Score

by Mj Williamz

  Chapter Twenty

  Ronda woke the following morning to the ringing of her telephone. She knew the caller by the ringtone. It was Gayla.

  “Hello?” Ronda said.

  “Hello.” The voice on the other end was cool and distant. “I figured that just because you and I are no longer an item, that didn’t mean I couldn’t still work for you. Do you agree with that?”

  Ronda’s heart leapt in her chest. She would still get to see Gayla. She was shaking she was so excited. She told herself to be cool.

  “I totally agree with that,” she said.

  “Good. I’ve set you up with two houses to show today. We’ll do them just like we used to. I’ll brief you then leave to go to the next house.”

  “That won’t work, Gayla. I’ll need you to stay and show the second story.”

  “How long are you going to need that knee brace?”

  “Not much longer. I’m sure we’ll get rid of it soon. I’m just not quite ready yet.”

  “Just like you’re not quite ready to get off the pain pills,” Gayla said.

  “Don’t start with me. You don’t know the pain I’m in.”

  “I don’t think you’re in pain. I think maybe it’s in your head. Or maybe you just like the way they make your feel.”

  “That’s enough of this conversation,” Ronda said. “Just tell me where to be and when.”

  Gayla gave Ronda the address of the first house.

  “I’ll see you there at one,” Gayla said.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Ronda hung up. She wanted to throw her phone across the room. Gayla was being such a bitch. Ronda wanted her back, but didn’t want her making all her crazy accusations. So, Ronda took pain pills. There was nothing wrong with that. They were prescribed by doctors, so they must be needed, right? Her doctors wouldn’t prescribe them if she didn’t need them.

  She hobbled to the bathroom without them and took her shower. She dried off and got back to her bedroom. Success, she thought. Baby steps. She dressed in a white suit with a light blue shirt. She looked appropriate for Houston in the summer.

  Driving felt weird to her, simply because she hadn’t done it in so long. But it was just like riding a bike and soon she felt at ease behind the wheel. She listened to Siri and arrived at the house even before Gayla. She had butterflies in her stomach. She was so nervous about seeing Gayla. It still hadn’t really soaked in that they were kaput.

  She sat in her car with the air conditioner running until she saw Gayla pull up. She got out of her car and went over to Gayla and had to fight the urge to kiss her, but Gayla was all business.

  “Let’s get inside so we can go over the finer details of this sale.”

  They went in and found the dining room. They leaned at the bar and went over what points of the house Ronda should emphasize and what points she should glaze over. She had it down just as the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll be here,” Gayla said. “Only if they need to go upstairs.”

  “I understand.” Ronda went to the door and opened it to find her potential buyers. She showed the house just as she and Gayla had discussed and ended up with the couple making an offer. One down, one to go.

  When the couple was gone, she went over to hug Gayla.

  “We did it,” she said.

  “It would probably be better if you didn’t hug me,” Gayla said.

  “Ah, come on. What’s the harm?”

  “I’d rather a drug addict not touch me. That’s all.”

  “Ouch,” Ronda said.

  “Well, I call a spade a spade.”

  “Okay. I don’t want to talk about this right now. Where’s the next house?”

  “Of course you don’t. You just let me know when you do.” She gave Ronda the next address and they took off.

  Ronda pulled in right before Gayla. She popped four Vicodin and took a swig of water. She was ready to deal with Gayla and her negative attitude.

  The second house went well, but the potential buyers left without making an offer. Ronda was bummed. Not that she needed a sale every time, though that would be wonderful, but she really thought she had the couple convinced.

  “I wonder what went wrong with that,” she said.

  “I don’t know. I thought they were for sure going to make an offer.”

  “Oh, well. So no drinks for you tonight?”

  “Not with you. We’re not together anymore, remember?”

  “We used to go out for drinks before we were an item. Remember that?” Ronda said.

  “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Ronda watched as Gayla drove off.

  “Shit,” she said. She was lonely and missed Gayla and the times they’d had together. She wanted Gayla back. She needed to figure out how to get her back.

  The rest of the week was more of the same. They sold three more houses. Ronda was feeling good. Gayla seemed to be happy with the work they were doing, but when it was time to wrap up the day, she grew aloof.

  Ronda was almost ready to beg for Gayla to come home by the time Thursday was over. But she didn’t. She knew what the answer would be and her pride had been damaged too much as it was.

  Friday at physical therapy, Ronda broached the subject of getting out of her knee brace.

  “I encourage it. You’ve had it on much longer than most people, but with all the pain you’ve been in, we’ve been hesitant to push you too hard. Your leg should be strong enough to support you now with no problem. But since you’ve been relying on the brace, be careful. Don’t do anything crazy.”

  “I’m mostly concerned with going up and down stairs.”

  “Your knee should support you with all the exercises we’ve been doing. But I would say be careful. Hold the handrail. Don’t put yourself in a position to get hurt.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “How’s your pain doing?”

  “It’s okay. I still hurt. But I have plenty of meds for now,” Ronda said.

  “How bad is the pain, though? We were thinking about doing an MRI to see if you did any damage to it in the Gulf.”

  “No. I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I mean, it hurts, but it always has.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “No?” Ronda asked. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re a fine specimen of physicality. You were in great shape when you got hurt and you’re doing your exercises and I see improvement every time I see you. So, the pain should be gone by now.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Ronda said. “It still hurts.”

  She left her therapy appointment determined to spend her weekend getting out of the brace. She got home and felt depressed. She missed having Gayla there with her, to talk to, to just hang with. She walked to the kitchen, took some pain pills, and poured herself a scotch. She walked to the living room and sat down. So far, so good without the brace.

  She wanted to call Gayla, but didn’t have a reason to. She just missed her. She wanted to be with her. It was more than just the sex, though that was great and she definitely missed that, but there was so much more. They were good friends and could talk about anything together.

  Ronda turned on the television and soon drifted off to a soccer game. She awoke in the middle of the night, alone and confused. She soon realized where she was and who wasn’t with her. Depressed, she made it to her room and passed out on her bed.

  She got up in the morning and made herself a bagel and coffee. She took her pain pills, four of them, and sat at the dining room table to read the paper. That’s when her phone rang. It was Gayla.

  “Hey,” Ronda said.

  “Hey yourself. How are you feeling?”

  “I feel great.”

  “I’m sure you do. When did you take your pain pills?”

  “I’m not going to discuss my pills with you,” Ronda said.

  “Of course not. I’m just calling to let you know our schedule for the w
eek.”

  “You’ve already got us set up?”

  “Yes. It’s easy to only do two a day, three days a week. Now, do you have a pen and paper?”

  “Got it. Shoot.”

  Gayla gave Ronda the details of the houses and then tried to hang up.

  “Can we do lunch today?” Ronda said.

  “No.”

  “Please? I promise to be sober. I miss you, Gayla.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you, too, Ronda, but you have a problem and I can’t sit by and let you do this to yourself. Especially because it could really hurt your career. I just can’t be party to that.”

  “I’m not going to hurt my career,” Ronda stated emphatically. “I’m under control. You need to get over it. Never mind. Forget I said anything about lunch.”

  “No. I’d like to see you. You know, I miss you, too, Ronda.”

  They decided where to meet and when. Ronda checked her watch. She had five hours. No worry. She soaked in the hot tub for a while, took her shower, got dressed and took some more pain pills. She still had an hour to go. She sat on the couch to watch some golf to pass the time.

  She woke to the sound of her phone ringing. It was Gayla.

  “Where are you?” She said.

  “I’m sorry. I fell asleep. I’ll be right there.”

  “No. Don’t bother. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

  The line went dead. Ronda stood holding her phone.

  “Shit!” she said. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  She got up and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

  How could she have fallen asleep like that? Golf was boring to watch, but still… She’d blown a chance to see Gayla. She was agitated. She checked her watch. She wasn’t supposed to take her pills for another two hours. But she needed something to calm her nerves. She took two of them and downed them with a swig of beer. That should help, she thought.

  She went back to the couch. Damn, she wanted to see Gayla. She called her back.

  “Hello?”

  “Look, I’m sorry I crashed. I was watching golf. What can I say? Can we do dinner?”

  “No. I think you probably passed out, and now I don’t want to see you again. So no dinner and I’ll see you Tuesday.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. You need to get it together, Ronda. You’ve already lost me. Do you want to lose your careers, too? I am watching you closely when you show houses. If I see any signs that you’re not on top of your game, I will quit working for you. I want you to know that.”

  “No. That’s not fair. Everyone makes mistakes. If I’m not on top of my game one day, it’s not fair that you’d quit.”

  “We’ll see, Ronda. That’s my intention anyway.”

  “I promise I won’t disappoint you, Gayla,” Ronda said.

  “I sure hope not.”

  The call ended and Ronda felt fear in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t lose Gayla forever. Not now that she’d found her. And if she lost her professionally, she’d really be screwed. She needed to keep things together. Maybe it was time to get off the pills. But could she?

  Ronda went into her office and searched the Internet for ways to make herself quit taking the Vicodin. Her greatest fear was that the pain would come back. She told herself if that happened, she could start taking them again, but only two at a time, every four to six hours as instructed. Not four at a time every three to four hours as she felt like it.

  One of the recommendations was to go to a doctor and get a substitute for the pills. That didn’t sound good to her. She didn’t want to trade one pill for another. Besides, she couldn’t let the doctors know she was getting prescriptions from both of them. They’d never trust her again. And if she came clean with the team doctor, she might not play again. So, no. Talking to a doctor was off the table. She was going to have to do this on her own.

  The first thing they recommended was to start weaning herself off the drugs. Not stopping all at once. She checked her bottles and decided she had enough to do this. She had two almost full bottles. She should be able to work herself off the Vicodin. The stress of not taking them anymore caused her to pour three in her hand, but she put them back in the bottle. No. She was going to take them as often as they were prescribed, not whenever she felt stressed. It wouldn’t be easy, but if this is what it took to get Gayla back, then this is what she was going to do.

  She already felt tense and uneasy. She had to find something to do. She went out to the hot tub and relaxed. It felt good to just let herself be at peace. When she got out of the tub, she checked her watch. Still not time for pills? Damn. This was going to be harder than she thought. She drove down to a local burger joint to try to take her mind off of it. She had a burger, fries and a couple of beers. It was good. It only took an hour. That was bad.

  With nothing else to do, she drove back to her house. It was still early but she thought about going to bed for lack of anything else to do at home. She put on a DVD and sat back with a beer to watch it. The movie ended and she decided to go to bed. At that point, she was allowed to take two pills, which she did. She went to bed.

  Sleep escaped Ronda, though. She tried to get comfortable, but couldn’t. She had her air conditioner set to sixty-eight, yet still she was burning up. She tossed and turned, and finally dozed about six in the morning.

  She got up around ten and felt like dogmeat. Her head hurt, her stomach was doing somersaults, and she was exhausted. She made herself breakfast and took two pills. They did nothing to relieve any of the symptoms. She was afraid her breakfast was not going to stay down. She curled up on her bed and willed herself to feel better. She finally fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Ronda woke to the late afternoon sun shining its rays through her curtains. She checked her watch. It was five thirty. Thank God she’d slept so much of the day away. She felt a little better, so she got up and started making dinner. The smell of it made her nauseous. She told herself to power through it, but it was no use. She hobbled to the bathroom and threw up.

  She threw the partially made meal away and made herself two slices of toast. She drank a big glass of water and took two more pills. Maybe stopping taking the pills wasn’t such a great idea, she thought. But then she thought of Gayla and knew it would be worth it.

  She still felt queasy, so didn’t trust her stomach to eat anything else. She made her way to the couch. She was proud of herself that she hadn’t used her brace so far that weekend. Her knee really was strong. If only it didn’t hurt. But then, everything hurt. She felt like her body was cramping up. She went back out to the hot tub to try to ease some of the muscle aches. It felt good, but her stomach was starting to act up again.

  “Shit,” she said. She’d finally accepted it was going to be an unpleasant process.

  She went back in, threw up again, and lay back down on the bed. Sleep escaped her again as she tossed and turned all night. She was exhausted when she finally fell asleep after looking at the clock one last time and seeing seven.

  Her alarm went off at ten. She had physical therapy at eleven. She felt like something the dog dragged in. She climbed into her truck and drove to the practice facilities.

  “Holy shit, Meyers. You look like crap. You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah,” Ronda lied. “I’ve just got a touch of some bug or something.”

  “We could have put this off another day.”

  “No. I want to stick with my schedule.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s get started. You just let me know if I’m pushing you too hard or if you need to quit.”

  “Okay.”

  “Man, you really look green around the gills,” her therapist said.

  “Yeah, well, if I’m going to get sick, I know where the bathroom is,” Ronda said.

  “Talk about dedication. I’m impressed.”

  “I’ve got to get stronger. Come on. Let’s do this.”

  The therapist went easier on Ronda than usual because she was weake
r than normal. They did their exercises and she sent Ronda on her way with some new home exercises to do.

  “Take care of yourself,” she said. “I’d like to see you feeling better by Friday.”

  Friday, Ronda thought. Would she feel better? How long would these withdrawals go on? And was she strong enough to withstand them? She drove home, ordered a pizza, and sat in front of the television. There was nothing good on. Agitated, she got up and paced the room. She needed her pills. She checked her watch. One hour until she got to take two. She would be able to take them as soon as she ate her pizza.

  The pizza arrived. She ate and took two pills. She shivered. Her whole body felt like one giant cramp. She went out to the hot tub again to try to relax some. It worked. Her muscles unwound while she soaked. But, just as the previous night, her stomach began to object to the pizza.

  “Why did I even try?” she said to herself. She climbed out of the tub and lost her lunch. She lay on her bed in a fetal position and fought the tears that threatened. She wondered briefly if she should call Gayla. Gayla would be able to come over and make her feel better. But no, Gayla couldn’t know she was withdrawing. But Ronda had serious doubts about keeping it together while showing houses the rest of the week. She could call Gayla and claim she had the flu, but she needed to keep busy. She couldn’t just sit around the house and feel like shit all day. It was a lesser of two evils. She would do her damnedest to show houses.

  The week did not go well for Ronda. She arrived at the first house the next day and Gayla was immediately concerned.

  “You look like shit. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve got a touch of the flu,” Ronda lied. “I should be fine. Now tell me about the buyers and about the house.”

  Gayla gave Ronda a brief overview, making sure, as usual, to point out the top selling points and what to skim past.

  Ronda nodded her understanding as she stood in the kitchen, concentrating on nothing but keeping her stomach down. It was no use.