Dirty Chaos

by L. A. Corvill

  “I hate to stop this, but I can’t make you late for your practice.” I gather enough strength to stop my assault on her lips. “I will see you tonight.” I don’t phrase it as a question, since I don’t want her to tell me no.

  “We shall see,” she says before she opens the door. She steps out and closes the door without a backward glance.

  I pull out of the driveway, making my way to the track. I dial Brian’s number.

  “Hey man, what’s up?” he answers.

  “Did you know that Nolan had been mixing medications? You were there when I gave him the pills, and that was weeks ago. I only gave him enough for seven days. Where did he get the rest?”

  “That’s what I have been asking myself. I was remembering that day you gave him the pills, and I have seen him take them more than seven times. Do you know anyone that could supply him more?” Seriously, he just asked that? I am new to this town, why would I know someone that does?

  “Why would I know? I don’t know anyone aside from you two and Lola.”

  “Since you are a biker, and bikers often get injured, people might have a supply to use on for an as-needed basis.” That assumption causes my temper to flare. I have to find out what is going on for Lola’s sake.

  “Nope. I was heading to the track, but I think I will swing by the hospital to talk to Nolan.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” Brian says before he hangs up the phone. There has to be more to this story. Who would have thought that I would forgo a practice for a girl? Pussy whipped.

  I drive toward the hospital. I need to know why Nolan tried to commit suicide, and Lola needs to know the truth. I meet Brian by the elevators. We both go up in silence. Once we get out of the elevator, the charge nurse gives us the regulations and procedures. After we sign and acknowledge the rules, we are buzzed into Nolan’s room.

  Opening the door, we see Nolan lying there watching SportsCenter. The room does look lifeless, worse than a regular hospital room. It’s utterly depressing. He looks decent for having just had his stomach pumped.

  “Hey guys,” he says, not bothering to stop watching TV.

  “How are you, man?” I ask. He seems relaxed for the situation he is in.

  “Good. What’s up? Are you here on behalf of Lola? I know that we are not friends so there’s no reason for you to be here,” he says, finally removing his eyes from the screen and looking at me.

  “Actually, yes and no. I want you to explain to me what possessed you to tell Lola that I supplied you with the Oxy?” I ask.

  “Was it supposed to be a secret? I didn’t think she would get mad.”

  “Really Nolan, don’t you know Lola? She goes postal when anyone hurts the people she loves. What happened in the fourth grade when Misty Patterson stole your favorite crayon box? She beat her up and got suspended for three days. Three days for a stupid crayon box,” Brian says. “You are doing this so she will concentrate on something else besides the real reason you are here. If she stops for a second, she will know that you played her, so spill.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Nolan responds.

  “Nolan, we know you have been getting more Oxy from someone else. Are you hooked, man?” Lola will be devastated if that’s the case, and it won’t go over well with me either, but if he has a drug problem, we need to fix it. If I can’t hurt Lola, her boys better not, because I will go insane on their asses.

  “What? A junkie? Fuck no,” he shoots back, taking a defensive tone.

  “Man, if you are we will help you. There are many programs out there, and I won’t let you lose your scholarship, or your life. You know if you need anything I’m here, and so is Lola. We got your back, Nolan. Always.” This is a serious bromance.

  “No, I’m not a junkie.”

  “Then you really tried to commit suicide?” Brian asks, not wanting to believe it. “Why?”

  “I didn’t want for that to happen either,” he says sadly.

  “Then why? Just fucking tell us!” Brian yells. I can tell Brian is losing his patience, and this could get very ugly, very quickly.

  “Look Nolan, just tell us so we can help you. My girl is dying of guilt and I can’t have her hurting that much right now.”

  “What? Lola? Why?”

  “Because she feels that she neglected your friendship to help me out. She already feels guilty for her grandmother’s death; she doesn’t need this on her shoulders too.” We all have to take responsibility for our actions; we can’t just pass them down to someone else just because we can’t deal.

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, shit. So are you ready to talk?” I ask. I see worry in his eyes. He is ready to step up and take it. “Whatever you say, we can keep it among us three. We will help you in whatever way we can. Right, Brian?”

  “Fuck, you know that goes without saying, Nolan. You are my brother. Lola and you are my family. We are the three fucking musketeers.” Brian looks worried. He knows something is wrong very wrong.

  Nolan gets up from the bed and starts pacing the room with his hands in his hair, fighting an internal battle with himself.

  “I can’t have Lola blame herself. She is too important in my life. She is a part of me, of us, but I don’t know what to say or where to start.”

  “I love her guys, she is it for me, and seeing her defeated is killing me, so how about you start from the beginning, before you became addicted.”

  “Fuckers, I already told you guys that I’m not a pill popping junkie.” Yeah, first step is denial. “When I was around six years old, I picked up my first football. When I got to hold it my hands, I felt like they were home. The smell of the pigskin became my new favorite smell, even better than the smell of my mother’s apple pie. Even at that young age, I knew that football was going to be my life. I begged my father to let me try out, and he was never prouder of me than that day when I asked. You see, he was an all-star quarterback when he was in high school and in college. I didn’t count on someone else being just as good. Hell, she was better than me. She threw that football like it was a part of her. I hated her raw talent.”

  “Lola.”

  “Yes.” He smiles. “I was determined to be quarterback, but I didn’t count on my father being even more determined than me. I think he was the one behind the decision to not let girls play football. He dreamt of me following in his footsteps. Me becoming this town’s hero was his ultimate goal. I felt bad for Lola; I knew she was hurt that she couldn’t make it. I did feel remorse until she found her passion in dance and motocross. Leave it to her not to settle on just one thing. When I took us to championships that first year I was ecstatic. The high I felt was unbelievable. But, with greatness comes expectations. I was expected to do better every year after that. The whole town’s pride was on my shoulders. I know you feel that at times Brian, that you can’t let anyone down, because when you put on your uniform, it carries all the hope of the town for that next win.” Where is he going with this?

  “What does that have to do with you ending up here?” The faster I get the information the faster I can be with Lola, and she can stop having doubts about our relationship.

  “Everything,” he says as he takes a seat on the couch facing both us. “The injury I suffered last month was a lot worse than I let on. The pains in my neck become unbearable, so I took some painkillers to help me through the day. I was in pain all day. I needed something strong. That’s when I went to you, Luka. Shit, I even got the doctor to give me steroid shots to keep the pain at bay.”

  “Why didn’t your parents say anything? Wait, the mood swings you were having, they were a side effect, right? Lola was worried about those,” Brian asks angrily. He has taken Nolan’s place pacing the floor. I am just waiting for the answers I came looking for. I pull out my phone and text Lola; I might be later than I thought.

  Luka: Hey baby, practice running late. I will be there later.

  “My parents have no say. Once I turned eighteen, my medical records became con
fidential even to my parents. I, like the dipshit that I am, thought I could make my own decisions.”

  “How is this affecting your health, Nolan? You have to be smart about this.” I know Brian wants the best for his friend, but Nolan is right: he can make his own decisions.

  “Yesterday when I got home from Lola’s, I received the news I was hoping would never come: the injury is permanent, and the limitations on my body are getting worse. I was upset. Everything that I have ever wanted was slipping through my fingers. So, I drank a few beers and took too many pills. I just wanted the pain to go away. I didn’t think I was going to end up like this.”

  I look at the time on my phone; she should be almost done with practice. She is probably in the shower because she never takes this long to answer back.

  Luka: Lola?

  I’ll give her a few more minutes.

  “What do you mean everything you have wanted is slipping away?”

  “Football. The coaches stated that my scholarship will be revoked due to injury.”

  “What do you mean, Nolan?” Brian asks. He needs to hear it out loud. Lola is going to freak when she finds out. All she ever talked about washer boys going pro, their ultimate dream.

  “I have acute spinal cord injury. I can’t play football ever again. The damage that I have now could be the tip of the iceberg. If I take one bad hit, I could end up paralyzed, or dead.”

  “Shit, Nol. Why didn’t you tell us? We would have helped you cope. You are more than a football player to us.” I can hear the emotion in Brian’s voice. I didn’t know that crashing dreams had a sound. It was devastating. I don’t know what I would do if I could never get on a bike again.

  “Because I knew you guys would worry and halt all your post-graduation plans. Brian, you would choose the same university as me and Lola would not have submitted her tape to the World Dance Academy. I would once again be the cause of her giving up something she loves, and I would not survive it this time.”

  “You guys know about the video and the audition?” I ask. Lola has been so worried about telling them about her decision to forgo college for the stage.

  “Seriously, Luka. We have known Lola since she was an hour old. There is nothing she could hide from us,” Brian says.

  “Actually, we just asked Dion. He’s always loved our pretty faces,” Nolan says. Now that I believe.

  “She has been so worried as to how and when to tell you. Man, I’m going to tell her not to worry about it too much.” I send her another text. It has been twenty minutes since I sent the last one, but still no response; maybe she is still in practice. I know how she can lose track of time when she’s dancing.

  “Yeah, she has always been afraid of what will happen to us if we all separated,” Brian says as he moves closer to Nolan. “Nolan, what are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know guys, maybe look at something else. I know Lola will Google everything I could do,” Nolan says, a smile gracing his face. Lola will have a full report in less than twenty-four hours.

  I check my phone again: she has not returned any of my texts. I get the feeling she is ignoring me after I told her I was not going anywhere.

  “Hey Brian, can I use your phone? Mine is dead and I need to make sure Lola is okay.” Taking his phone, I head out to the waiting area. I am going to give them a few minutes; they look like they need it.

  I scroll through his contacts for Lola’s number. I hear it ring and she picks up.

  “Hey, B.”

  “So, you decide to ignore me after all?” I say angrily.

  “Shit, Luka?”

  I’m not supposed to love him; the guilt and regret are chipping away a piece of my heart every time I think about Luka. I can’t change the past but I can control my future. My phone screen lights up, and his name appears. I turn it over hoping that it will lessen the urge I have to hear his voice. It hurts knowing that I will no longer be the one he holds, the one he kisses, the one he loves. My phone rings again and it makes my heart skip a beat. I feel my stomach in knots. I turn the phone over and Brian’s name appears on the screen.

  “Hey, B,” I say as cheerfully as I can, being careful not to expose how I’m truly feeling.

  “So, you decide to ignore me after all?” he says angrily.

  “Shit, Luka?” I’m so startled by the voice on the other end that my reaction is to end the call. Immediately, the phone rings again; this time he calls from his phone. I decline it. Shit! If I know him, he’s probably on his way here now. I run downstairs and jump into my Jeep. I usually don’t park in the garage, but right now I don’t want to face him. I can’t do this. I walk inside and see my dad in the living room.

  “Dad, if Luka comes by, can you just tell him I’m not home and you don’t know where I am?” I casually say, not wanting to worry him.

  “Is everything okay? Did he hurt you?” I see concern in his eyes.

  “No Dad, I just don’t want to see him today,” I turn and run upstairs, not wanting to be around when he shows up.

  I put my headphones on to distract myself by listening to music and masking out all sounds. I’m lying down, looking straight up at the ceiling, trying to avoid staring at myself in the mirror because it will only cause me to cry. I feel empty and I’m more than sure I look it too. I sit straight up when in my peripheral vision I see someone storm in.

  “What the hell are you doing here?!” I yell.

  “Lola, please, we need to talk,” Luka says and sits down in front of me.

  “I don’t want to talk to you. I know don’t want to see you. I don’t want to know you. I need you to leave, now,” I say sternly, avoiding eye contact.

  “Look at me and tell me that to my face.” He reaches out and puts his hand on my thigh.

  “Don’t fucking touch me!” I throw his hand off. “I hate that I ever knew you. I hate that you robbed me of my time with my abuelita. I hate that I was with you and not the boys. I. Hate. You.” I can feel the anger seething through my teeth. It took everything I had to muster up the ability to tell him that to his face. I see sadness in his eyes as he stands and looks down at me. He doesn’t say a word, he just walks out.

  I lie back down. I might have said those words out of anger, but right now in the moment, I feel the truth behind them. I feel as if all my blood is spilling out of me. My heart is so wounded I don’t think it’s repairable. It’s unbearable; each breath feels sharper and each heartbeat seems to magnify the tightness in my chest. I can’t hold it in and my tears begin to spill.

  I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want to take back my words. I want him to come back, but it’s too late. A part of me feels like this is for the best, because it’s like a sin to love him, and if I would have continued it only would’ve brought me more pain and heartache. My words were harsh, and I resented them as soon as they escaped my mouth, but it was the only way I was going to make him leave. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.

  I need to shower. I don’t want my parents to see me this way. The puffiness of my eyes and my tear streaked face are sure to cause questions, questions that I don’t want to answer, questions that I don’t have answers to, and questions that might lead to more questions. I just don’t want to deal with all of this right now.

  I get out of the shower and rush to my room. I’m avoiding see my parents, just until I can get my emotions under control, I don’t want to talk to my mother and break down crying. I need to hold this in just until I can grasp that he will no longer be in my life. Nor will I be the one he loves, or holds, or confides in. Thinking of him with someone else makes me cry even more. Now I’m an emotional wreck and I can’t control it. I lie in my bed crying until I exhaust myself. My swollen eyes are so heavy I can’t keep them open.

  I must have fallen asleep because when I look at the time it’s two a.m. I reach for my phone and see three missed calls and several text messages from Brian.

  Brian: Hey, come by the hospital. We want to talk to you.

&n
bsp; Brian: Lo, are you coming?

  Brian: Come on, answer me :(

  Brian: Lo?

  Brain: Hello, you there?

  Brian: I give up. I’ll see you tomorrow.

  I try to go back to sleep but so many things are running through my mind: Luka, auditions, Brian, Nolan, school. I feel as if everything is consuming my thoughts. I need to try to put all other thoughts aside and focus on my dance. Auditions are in a couple of days, and I haven’t been practicing as much I want to. I need to try to clear my mind. Tomorrow I have school and dance practice, and I have to get to the hospital to see Nolan.

  “School time,” my dad says as he peeks in my room. It feels like I just closed my eyes and opened them. I’m so exhausted and don’t know how I am going to function. I struggle to get myself out of bed and walk to the bathroom with my eyes closed, I can feel them burning. I step in the shower and run the hot water on my body. It soothes my achy body and heavy eyes. I quickly change and go downstairs.

  “Mija, I went into your room last night, and you were sound asleep. You still look tired, are you ok?” my mother asks, setting a cup of coffee on the counter.

  “Yes mom, I’m fine. I guess everything is just hitting me all at once and it’s draining. I miss Abuelita, and I couldn’t help but cry. I must have fallen asleep. I hope I didn’t worry you,” I say, trying to give her a legitimate answer for my appearance.

  “I’m not going to lie, I thought you and Luka had a disagreement because he came in and left about twenty minutes later without a goodbye, then your dad tells me you didn’t want to see him but I let him in. Sorry, I didn’t know,” she says apologetically.

  “Don’t worry Mom, Luka and I are fine. I just needed to focus on my dance routine and didn’t want to be bothered.” She looks at me and smiles.