by Ashley Rose
I walk around slowly, taking everything in, my legs still wobbly and weak, my mind still a bit foggy having come straight here from the social detox center which is an affiliate of the rehab facility. Two weeks in fucking detox. That's pretty average for a long-term cocaine addict. But it was two of the longest weeks of my life. It feels like it's been two years. God, I'm so exhausted.
Ava continues standing in the doorway and I give her another nervous smile before dropping my small bag onto the bed which is pushed up against the wall, my other suitcases already stored neatly underneath. I guess my parents had them sent over.
I sit slowly, nervously, on the edge of the bed. Scooting back a bit, I feel the mattress is a bit lumpy beneath me. I shift a little.
So this is what a college dorm room must've been like...
Not that I would know.
Maybe someday. If things go well...
"Umm, you have a roommate," Ava's voice in the doorway shakes me from my thoughts. "Cara...she's obviously not here right now."
Upon her gesture, I glance over at the bed opposite mine. Same drab off-white blanket as the one I'm sitting on. One lonely pillow draped in a baby blue pillow case is poised atop the neatly-made bed, a plush stuffed animal resting below it. I nod slowly.
"So I guess I'll just let you get settled. Don't hesitate to come find me if you need anything. And dinner starts at six."
"Thanks," I reply flatly, wringing my hands and when I glance up to the doorway she's already gone.
I push out a deep sigh, tipping back onto the bed exhaustedly, laying sideways across it, my head almost touching the wall as my legs dangle off the other side. My eyes trail slowly down my arm, the burn in my stomach intensifying at the sight of the scars in the crook of my elbow, reminders of the life I'm supposed to leave behind now.
My gaze wanders further to the wristbands perched just atop my hand, boasting my name and patient status from my visit to the detox center, a small bruise decorating the thin skin on the back of my hand where my IV had been administered. The past and the present, spelled out right there in such close proximity on my body. But I know the journey will be much longer than that space between my elbow and wrist.
Yes, that was only the beginning.
I don't know how long I lay here, staring up blankly, watching the ceiling fan spin slowly in the center of the room. My mother always told me that was how I used to fall asleep as a baby, watching the ceiling fan, being hypnotized by its motion, tricked right into a deep slumber. My eyes dart away from it suddenly at the thought.
"Hi!" a cheerful voice greets me and I snap my head up unexpectedly. "You must be Leala!" She bounds into the room. God, how can she be so fucking chipper? I sit up slowly, faking a smile and I wonder if she can tell. "I'm Cara!"
I take her extended hand into mine weakly. "Hey."
"How long have you been here?" She turns abruptly and frolics over to her bed, throwing herself down upon it with a bounce, pushing up on her elbows to look at me expectantly.
I look around the room clueless for a clock or something when I realize I don't even know what fucking time it is, but I finally just sigh dejectedly.
"I don't know." My voice is thick from lack of use. I've barely spoken any full sentences since I arrived, still slightly overwhelmed by it all.
She just giggles a little. "I've been waiting for new roommate. My old one just moved over to Sober Living. It's just not the same being in this room all by myself."
"How long have you been here?" I pull my legs up onto the bed, crossing them, crossing my arms over my chest. I don't mean for my body language to be so shielding but I'm still a bit unsure of everything around me.
"Two months."
I lift my brows in surprise. "Wow. Well, I'm fresh off the truck from detox."
"Ohh, your best days are still yet to come then." She laughs and I sense the sarcasm in her statement. I smile a little.
"It's cool here, right? I mean...you like it okay?" I ask nervously, stumbling over my words a bit.
"Yeah, it's a good place. You kinda go on autopilot after a while. There's plenty of stuff to keep you busy, and everyone is nice. I mean, we all have our days, you know? You'll wanna run away screaming eventually, especially during the first month. But just...stick it out. I can honestly say I'm glad I did."
I nod at her response, sliding my legs back out slowly and scooting off the edge of the bed until my feet touch the ground. I turn back toward the bed and bend down, reaching for a suitcase to begin unpacking when I hear her voice again.
"So what are you here for...if you don't mind me asking?"
My hand freezes in its path and I stand up straight again, looking at the floor for a moment. I twist my mouth as my head searches for the words, a way to explain myself, but then I realize that it's a simple answer.
"Coke."
I lift my gaze to hers and stand for a moment on edge, expecting some sort of response, shock or pity, but her eyes are just looking at mine with understanding, and damn that's better than any reply I was expecting.
"What about you?" I ask quietly.
She reaches over to her nightstand for a book. "Alcohol," she replies just as quickly as I did, as if that's the standard way to answer. Just get it out on the table quickly, just say it and be done with it. It's almost comforting.
I nod slowly, bending down again as I grab the handle of one of the suitcases under my bed and tug it out slowly. It takes about three good pulls to get it out, just because I'm still so weak, but I want to get settled and feel like I belong here as soon as I can. I think it'll make my stay easier. At least I hope it will.
I survey the room and see that two short dressers are pushed together side by side against the wall, one covered with small figurines and picture frames that I assume are Cara's, the other barren on top.
"Can I use these?" I gesture to the dresser drawers and she looks up from her book.
"Oh yeah, that side is all yours." She waves my words away easily with her hand and dives back into her reading.
I start to arrange my clothes into the drawers slowly, hands and arms still trembling and weak, and I can feel her watching me, but I try not to let it bother me. I'm a stranger here; she's just sizing me up. It's human nature.
Once all of my things are unpacked from both small suitcases I slide them back under the bed and peer over my shoulder at my dresser again, giving it a once-over, wishing I had at least one picture or something to put on top to make it not look so lonely. To make it not painfully resemble how I'm feeling.
Empty...bare...abandoned.
I turn back to my bed with a sigh and draw the zipper open on my small bag that I brought from the detox center, some toiletries and a few articles of clothing in it. I sigh when I see the navy blue of his sweatshirt peeking out from underneath some T-shirts and a pair of my jeans. His sweatshirt. I had taken it from his house that morning he finally gave in and brought me here, telling him I was cold in the October chill, but really just silently wanting a piece of him to cling to on days like this.
I take the fabric between my fingers, using my free hand to press the other items down into the bag as I gently tug it free from beneath them. I press the soft material to my face and inhale deeply, blinking back hot tears as his scent invades my senses. It smells like weed and cigarettes and like the damp forest after a rainy day. It smells heavenly, like fresh-scented pine and honey. His aroma is like a drug to me, and I can't get enough of it. Holy fucking God I miss him.
I pull it carefully over my head, letting it envelop me, letting him envelop me. Hugging my arms around my body for a moment, I tuck my chin to my chest and close my eyes, trying to picture his face, his body...his eyes...his hands, that lazy smile, his laugh...his arms around me...shit.
I feel a tear slip down my cheek and I wipe at my face hastily, embarrassed, thankful that my back is to Cara because I don't need her thinking her new roommate is a sad sack of homesick or something. I quickly busy myself with unpa
cking again, pushing the thought of Lex from my mind, but still allowing the softness of his sweatshirt and the occasional wave of his smell comfort me.
I'm here, it whispers. But I know he's not. He's not here. I have to be strong enough to do this without him.
23
Lex hasn't exactly been forthcoming with everything going on lately. He hasn't mentioned the withdrawal or rehab to any of the boys. And he has especially left out the fact that it was the very reason why he had been sneaking off during business days and putting runners on for full shifts when normally he tries to handle the majority of his deals himself.
No, he hasn't mentioned any of this, or the fact that he's been picking up two cases of beer a week on average for his consumption and smoking himself to sleep every night. Sometimes the best way to not think about something is to think of other things. Or think of nothing at all.
But that day...God, that day had changed everything for him. Pulling up in front of the clinic, and then just...driving away. Having to deal with the guilt of just leaving. Feeling like he had abandoned the one person who would never do that to him. Everything is different now in his mind.
He's on his sixth beer, his daily average as of late, when he hears a knock at the door. He swings his long legs off of the couch with a grunt and paces heavily to the entryway, turning the deadbolt and reaching for the handle.
"Sup, Lex?" It's Seth, and by his posture and the weak tremble in his voice alone, Lex can tell that he's not there by choice. He figures the boys finally smartened up and came to the conclusion that something is definitely wrong with him and he needs a good talking-to, drew straws and Seth was the winner. Or loser, perhaps.
Lex responds with a grunt and an indistinguishable mutter and retreats back to the couch. He reaches for his beer on the coffee table in front of him as he takes a seat again, the other five empty bottles standing in a line like soldiers, saluting their drunken general. He eyes them menacingly before taking a long sip from his current bottle, eyes fixed on the TV.
"So, uh...what's up, man?" Seth speaks slowly, carefully, as he crosses the room, eyeing him and the fleet of empty bottles decorating his table. Lex drinks, but not like this.
Lex leans forward, supporting his elbows on his knees and pauses before answering, licking his lips and narrowing his eyes, but not turning them from the screen, seemingly engrossed in the most current episode of The Walking Dead. He feels just like one of those zombies right now. Soulless. He's takes another drag of his joint and the smoke is a deep, dark grey color. Intoxicating. Choking. He can feel it pull his very life away.
"What do you mean?" he finally responds.
Seth sighs. "Well, you've kinda been M.I.A. lately, bro. Me and the guys just wanna make sure your shit's all in line, you know...make sure your head's on straight."
"I'm fine," he insists flatly, rolling his eyes and Seth gives him a pointed look which he quickly returns.
Seth sinks down into the recliner, cowering a bit under his intense gaze, and he sighs in relief when Lex turns back to the TV. He musters his courage again.
"Dude, you're laying up in your house getting drunk in the middle of the fucking week. And you've been cutting out on us all day during business shit, being a lazy fuck— "
"Do you wanna get your fucking mouth smacked, Seth?" Lex growls, snapping his gaze back over to him.
"I'm just saying, if you don't have your shit together, you need to get it together," Seth lectures half-heartedly, not out of lack of concern, but mostly because no one tells Lex how shit is.
Lex rolls his eyes and takes another drink as Seth continues.
"This is business we're running here, man. You better not be dickin' around on us. Your head isn't the only one on the chopping block."
"Okay, I get it! Fuck!" Lex snaps, furrowing his brow and waving his hand to dismiss Seth's words as he leans back against the couch in a slouched position.
Seth hesitates for a moment. "Lex, you know if something is going on you need to say something. We're bros, you know that. If some fucked up shit is going down—"
"I don't wanna fucking talk about it, okay Dr. Phil? Shit." Lex downs the rest of his beer.
"So something is going on?" Seth pries cautiously, and Lex groans loud as he sits up and slams the bottle down onto the glass-top table. Seth winces, expecting the thin sheet of glass to shatter from the force of the blow but it doesn't. Lex's words cut harshly into the room.
"Would you cut that shit out? Stop your psychobabble bullshit before I whip your fucking ass, and I mean that shit."
Awkward silence fills the space between them and Seth shifts uncomfortably as he attempts to change the subject. "So, what's Leala up to?"
Lex sighs, scowling as he shakes his head and reaches up to scratch the back of his neck in an effort to mask his discomfort. "I told you I don't wanna fucking talk about it."
"Oh, you got drama with your girl? That bitch giving you trouble?" he quips with a grin which soon disappears as it becomes obvious that Lex isn't amused.
"Shut your fucking mouth. You don't know shit," he mutters, shifting uncomfortably and being careful not to let his eyes meet Seth's, afraid that he'll be able to read his anxiety like a book.
"You guys get in a fight again or some shit?" Seth chuckles, not noticing Lex's tense posture at the initial mention of the subject.
He snaps. "Do you not know the meaning of the fucking words shut and up? Goddamn!"
Seth freezes, eyes wide and confusion painting his face. He studies Lex's anxious behavior, watching him as he exhales noisily and hangs his head, holding it in his hands between his knees, worry eating him up inside and crawling all over him.
"Dude...what's got you so fucked up, man?" he asks quietly, putting his guard up for another one of Lex's explosive replies, but he waits, and nothing happens.
Lex finally sits back up a little and props his elbows on his knees, biting at his lips as he stares blankly at the TV. Seth is suddenly ripped from his thoughts as Lex speaks lowly, not turning his focus from straight forward, lost in some sort of haze.
"Leala's in rehab."
Seth sucks in a breath, his eyes widening. "What!? Are you fucking—"
"Yeah, I'm serious. She tried to get clean at her place and it just got bad," Lex cuts him off, his voice low and solemn as he drops his focus to the floor again.
"One less customer..." Seth mutters in a non-committal tone, shrugging a bit as he sinks back against the chair with a sigh.
"How can you say some shit like that?" Lex growls, and Seth's hazel eyes widen as he begins to see the first signs of emotion in Lex's face since he walked in the door.
"Woah. Shit, Lex. I didn't know it was like that. I mean, it's not a big deal, right? Damn, I know she's your girl, but I mean it's nothing serious, right? You just fuck her," he offers, trying to make less of Lex's reaction, but his voice becomes weary when there is no change in Lex's posture or expression. "Right?"
But he still doesn't reply.
"Lex...that's all it is man, right?"
Lex shifts his eyes back to the TV but doesn't really look at it, just gives a blank stare before responding flatly. "She's my girl, Seth. You know that."
"Yeah but shit, you're laying up in this house like someone died," he argues in confusion and Lex hangs his head again. A wave of uncertainty rises in Seth as he continues worriedly, drawing what he hopes will be a false conclusion. "You're not...you're not thinking about getting clean, are you? Not because of her? C'mon, don't tell me you're thinking about getting clean, man."
"Of course I'm fucking not. It's just...damn Seth, you weren't there. Shit got bad, it got really fucking bad. I had to take her there and just...leave her." He shakes his head in frustration, running a hand over his head as he sits back with a sigh.
"Dude, why are you stressing about this shit? Damn man, you sound like you're fucking in love with this girl or something." Seth laughs nervously.
Lex's eyes go wide. "What? No!" He twists his
face up in shock, but immediately looks away from Seth's prying gaze, his voice trailing as he continues. "No! Hell no." He brings his eyes to Seth's again with faked confidence, shrugging and shaking his head nonchalantly, trying to let that four-letter word roll off his back.
Love.
"Seriously, she's just Leala, you know. She's just a fucking girl."
"A girl who sat on your face," Seth chuckles, trying to lighten the mood and prevent another outburst, which unfortunately doesn't work out accordingly as Lex snaps again.
"I told you not to mention that shit ever again!"
"Well, you better not be in love with her," Seth replies cautiously. "'Cause the last thing any of us needs it you running around with your head all fucked up over a girl and some shit like rehab. That kinda shit fucks with business, Lex. And business comes first."
"I fucking know, okay? Don't preach some 'bros over hoes' shit to me." He huffs an irritated sigh.
"Well that's exactly what I'm talking about," Seth answers matter-of-factly.
Lex waits a beat before responding weakly. "I know."
24
Mexico, Five Years Ago...
The sun was burning so hot on my face I was just about to be forced into turning over. I had laid out on the beach in Cali every single day of the summer thus far, but something about the Mexico sun...damn, it's hot. I felt warm and drained, though I'd hardly done a thing to begin the day.
That was the beauty of summer though. Hot and cloudless, lazy hazy days, bonfires by the beach, sandwiches, iced tea, loud music, warm water. Your hair gets lighter and your skin gets darker. Your nights turn into mornings. Life just gets better. Summer, after all, is a time when wonderful things can happen to quiet people. For those few months, you’re not required to be who everyone thinks you are, and that cut-grass smell in the air and the chance to dive into the deep end of a pool gives you a courage you don’t have the rest of the year. You can be grateful and easy, with no eyes on you, and no past. Summer just opens the door and lets you out.
