Jersey Girl

by J A Heron

  Benny confiscated my phone before I left and told me she’d keep it switched off until I return home.

  I remember the sad, but terse farewell before I left. Benny had tears in her eyes, and mine welled up as she hugged and kissed me. Audrey just looked concerned and wished me well. I wanted to ask Raven so many questions, all about Connor, but I resisted the temptation, understanding that he probably didn’t know that much about what had happened. I’m sure Benny will fill him in on the previous day’s events. Now, I must concentrate on me, get better, and make sure Audrey’s money doesn’t go to waste.

  Only a couple of people are concerned about me enough to form an intervention, and I’m thankful. Will I heal? Will I sober up? Only time will tell. I have a lot of demons to destroy before I’m able to get my life back on track; I just have to be patient.

  I pull out clothes from the bag Benny packed for me; jeans t-shirts, yoga bottoms, trainers, slippers, pyjamas… the woman thought of everything. I take a toiletries bag into the en-suite. I put my shower gel by the shower, and take out a new toothbrush and toothpaste, and place them on the unit by the sink. I catch myself in the mirror, and I’m horrified. My hair is tied up in a bun, but my eyes are what stand out the most. The worst of it is, I’ve never seen my complexion so dull, nor my eyes so sunken, with dark circles.

  Even when I was living on the streets, I’m sure I never looked this bad, but I suppose I wasn’t drinking as heavily back then.

  I go back into the bedroom and finish unpacking. The two items I find next make my heart soar. She’s not only packed me her old iPod complete with charger, but she’s also packed the one thing I can never be without. That wooden box. That necklace. I open the lid to find the pearls shining up at me. A note is tucked inside, and when I slowly unfold the piece of paper, I see it’s from Benny.

  Don’t worry, Kat.

  I’ll be here when you get back, and we can begin our lives over.

  Good things will happen, bestie. Just wait and see.

  All my love, always.

  Merry Christmas.

  Benny XOXO

  I clutch the pearls and note close to my chest, my heart so full of love it beats a strong staccato. The words she intended to touch me do just that. A single tear slips down my cheek, caused by the loving words of a woman so wonderful, I feel blessed to have her in my life. She knows me so well. She knows I can’t go far without the only thing I have left of my parents.

  It’s time for me to fight, mainly for myself, but also for the people who mean the most to me; all those who have shown me unconditional love. Benny, Audrey, and even Grumpy. It’s my duty to make it up to him too. I just hope he understands, should he give me a chance to explain my actions.

  I will never take anyone for granted, steal, or break anyone’s trust ever again. If I do, I will find myself in this place again, and although the surroundings are stunning, I fear turbulent times lie ahead.

  I contemplate putting my pyjamas on and curling up in the deluxe bed. Lord knows, I feel like I could sleep for a thousand years. I figure I’m best to make an appearance and take Claudia’s advice about looking around this massive place. I pull up my ankle socks and adjust my brown leather boots. I hope the garden is open to the residents and I’ll be able to take a closer look. Even though the heating is roaring away and it’s comfortably warm inside the house, I grab a sweatshirt for walking around outside.

  I’m just about to leave the room when I hear a small tap on the door. I open, and standing before me is the girl with blonde hair tied up in bunches.

  “Hi. Can I help you?” I don’t know what else to say. When she lifts her head, incredibly sad eyes look back at me. “My name’s Kat,” I say, reaching out my hand in greeting.

  “Hi. I’m Jess,” she says, placing her hand in mine. We shake, and now we’re introduced, the uncomfortable silence between us is painful.

  “Fancy showing me around?” I ask. I’ve already had the grand tour from Claudia, but I feel I need a friend, and Jess looks like she could use one too.

  “Sure.”

  “Lead the way.” I gesture her to lead on. I follow slightly behind her as she shows me different rooms.

  We reach the dining hall, and I’m pleased to see they serve drinks all the time. No alcohol, of course, but the endless supply of tea, coffee, flavoured waters, and other soft drinks makes me happy.

  “Fancy a drink?” Jess offers.

  “Yeah, sure. Coffee, thanks.”

  I get the feeling Jess likes to keep herself busy, and as she fixes our drinks, I watch as she unconsciously fiddles with her hair. Her fingers gently twist the loose strands that frame her face.

  She hands me my drink then sits down facing me. She really is pretty. Hair so blonde it’s almost white, and her pale skin glows. She looks healthy, but I can’t help but wonder what her addiction could be. Drugs? Booze? Both? Who knows? I’m curious, but too afraid to ask, scared to stick my nose in where it’s not wanted. I have a memory of the crime drama I watched a few weeks ago, where one inmate in a prison asked another inmate what he was in for. The reply was murder, and the inquisitive chap found himself shanked with a homemade sharp weapon. It was gruesome, but so thrilling, and I loved it. I don’t want my nosey self being slapped or losing the only friend I’ve made so far by asking about something that’s none of my business. For now, I keep my mouth shut. If Jess wants to share her story with me at a later date, that’s fine, but I won’t push it.

  “I’m here because of drugs. Why are you here?”

  My mouth hangs open slightly. This girl must have read my mind. She has no problem going for the jugular.

  “Can’t control my penchant for rum,” I tell her with a trivial shrug of my shoulders. “How long have you been here?”

  “Five weeks. It’s working. The program, I mean.” She says the words, but the way she says it makes me think she’s lying. I’m sure if given the opportunity, she’d be snorting shit, or shooting it into any available vein. I glance down at her bare arms. There aren’t any marks there, but if she’s been here that long, they’ve more than likely faded. “I’ll be leaving this time next week.”

  “That’s good,” I say, not sure how to respond. “I’m glad to hear it works here. It costs a small fortune.” I gesticulate to my surroundings. The opulent splendour surrounding us magnifies my guilt about the amount of money this will cost Audrey. I give my head a little shake, determined to rid myself of those thoughts. “Are you ready to go home?”

  “More than ready. I’m grateful for all they’ve done for me here, but I’m eager to get back to my life.”

  “I get that,” I tell her with sincerity in my eyes.

  I feel a little sad that I won’t have her as a friend during my stay.

  “Daddy pays for all this,” she announces, taking me by surprise. “I’m a huge disappointment.” I’m sure she’s not actually saying this to me, but rather telling me how she sees herself.

  “I’m sure he’s just worried about you.” I offer a slither of support, not wanting her to feel sorry for herself. We’ve only just met, but I feel I could help her. We could help each other.

  We spend a few minutes just sitting in silence. “You’re here to get sober?” she asks. I nod. “You also need to fix that broken heart?”

  Again, this girl has me dumbfounded, shocked at her perceptiveness. I nod again, feeling the tears form, then one trickles down my cheek.

  “How did you know?”

  “Kat, it’s your aura. It screams heartache.”

  In this moment, I’ve found another friend, and it makes me more certain than ever that I’m where I’m supposed to be.

  I’m here to sober up, but most of all, I’m here to find myself.

  I’ve been here for a few days, and so far, I’ve met all kinds of people, all with different addictions. They’re from all walks of life, but most have money behind them. I can tell they come from money by the clothes they wear, and their entitled behaviour. I distance my
self from most of them; I don’t fit into their worlds.

  The two main addictions being treated here are drugs and booze. The drug addicts’ drug of choice is either heroin, or cocaine – sometimes both. There are many people here who, just like me, have a problem with booze. I’ve met some women and men who have eating disorders too, and their pain is just as real as anyone else’s. Every single person here is fighting their own monsters, dealing with not only their particular addiction, but underlying issues too. I’ve met a couple of guys who have a sex addiction, and their situation is serious, but some of their stories are so funny I’ve found myself doubled over in fits of laughter on more than one occasion. They’ve tried it on with me and other women here. We’ve all politely declined their offers of affection.

  I’ve met so many people battling their own demons in my group sessions. Listening to them, their heart-breaking stories of love, loss, and complete despair has touched me more than any of these people will ever know. The support we show each other is heart-warming. No one feels ashamed of themselves, no one shows pity, and when I look around the room at all the different faces, every single person shows sympathy, and a strong gaze. I never feel ashamed to speak up, and most people know about Connor, but I’m struggling to find the strength to talk about my parents and Lisa.

  Detoxing is a bitch. I’m sweating, shaking, and irritable. I’m only on day four, and the cravings have started to kick in in a major way. The detox program is going well, but it’s still early days. I’ve showered more times than I can count, and when I try to use something to take my mind off it, I find that nothing holds my interest. All I can focus on is the state I’m in. I’ve placed my trust in the staff here. The counsellors are amazing, and not once have I felt like less of a person in their care. I matter, my life matters, and they make sure we all know it. My confidence has soared, my fitness is improving, and I’m generally living a healthier lifestyle. It’s a structured program; everything is timetabled, and at first, I hated it. It felt more like a prison than rehab, but now I realise it’s good to have structure to each day. There is so much to do here, and everyone is so busy doing something. My favourite place is the garden, and I sit in the dining hall after breakfast, waiting for the doors to be unlocked. I’m getting agitated, my foot tapping uncontrollably while I pick at the skin around my fingernails.

  The nightmares have increased, but one of my counsellors assures me that, over time, when the cravings begin to subside and detox is under control, I will sleep peacefully almost every night. I can’t wait.

  The dreams have become more vivid, mainly about my parents and their horrific death, but sometimes, Connor makes an appearance in my subconscious mind, intermingled in all the chaos. I wake with my body damp and my sheets wet from the amount of sweat.

  Dale – one of the carers here – sees me sitting waiting for him to open the doors. “Morning, Kat.” He chuckles. This is the third day I’ve waited in the same spot.

  “Morning, Dale. How are the twins?”

  “Feral,” is his reply; it makes me laugh loudly. He’s a married man with four-year-old twins, and I can see the dark circles around his eyes. “They just won’t let us sleep.” His downhearted tone evokes a sympathetic look from me.

  “I’m sure it will get better over time.” I have no idea what it’s like to raise a child, or two of the same age.

  “I guess.” He shoots me a warm smile. “We’ll get through it. Are you ready to go outside?” He unlocks the door.

  “Yes, please.” I nod enthusiastically. I stand, walking out into the freezing early morning. I’m wrapped up for the Arctic. The temperature outside is minus something, but I don’t care. I need to feel the chill sting my cheeks, and the frigid air refresh my lungs.

  Like the last few days, today is a busy one. There are many activities planned for today, and first on the agenda is a group session with one of the counsellors in a couple of hours.

  The expanse of the garden is vast, with raised beds, grey slate tiles of the walkways all around. Big plants, shrubs, and potted flowers that have wilted due to the winter months are dotted all around. I keep moving to keep warm, walking slowly around the garden, taking everything in. When I reach the snug – a wooden shack, furthest away from the main house – I decide to look inside. Long bench seats line all the walls, with faux fur throws, cushions, and bookshelves lined with all kinds of genres. The garden isn’t open for very long, so I pick a book I like the look of and sit to read the first couple of chapters. It’s grabbed my attention, so I decide to take it back to the house. I tuck it under my arm and continue my perusal of the garden.

  The noises coming from behind one of the shrubs halts my footsteps. I know what I hear, but I must see it with my own eyes. ‘Oh, ahs’, and ‘yeah baby’, permeate the morning air. A female voice and a male voice are clear, and they’re having sex. When I push through a few overhanging branches, I reach a small clearing then stop dead where I stand. One of the guys who propositioned me earlier in the week has his trousers round his ankles, with his bare backside on display. I chuckle at the sight, and when he repositions himself, the identity of the woman he is screwing is revealed. Jess.

  She’s naked from the waist down. Her backside rests on a horizontal tree trunk, with her legs wrapped around the guy’s waist. He’s pumping so hard and fast I’m surprised she can stay on that trunk.

  I’m all for a little early morning delight, but…

  Before I can finish that thought, Jess spots me. I suddenly feel like a voyeur, hard-practised on watching people have sex. She smirks at me, her lip curling up in the corner slightly. The guy, I forget his name, turns when he sees something has grabbed Jess’ attention. He smirks too.

  “Either join in or fuck off!” he shouts out, without losing any momentum. His hips rock back and forth at a rapid rate. I turn my back on them and begin to walk away.

  Jess only has three days left, and I wonder if she’s fuelling a new addiction to make up for the one she’s in the process of kicking. Shagging random people will not fill that void. The guy is supposed to be in rehab for a sex addiction. I can see it’s working out well for him so far. I chuckle at my thoughts then head back towards the main house. I walk with purpose in my step, proud that I seem to be getting to grips with my own addiction. Luckily, I do not feel the need to replace the booze with anything so demeaning.

  After seeing those two, my own sexuality moves to the forefront of my mind. I remember Connor, the way he held me, the way he moved in between my thighs, taking me to heights I’ve never been to before.

  I wonder where he is.

  Probably in between Lisa’s thighs.

  When I reach the reception area, there is a sign there that I didn’t notice before.

  Visitor Day

  From 2 p.m.

  That means friends and families of the residents here will be visiting with us. I wonder if any of my friends will come to see me. Benny, perhaps. Audrey is a possibility. Oh, shit. I wonder if Grumpy will come. I don’t think I’m ready to face the wrath of my boss after what I did.

  “Hi, Claudia.” I wave as I walk past her shuffling papers and looking busy.

  “Morning, Kat. How are you?”

  “Bearing up, considering I’ve not had a drink,” I respond with a wink.

  “Atta girl. Don’t forget it’s visitor day today.”

  “I don’t think anyone will be coming to see me.” I don’t think it’s wise to mention I am family-less. If the flood gates open, they will take far too much effort to close them again.

  “Okay, let me check.” She begins tapping the keyboard of her computer. “No, we definitely have visitors coming for you today.”

  “Who?”

  “Bernadette Reese-Wilson, and some guy called Raven are on the list.” My heart leaps with joy at the mention of my friend’s name. “When lunch is over, we’ll clear the dining hall and set up for visitors.”

  I nod, and with my shoulders slumped, I make my way up to my room
.

  I need to shower before I meet with Dr. Howard Hart. He’s my psychologist here, and on the couple of sessions we’ve met so far, he’s tried his hardest to get me to open up, but I’ve refused, only giving him a small snippet of the crap going on in my head to work with. He’s diagnosed entirely on my addiction and the information I’ve given him thus far that I need Dual Diagnosis Treatment pertaining to the alcohol and depression of losing Connor. I think it’s enough to deal with right now, so I withhold the story of my parents’ death and the shit storm that is Lisa.

  I knock and enter Dr. Hart’s room. “Come on in, Kat. Take a seat.”

  “Where would you like me to take it?” I think I’m being funny, but I’m sure this guy knows I’m using humour to try and mask my unease and nervousness.

  He gives me a wry smile as he watches me walk in. I sit down opposite him in the armchair that swallows my small frame then tuck my legs in underneath me, getting myself comfortable for the session to begin.

  “How are you settling in?” he asks. He’s already asked me this. Twice.

  “Okay,” I respond. A short, sharp clipped answer isn’t what he’s looking for. I can tell by the way his wry smile intensifies. “The people are nice, the staff cannot do enough, and well, I think this place,” I gesticulate with my hand, “will be the making of me. A new person could be born here.”

  I think I’ve overdone it. “Hmm, mmm. I see.”

  Dr. Hart is a handsome man for an older guy. He fiddles with his wedding band, twisting it around his finger. If he carries on, he’ll wear out the yellow gold. This is a tactic I’ve seen before. He asks open-ended questions, getting me to elaborate, open up, and take control of the conversation. I’m well read on the art of psychology, but being the subject under the spotlight is an alien feeling. “Where is your family?” is his second open ended question.