the front door and walks out. I glance over to Matt, whose head is still down and his hands are still stuffed in his pockets. “Have a great trip, Matt,” I say quietly and step through the front door and onto the steps. I’m about halfway down the steps when I hear his somber voice.
“Linds?” I stop and turn around, meeting his dark brown eyes. He looks at his old hat that I’m wearing, then his eyes meet mine.
“Yeah?”
“Good luck.” I can feel myself on the verge of another round of tears, so I nod my head and whisper a quiet “Thanks” before turning around and taking the rest of the steps down to the waiting SUV. Landon closes the car door and leans in the window.
“I mean it, Lindsay. Call.”
“I will, I promise.” Reagan puts the car in drive and we take off for Raleigh.
Reagan drops me off and we say our goodbyes quickly to keep from crying. We were both awkwardly silent on the two-hour drive with our emotions simmering at the surface. As a doctor, she’s familiar with the rehabilitation process and told me what I could expect. She was spot on. The first hour was check-in and paperwork followed by a luggage inspection, and then a thorough physical and mental evaluation. To say I’m already exhausted and it’s not even noon would be an understatement.
I am finally assigned a room and follow the counselor down a long hallway to the last door on the left to meet my roommate, Samantha. She’s young, nineteen, and from a small town just outside of Wilmington. She’s pretty in a unique, plain kind of way, with long, jet-black hair and gray eyes. She’s quiet and keeps her nose tucked into a book while I unpack.
There is a regimented schedule here that we must follow and it’s now lunchtime. Samantha walks me to the cafeteria, where there is a limited variety of food choices, but since I’m not only being treated for drug addiction, I have a special diet prescribed by the nutritionist. A tray labeled with my name sits waiting for me, taking the guessing out of what I would have chosen. We sit at a small, round table and eat quietly when Samantha finally opens up.
“I’ve seen you on TV,” she says quietly, her gray eyes scanning the cafeteria to see if anyone is watching us. I turn to see what or who she’s looking at. No one is paying us any attention. In fact, I think there are less than twenty of us total in this rehab center. I smile at her and nod my head.
“Seems like a lifetime ago.”
“You’re not on TV anymore?”
I shake my head from side to side. “Not anymore.”
“You were really good. I almost didn’t recognize you, though, when you walked in. You’ve gotten really skinny.”
“Part of the reason why I’m here,” I admit. “That, and pills.”
She smiles a crooked little smile. “I did whatever I could get my hands on. Pills, booze, smack…” My eyes widen in disbelief. “For a preacher’s daughter, I didn’t say no to anything.” I remain quiet and eat slowly. I decide to change the subject. I’m not sure I want to learn everything about Samantha on my first day here.
“So what do you read? I saw your nose stuck in that book all morning while I was unpacking.”
“I love romance.” she smiles. “I love when the girl gets the guy or the guy gets the girl. I want that someday. Someone who will fight for me.” I swallow hard when I think of Matt and how I actually had that, but I was selfish and let it go.
“Get yourself better, Samantha, and you will. You’ll find someone deserving of you,” I tell her. Her eyes shift downward and she picks at the sandwich on her tray. We finish our lunch in silence before heading back to our room, where I lie down for a nap. Samantha heads off to the lounge, where there is a television and most of the residents gather after lunch. I’m not in the mood to mingle or be social today.
Rehab is exactly what Reagan said it would be. We now have a group therapy session, where I get to introduce myself as the new girl and tell everyone my “story.” I’m surprised at how comfortable I am admitting my demons to a group of strangers. However, they are here for many of the same reasons, so I know there is no judgment. They watch me intently, everyone sympathetic to my story. Samantha is in my group and sits quietly, her fingers playing with the seam of her dark blue jeans. There are eight people in my group session. All of us are battling drug or alcohol addiction and a few of us, me included, are the lucky ones with an extra little something trying to bring us down—for me, it’s anorexia; for another girl, it’s OCD.
I watch each person speak as they tell their story. And while our stories are not the same, and we’re so different due to our ages, our genders, our looks, our nationalities, or our socioeconomic statuses, we’re all the same—we all have struggles, we all want to get better. Our session ends and we’re free for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. Dinner, social time, and phone calls are on the agenda for the even
ing. Since it’s also my first day, I have to check in with the staff physician before dinner.
Samantha sits on her bed, reading, and occasionally glances at me while I finish unpacking. I make a mental note to ask her more about her books, to see if I can get her talking. The rest of the day passes quickly. I actually do a decent job of finishing my dinner of chicken breast, steamed vegetables, fresh fruit, yogurt, and a dinner roll. I’m so uncomfortably full it’s hard to walk. I visit the staff physician, who takes my vitals and monitors me for signs of withdrawal. Most of that happened back at the hospital, which I’m thankful for. He notes my shaky hands and starts me on vitamins to replace what I’ve been depriving my body of. All in all, it is an uneventful first day.
I shower and get ready for bed before I find the small, private rooms to make phone calls. We were allowed to bring cellphones and laptops to check email, but they strongly encourage us to focus on rehabilitating ourselves, so I gladly handed mine over. I walk into the small room that has a chair and a side table with the phone sitting on it. I close the glass door behind me. Everything here is semi-private; there are lots of glass doors and cameras everywhere. I pick up the receiver and dial Landon’s cell phone. Three rings later, he finally picks up.
“Hi, Lan,” I say with a smile.
“Linds, how are you?”
Just the sound of his voice is immediately comforting. “I’m good. Just spent most of the day getting settled, eating, and had my first group therapy session.”
“How was that?”
“Actually, pretty good,” I respond.
“And did you eat?”
“I did. Enough to make you proud.” I laugh quietly.
“Atta girl. I was actually planning to come up Friday night to visit you if that’s okay with you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“I wanted to give you a few days to settle in. Of course, Mom wants to come with me if that’s okay.”
