Addiction

by Angela McPherson

  I also gathered enough energy to call my mom. We needed each other, and I was tired of bottling up so much resentment. Forgiveness being the key to move on, right?

  "Hey, Mom."

  "Elle, honey, I'm so glad you called."

  "Yeah. Um, how are you?" I felt like shit for not knowing.

  "Good. I'm going to group sessions. They're helping."

  "That's great."

  Awkward silence.

  "I'm sorry," we said at the same time, killing the weirdness.

  My grip tightened, knuckles turning white around the hard plastic. "I'm sorry I haven't called. I just–"

  "I understand. Listen, I've made so many mistakes and some are too late to make right, but I'd like a second chance with you." It'd been a while since I'd cried and for the first time in months, I smiled. My shoulders relaxed. I loved Mom and I didn't want us to fight anymore. Learning to wake up without a load of remorse hanging over my head was difficult. Time always ran out, I understood that too well.

  "I'd really like that, Mom."

  After our initial phone call, Mom called to check on me all the time. She was also a big Team Tristan fan.

  "Mom, we're… taking a break." I refused to believe there wasn't any hope of Tristan and I finding our way back to one another.

  "Don't be upset with what I'm about to say."

  Lord knew what she was going to dump on me. I held my breath. "Okay."

  "All right. Honey, you only live once. You know more than most how precious every single day is. I support you, whatever you decide to do, but, I don't want you looking back one day with regret."

  "I know. I'm, well, I'm just… okay." I didn't have a good enough explanation.

  In the past, Mom was super great with layering on the guilt, but she didn't try pushing me either way. A nice and welcomed modification in our relationship.

  As for school, I changed my major from psychology to journalism. Next year I'd have a few more classes to take in order to graduate on time, but it was the right choice.

  Mr. Edwards was impressed. "Journalism suits you, Richards."

  "Uh, thanks, sir."

  "So, spring training is well underway and I need you to get a story for me. This is last minute. The sports article we were going with was a flop.

  "Anyway, Daniels–he was injured last season–I want you to get the scoop. See if he's up to par."

  This was some sort of twisted karma thing. Gritting my teeth, I smiled. Then took a deep breath. "Yes, sir. When's the deadline?"

  Mr. Edwards' fury eyebrows came together in the middle creating a really long fuzzy worm. He shouldn't frown so much. "Did you not hear a word I said? Last minute, as in I needed this yesterday."

  Uh, right. "Okay, good deal. I'll get right on it." My heart jumped with excitement, and then tripled with unease, followed by a heatwave rolling across my face. Um, yeah, I missed him.

  "What are you still standing around for, Richards?" He shooed me with his chubby hands. "Get to moving."

  "Yes, sir."

  Outside, the cool breeze slapped my hair across my face. Flowers were blooming everywhere, but the freaking wind sucked ass. Spring was my favorite season, and I couldn't believe in a few days the semester would be over.

  So much had happened. I laughed, remembering I'd hoped the year would be drama free. So much for that.

  Speaking of drama, thanks to my journalism teacher, I was about to be tossed back into the eye of the storm. It wasn't that I hadn't seen Tristan. I just hadn't been close to him since he left my house, pissed and hurt.

  Before I jumped back on that bandwagon, I needed a cup of coffee, something strong. A new coffee shop opened not too far off campus. The coffee was so much better than where I worked. I headed over on foot, leaving my car on campus.

  If my memory served right, Tristan would be finishing up practice in an hour, giving me plenty of time to think up a few decent questions for the paper. I never thought our first conversation after our huge blowout would be like this… during an interview. Maybe this would make things easier for us? Us…

  Five minutes later, I walked into Coffee Lovers' Paradise. Fresh ground beans, mocha, and a mix of other goodness permeated the air. Standing behind a guy in line, contemplating a new flavor, I heard my name. I twisted back around. My jaw dropped.

  "Oh, wow. Eric, hi."

  He grinned, blues eyes sparkling. "Hey. How've you been?"

  "Okay, and you?"

  His lips spread into a wide smile, the same one that used to make my stomach dance. Times had changed and the only thing I felt was genuine happiness for him as a friend…and a little guilt for forgetting about him so quickly.

  "Ma'am, you're up," the barista said.

  "Oh, sorry." I shuffled ahead and ordered. "I'll take a venti white chocolate mocha with extra whip."

  "Got it."

  "Oh, wait. With two extra shots."

  He cocked a brow, nothing new. People usually didn't add so many shots of espresso to their coffee. "You sure?"

  "Yes." I grabbed a table and waited for my order. Eric joined me.

  "Hey, I heard about your sister. I'm sorry." Eric gave me a sympathetic, tightlipped grin. It'd taken a while to not be flooded with remorse when someone mentioned Heather's name. Talking with Mom had helped and now, though the pain was there, it wasn't as close to the surface as it once was.

  "Thanks. I'm doing okay." Eric's eyes danced around the room. I changed the subject. "So, how's it going? Heard you've been killing it on the field."

  And he was back.

  "Yeah, we've had a good season so far. Pitching arm is holding strong."

  "That's great. Anything else new happening?"

  His cheeks turned pink. "Yeah, I'm seeing someone."

  I smiled, glad he'd met someone. "That's great! I'm so happy for you."

  "Thanks, Elle. Means a lot."

  "Double shot, white chocolate mocha," hollered the barista.

  "That's me. It was so good seeing you." I stood, ready to turn, and then changed my mind. "Hey, I just want you to know that I'm sorry for how things ended with us. I never meant to hurt you and, well, I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."

  He shook his head, laughing. "Elle, we weren't meant to be. I get that, but thanks." He pointed to the counter. "Better grab your cup before it gets cold."

  "Yeah, thanks, again."

  Leaving the coffee shop, I felt a little lighter, freer that I'd been able to clear the air between me and Eric. However, when he'd said meant to be I'd thought about Tristan. Maybe?

  I made a mental list of questions to ask Tristan once I got back to campus. By the time I'd walked clear across to the field house, I'd emptied my coffee. I glanced down at my watch. The players would be out in a few minutes, so I strolled to the front exit and waited.

  I'd be completely lying if I'd said I wasn't nervous. My insides jumped around as if they were playing a game of hot potato in my gut. Crap, thinking of potatoes made my stomach growl. Maybe the excitement was due to me being hungry? At that point, I had no idea. I was also oblivious to the fact that Tristan was standing in front of me, calling my name. Shit.

  "Oh, hey. Sorry. I was thinking of food." Good one, Elle.

  The corner of his mouth turned up. "Did you need something?"

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Oh, um, yeah. I–"

  "Tristan," a girl said, interrupting us.

  "Hey, Kim." I watched the two of them. He gave her his usual flirty grin, which was returned with a flirty laugh by Kim.

  "So, hey. I can't wait for tonight."

  And I couldn't unhear that. My stomach stopped growling and sunk low, but instead of wallowing, I kept my chin raised and smiled. Maybe they were only friends.

  "Yeah, um, me, too. I'm making a special dessert for us." He winked.

  So much for just friends. I admit being part of their exchange hurt, but if he was happy…

  "Great. See you then." Kim waved and bobbed away.

&nbs
p; Clearing his throat, Tristan directed his attention back to me. "So, you were saying?"

  "I was given an assignment in journalism. It's a last minute piece we're doing for the paper. You're our lead sports story."

  "Oh, so an interview, then?"

  "Yeah, but if you're busy I can email you my questions. I don't want to keep you from anything."

  My heart and breath stilled.

  He opened his mouth and then closed it. I waited patiently in the cold wind for him to answer. "Would you mind? You remember my email, right?"

  "Yeah. I'll just, um, sure. Could you have it back to me tonight or in the morning by latest?" I had a few days at best. Not sure why I lied.

  "I'll get them back as fast as possible." He returned a stiff smile.

  "I–I guess I better get going so I can get that sent to you."

  "All right."

  "Have fun on your, um, have fun." My face heated. I waved and turned, more than ready to blot out of the parking lot.

  "Spud," he called.

  My insides were then over-cooked mashed potatoes. The grin across my face was as big as the moon, and then I turned to face him. I wasn't able to contain the feelings. "Yeah," my voice squeaked.

  "It was good to see you." He smiled but the expression in his warm eyes didn't match. I covered the disappointment crushing that second of elation with an even brighter smile. If he was happy with Kim, I didn't want to mess that up. I'd already hurt him enough.

  "You too, Tristan. See ya around."

  Without another word, I walked away.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Today was the last of semester finals. Alyssa and I were both packing, when she decided to give me her opinion. "You look like shit."

  I rolled my eyes. "I stayed up all night studying for my English exam." I yawned. "I'm fine. Hey, are you heading back home or staying here after your trip with Bret?"

  Tisha interrupted, popping her head in our shared room. "Hey, girls. I wasn't sure if I'd get to see y'all before I left for the summer, so I wanted to say bye now." Tisha and her parents were heading out of town in the next day or two. Since breaking up with her boyfriend, she couldn't wait. Bret, being the overprotective big brother, came close to kicking his ass.

  "Aww, I'll miss you. We'll see ya in a few months, though."

  Tisha sniffled, holding back tears. I glanced away, fidgeting with my fingers.

  "I decided I'm not going to live here next year."

  My head shot up.

  "What," Alyssa and I protested.

  "That's crazy. Why on earth would you do that?"

  "I'm hardly here, anyway. I usually end up staying at my parents' place since they're never home." She frowned. Hopefully nothing else made her decide to move out.

  "It's about freaking time you moved," Ginger intruded, stepping inside our room. Gotta love living with a bunch of females.

  "What the hell?" Alyssa snapped.

  "Like she said, she's never here. Might as well give the room up to someone who'll use it."

  "Thanks, Ginger, you're awesome." Tisha glared over her shoulder.

  "This has all been fun, but I've got to get going." I turned to Ginger. "Stay safe and be sure to buy plenty of condoms."

  Ginger huffed and walked out the door. I looked over at Tisha, who smiled back at me. "Tisha, have fun over the summer and don't be a stranger. I expect to see you here at least once a week."

  "Thanks, you, too. And I will."

  I smiled back at her and turned to Alyssa, packing her suitcase. Bret had invited her to a long weekend trip, just the two of them.

  "Call me when you and Bret get back. I'll be at Mom's."

  Alyssa averted her eyes and focused on packing. My stomach knotted, worry creeping in.

  "Oh," Tisha said, smiling. "You're meeting Tristan, too. Right?"

  "Um, no? I'm driving home to spend time with my mom alone." I swallowed the lump of rocks in my throat. "I'm not sure if he's going back for the summer or not."

  "Oh–" Tisha frowned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I guess I just…"

  I held my hand up, stopping her rambling. "It's okay. I'm fine."

  Tisha nodded. "If you say so. I've got to get going, but I'll see y'all after 'while."

  "See ya," Alyssa finished for us both, and Tisha headed out. As a rule, Alyssa and I didn't talk about Tristan. But watching her shifting her eyes to me and then away, I knew she had something to say.

  "Spit it out." I folded my arms over my chest.

  "Nothing. Just, I worry about you, and I'll be gone with Bret–" She blew out a long swoosh of air. "If you need me, call."

  "I will. Promise."

  Alyssa walked me out when I finished packing. Mom and I were meeting at Heather's gravestone. I didn't want to be late.

  "Okay, have fun. Be careful." I winked.

  "You, too," Alyssa said seriously. I liked carefree Alyssa better, but I understood her concern and loved her for it. Alyssa hugged me goodbye and I was on my way.

  The drive took forever, but I managed to roll into town before hitting early evening rush-hour. Sweet reward. The graveyard wasn't far from our house and I pulled up a few minutes later. Mom's car was already there.

  The air was hot and dry and luckily the wind wasn't bad, just enough of a breeze to keep you semi-cool. I took my time, strolling through the maze of headstones. Birds chirped in trees above my head. As I continued, I found Mom standing in front of a gray marbled headstone.

  Her brown hair had begun to gray. Wrinkles around her eyes hinted her age, but she was beautiful. She bent over and placed a dozen sunflowers on the fresh green grass.

  My legs carried me over until I stood beside her. Mom reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together and then squeezed. We remained silent for several minutes, tears filling my eyes. As if sensing them, Mom pulled me to her, closing her arms around me.

  "I'm so sorry, Mom," I cried into her shoulder, holding onto the future while saying goodbye to the past.

  "Don't be sorry, honey."

  I hadn't cried over Heather in months, but this felt different, a sense of closure. "I miss her." I backed away, wiping my eyes. "I miss you, too."

  "Me too."

  She smiled. "Listen, I've got a meeting to get to." I frowned, kind of wanting to talk with her. Besides, she hadn't mentioned a meeting the other day.

  "Okay, did you want me to go with you?"

  She shook her head and smiled. Not sure why, but I got a weird feeling that she was keeping something from me? Maybe she'd met someone?

  "Not this time. Go to the house, and I'll see you in a bit."

  "If you're sure?"

  "Yes, now let's get going. I don't want to be late."

  We stood in front of my car. "You look good, sweetheart." Mom pulled me in for another hug and squeezed me tight. "I've missed you so much." My shirt felt damp and my eyes watered up again, but Mom pushed away. "I've got to get. I'll see you later."

  "Okay."

  Once parked in my driveway, I sat in my car, looking at the house. I hadn't stepped foot inside since Christmas. Spring break I'd spent my time working doubles at the coffee shop. Mom was relentless in her attempts to get me home. Really, though, I just couldn't.

  Mom looked good, healthy. When we talked, she'd mentioned she'd been going to counseling. She was making progress. I was so proud of her, but couldn't help the tiny bit of guilt for staying away as long as I had. I was ready for our second chance. With a deep breath, I got out of my car.

  Inside, I went straight to my room. On my bed, I found a letter addressed to me. Odd, I thought, but opened the envelope anyway. Pulling out the single sheet paper, I unfolded the letter and gasped.

  Elle,

  If you're reading this, well, then I'm sorry. I don't know how life got so off track. I wished I could be more like you. You always seemed to have your shit together (stop rolling your eyes). Nothing ever got to you, or so I thought.

  When Mom and Dad first separated, I remember you told
me not to worry. You promised to take care of me. You did, and for that, I'm grateful.

  I read every email you wrote. I even wrote back, but didn't actually send them (obviously). I never doubted how much you cared. I just couldn't find a way out of the darkness that always surrounded me.

  Every day I felt like I was gasping for air. Suffocating. When I looked at life, the world seemed gray, no color, just dreary and full of pain. You couldn't bring me out of it… Mom couldn't, either. She did try, Elle. You may not know this, but Mom emailed me, too. I don't know how she got the address (probably from her creepy mom skills. Seriously, sometimes she freaked me out with what she actually knew).

  Anyway, I don't want you to blame her. She needs you just as much as you need her. And you can't blame yourself for the choices I made. You can't change me, but I love you for trying, for wanting me to be better.

  On toTristan. He is so in love with you. I know you and I know how stubborn your ass is. So, I'm thinking you're probably still pissed that he never told you about our phone calls or him taking me to rehab. I made him promise not to say anything.

  I know this is hard for you to get, but I felt unworthy. I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted you and Mom to see that I could get better on my own. I gave sobriety a shot. I failed. I'm sorry.

  Ya know, I think some people are meant to fly and some are meant to watch. You're meant to fly, Elle. And I'll be watching. No more pain. No more gray, just peace.

  I'll love you forever,

  Heather

  PS: Don't give up on Tristan. You two deserve a happy ending.

  By the end, I could hardly see through my shower of tears. I felt like she was dying all over again, but in a way, I had a sense of understanding her better. I didn't agree with her reasoning, but at least I could stop wondering why. I wiped under my eyes and stood up, ready to call him.

  But he was there, standing with his hands in his front pocket, watching me.

  "Hey," he said, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and went on. "I knocked, but no one answered, so I came in. Your mom gave me a key." He slowly wandered over.