by Erin Noelle
“I’m good, thanks, and I will pass on your regards to Noah. Hey, I heard what happened in Miami with Mason and I was just calling to get an update on him. “
“Oh, he is? Well, that’s good.”
“Yeah, I know he is.”
“Where?”
“Okay cool, sorry for calling so early and waking you up. I appreciate the info.”
“Yep, you too. Bye.”
She hung up the phone and I anxiously awaited the news that she had been informed of. “Well . . .”
“He’s in drug and alcohol rehab at a place called The Right Step here in Houston,” she said softly. “Cruz says he seems to be doing really well but has a few more weeks of staying there before he’s released.”
My brain started moving a thousand miles an hour at the news of where he was and what he was doing there. An internal battle that I had struggled to keep dormant for several weeks instantly became front and center.
“Scarlett, you said you just needed to know that he was okay,” Mina’s voice startled me. “Don’t make any brash decisions. It’s obvious that you still have feelings for him, but I don’t want to see you throw away anything that you and Ash have built for something that can never be.”
I smiled at her, hoping it didn’t appear as fake as it felt. “I know, Mina. I appreciate you calling Cruz to find out for me. I do feel much better now.”
We separated for our next classes a few minutes later and made plans to have dinner the following Friday. Throughout my English Lit class the following hour, all I could do was think about Mase in rehab. I had so many questions . . . so many things to say to him . . . Halfway through the lecture, I succumbed to the temptation and pulled out my phone and googled the facility. I found out the visiting hours as well as jotted down the address. I managed to wait until the class was over before running to my car and hitting the highway. The entire drive to the center I toyed with whether or not I should call Ash and tell him where I was going. I ultimately decided that it was one of those better to ask for forgiveness things than ask for permission, so I opted not to. A little less than an hour later, I pulled into one of the visitor parking spots and walked to the front door. My heart was pounding nervously inside my chest as I had no idea of what he would say when he saw me, but regardless of what his reaction would be, I had to see him again.
After I signed in with the office, I was led to a common room where I was asked to wait. It seemed like forever that I sat there, looking around at the other patients talking to their visitors, some conversations appeared to be happy and uplifting while others seemed tense and uneasy. Then from behind where I was sitting, the voice that I hadn’t heard in seventeen long days serenaded my ears with just one word.
“Angel.”
DEMONS—IMAGINE DRAGONS
WHEREVER YOU WILL GO—THE CALLING
MASON
I had been in rehab for just a couple of weeks, and surprisingly, it had been much better than I thought it would be. As I sat in my bed, I thought back to the day that I had begun that next chapter in my life—sobriety.
The night I had checked myself in, I was shown around the facility and then taken to the room that would be my only personal space for the foreseeable future. My room was small and simple, just enough room for a single bed, a small dresser, and a desk. Everything was white- the furniture, the linens, everything. The place was much nicer than I had originally expected, but it was still a rehab facility—still a place where a bunch of people who were fucked in the head were all corralled into one enclosed space. The following day, which was my first full day there, I was taken to meet my assigned therapist first thing in the morning. As I sat in the chair waiting for the poor soul who had to try and figure out how to control my demons, I found that I was more nervous than I thought I would be. Knowing that you are about to be judged on all of the awful decisions that you’ve made is quite unsettling; I didn’t want to be thought of as a bad person. I heard the door close behind me and the heels click on the floor as they approached the chair I was sitting in. You can only imagine my surprise when Heather, the woman from the plane, took a seat directly across from me dressed comfortably in jeans and a purple V-neck sweater.
“Mason?” She asked, appearing just as shocked as I was.
“Heather,” I replied with a grin. Seriously, what were the odds?
“Well, this is quite a surprise, I must admit,” she said, returning the smile. She held a file folder in her hand, but before opening it, she looked at me with her head cocked. “Before we get started, I’m going to give you the option if you’d like to be reassigned to a different counselor . . . seeing that we have met previously. It’s vital in your recovery that you feel one hundred percent comfortable in this process.”
I didn’t have to think about it even for a minute. I wasn’t thrilled to be in that place, but if I had to be, I might as well look at her pretty face every day. “I promise that I’m completely fine with you being my assigned counselor. Actually, I probably feel more at ease talking to you than some other stranger that’s gonna tell me how I’ve fucked up my life. You’ve already told me that it’s my fault I’m in Hell.”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice, “Mason, I never said it was your fault. I’m not about placing blame or saying who or what is responsible for the place you are at in your life. It’s my job to help you rectify the situation, and make sure that you don’t get back there again. But like I told you yesterday, you have to want to get better. If that’s not the case, then you are wasting everyone’s time.”
It was damn hard not to look down her sweater as she talked to me, but I refrained. For the first time that I can remember, I refrained. I figured I better take this shit seriously, otherwise I was never going to get a chance to play my music again. I had already lost Scarlett, so really all I had left was my music.
I looked into Heather’s eyes and for the first time, I admitted aloud, “I want out of this Hell. I want to know how to cope with stress and anxiety without the aid of a drink or a joint. I want to be able to play my music and find happiness again. I want to learn how to live without her.”
Fourteen days later, I was sitting in my bed with my guitar and my journal, furiously writing down the latest song that had taken my mind hostage, when one of the center’s administrators, stuck her head in my room and announced, “Hey superstar, you’ve got a visitor.”
Looking up at her, surprised, I asked, “Do you know who it is?”
“No, sorry, I didn’t ask. I’m just relaying the message. I didn’t even see them,” she replied before walking on down the hallway.
I was a bit perplexed because I wasn’t expecting anyone until the following weekend, when Marcus was supposed to stop by again. Since I had been admitted, I had had a total of three visitors, and to be quite honest, I really didn’t feel like seeing anyone else. Marcus had come because well, he’s my brother. No matter what happened between us, no matter what ugly things we said to each other, we were brothers forever. We always just wanted the best for each other. Cruz had come the first Sunday to bring me my guitar and to pass along well wishes from all the guys. I could tell that he was uncomfortable the entire time he was there, not that I could blame him much, so I told him that I greatly appreciated him coming to check on me and bringing me my instrument, but he really didn’t need to make the trip again. I’d keep him updated with my progress via texts. The third and final visitor I had was Smiley, Jag’s girlfriend and apparently, his assistant as well. If I used the word uncomfortable for Cruz’s demeanor while there, I would have to say that she was downright petrified. By the look on her face, one would’ve thought she was going to visit a prisoner on death row. It pissed me off that Jag had sent her, that he couldn’t be bothered with making the trip himself. I knew he had her come to make sure that I was doing what I was supposed to, but I was cordial to her and told her that she could report back that I was on my best behavior. I even apologized for my outburst toward her back in the
hospital, in addition to thanking her for finding me that night at the party. Who knows what would’ve happened had I lain there unconscious much longer than I did. By the end of the visit, she had relaxed some but I still didn’t think we were going to be BFFs any time soon.
Setting my guitar and notepad down on the sheets, I begrudgingly got up and headed to the activities room without even bothering to put any shoes on. Whoever was waiting for me was really interrupting my writing flow, and I certainly didn’t feel like entertaining anyone. As I turned the corner and walked through the doorway, my eyes scanned the room looking for a familiar face. As soon as I saw the long, straight chestnut hair attached to the body that was undoubtedly Scarlett’s, my heart stopped beating and I gasped for air. She had found me. Not only had she found me, but she had come to see me.
My first reaction was to run back to my room. I felt like I had made real progress in the couple of weeks that I had separated myself not only from the drinking and drugs, but from her. Heather had helped me realize that I had made Scarlett an addiction, just like the chemical dependencies, only she wasn’t physically harmful to my body. It wasn’t anything that Scarlett had done herself, it was the way I had deified her and put her on a pedestal. I knew that my love for her was true, but Heather had emphasized that because I didn’t value nor love myself, our relationship had been doomed from the beginning. I was still working through a lot of these ideas and had finally begun to accept that I was worthy of someone like Scarlett, but that was without her sitting just mere feet in front of me. I was scared to death that if I stared in her big brown eyes, if I inhaled her sweet, heavenly scent, or if I touched her silky, soft skin, that I would fall right back into that unhealthy obsession I had for her, similar to the temptation of someone sitting a bottle of whiskey directly in front of me. That was the thing I had discovered about rehab right off the bat. It wasn’t so hard to not drink or do drugs or any of the other bad shit while I was in there. It wasn’t in thrown in my face, I didn’t have to watch other people enjoy it while I abstained. The real test would be once I was back in the real world; the everyday life of a musician included witnessing many people partake in numerous gluttonous and addictive behaviors. I thought I had a couple more months of working on myself before faced with any of my vices; however, as I stood there struggling to breathe, the thing that I craved most in life had paid an early visit.
Vowing to not take the cowardly way out, to not run from my problems but to meet them head on, I walked over to where she was sitting, stopping just a couple of inches behind her chair. I wasn’t quite sure what to say to her. It was almost comical thinking about how natural talking to and flirting with girls had always come to me; I had never had to think about what I was going to say, I just said whatever the fuck I wanted to, and they all loved me just the same. However, in just two weeks’ time, Heather had managed to strip me of pretty much every ounce of arrogance that I once had in abundance, while simultaneously trying to build my self-respect and worth. The first part had happened quickly, the second was a definite work in progress. Gathering my courage, I inhaled a deep breath and said the one word that came to my mind.
“Angel,” I said as I exhaled.
SCARLETT
Frozen. I was frozen in my chair . . . afraid to turn around, afraid to look in those gray eyes that melt me every single time. The entire drive to the center I thought I had prepared myself for seeing him again, but the minute I heard his voice, I began having second thoughts about my unannounced appearance. Maybe I should’ve called first or maybe I should’ve just let things be, just knowing he was enrolled in a rehab program.
“Scarlett, turn around and look at me,” Mason’s gruff voice assaulted my ears.
Slowly, I stood up and turned around to look at where he was standing. My eyes instantly welled up with tears seeing him standing there barefoot in his baggy, tattered jeans and white undershirt. His dark brown hair was longer than I had ever seen it and it appeared he hadn’t shaved since he had been there. His face had much more color than when I had last seen him in Miami and I could tell that he had put on a few pounds as well.
He held his arms open at me and I quickly closed the small gap between us, flying into his body, nearly knocking him over. His arms wrapped snugly around me and I clung to him as if my next breath depended on it. We just stood there holding each other for I’m not sure how long, my face buried in his neck.
“Angel,” he repeated softly.
I pulled myself away from him so that my stare was locked on his grey, emotion-filled irises. “I hope it’s okay that I came,” I stammered.
“Of course it’s okay that you came. I’m just shocked to see you; I didn’t think you wanted to have anything else to do with me after . . .” his voice trailed off.
I grabbed his hand and walked us over to an empty sofa in the corner of the room. After we both sat down and made ourselves comfortable, not letting go of one another’s hand, I brought my gaze back to his. “I told you that I’d always be here for you. Even if we aren’t together in that sense, I will never abandon you, especially when you need support and a friend.”
A small smile replaced the obvious tension in his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I wasn’t quite sure what to say.”
“It’s okay, Mase. I understand. I’m just glad that you’re here and getting help.” I looked around the room curiously at the other people. “So what’s it like? What do you do all day here?”
He chuckled. “It’s actually not so bad. The first few days I was being my usual ass-ish self, but I’ve made a few friends now and it’s getting better. I have an amazing therapist, her name is Heather and she’s really helping me realize shit that I knew but didn’t think much about.”
I nodded and smiled brightly as he continued to talk about his previous two weeks, truly happy that he seemed to be making progress. After a little over two hours, one of the clinic’s staff members came in the room and announced that visiting hours were ending and that we needed to wrap it up. I was disappointed that I had to go, but I knew that I needed to get home anyhow. I hadn’t checked my phone the entire time I was there, and I was sure that Ash had most likely tried to contact me at some point.
We embraced each other tightly one last time before heading toward the door. As we got ready to go our separate ways, I wanted to ask if I could come back, but was scared he would say no. Almost as if he could read my thoughts, he asked, “Will you come back to see me again? I’d really like you to meet Heather. I’ve told her all about you.”
Nodding emphatically, I replied, “Absolutely, Mase. Just let me know when and I’ll be here.”
“Okay, I’ll text you later this week,” he said as he turned around and walked in the opposite direction. I stood there watching him, feeling some relief knowing that I’d get to see him again soon. Once he was out of sight, I headed out the main entrance and to my car. Plopping myself into the driver’s seat, I leaned my head on the steering wheel and wondered to myself what in the world I was going to tell Ash.
I GOT YOU—JACK JOHNSON
SECRET—MAROON FIVE
ASH
Life was good. I couldn’t have been happier. I was beginning the last semester of classes for my Master’s degree at St. Thomas, my family was more stable than it had ever been despite my parent’s pending divorce, and mine and Scarlett’s relationship couldn’t have been going any better. It was almost eerily good; if I hadn’t been such an optimist, I would’ve thought that I was being set up for major devastation.
I had promised myself to take things relatively slow with Scarlett, even though in my heart, I was ready to ask her to marry me at any time. I knew exactly what I wanted, and there was no doubt in my mind, she was it. However, I knew that she was still very young and inexperienced in relationships, so it was important that she felt comfortable and in control at all times. I wanted more than anything to move in with her, to spend most of our free time together, but I also recognized the importance of her
learning that she was capable of living on her own, both physically and emotionally. Her parents had not allowed her to be independent at any point in her life, and even when she first came to college, she was extremely dependent on Evie. Of course this was why when Evie died, tragically and unexpectedly, Scarlett didn’t know how to cope and she ran away. It was important to me that she learned, if ever anything happened to me or anyone else in her life that she cared about, that she would be okay on her own.
Once classes had gotten back in session in mid-January, Scarlett and I developed a routine that seemed to work perfect for both of us. Because we both had classes and work Monday through Thursday, we typically stayed at our own house those nights. We had tried studying together at the same house, and that always ended up with our books closed and our bodies naked. Unfortunately, neither of us were taking Anatomy and Physiology or Human Sexuality so we couldn’t very well pass it off for research. We would text and talk on the phone throughout the day, but it still gave us time to be our own people. However, when Fridays would roll around, she was mine for the weekend. I drank in every minute I spent with her during those three days, and I made sure she knew exactly how special she was to me and how important she was in my life.
We never discussed Mason again after I had brought her home from Miami. I had no idea where he was or what was going on with him, and as far as I knew, neither did Scarlett. I could only hope that I never had to hear his name or see his face again in my life, but I doubted I would be so lucky. I knew that Scarlett had feelings for him, possibly even loved him, but as long as I kept her away from him and his toxicity, I had faith that our connection and love would trump any of that. Most importantly, I just needed to keep him out of her life.
Smiling as I sealed the envelopes on the completed transfer applications for the same universities on the west coast that I had applied to for my doctorate, I reassured myself that I was doing the right thing for Scarlett. She really needed a fresh start, away from everything and everyone.
