by Ellie Wade
“Later,” I vow and shoot him a wink before heading to the bathroom and hopping in the shower.
“Do you want company?” he asks from outside the shower stall.
“No!” My response is instant, and it causes a deep chuckle to erupt from Leo.
“Why’s that?” he asks teasingly.
“You know damn well why. I’m not going to be late.”
“Fine.” Humor lines his voice.
The buzz of his electric toothbrush sounds.
“I work tomorrow, but then I’m off for a few days. I was thinking that we could drive back to my parents’ house on my day off. I don’t know if they’ll be there or not, but if so, you can meet them. Plus, I really need to make up with Amos. This is the longest we’ve gone without speaking in my life, and I hate it.”
Amos hasn’t returned one of my texts or reached out to me since he stormed out of my dorm room a week ago. I want to be angry with him because if he was a good friend, he would support my decisions, but I know his anger comes from a place of concern. Nothing good comes from holding on to anger because of a bruised ego. He has his reasons for feeling the way he does, and I’ll accept them, but hopefully, he can learn to accept mine. Bottom line is that I miss him, and I need him in my life.
“Sure. That sounds good.” Leo runs the water in the sink.
“Great,” I reply.
Leo’s gone from the bathroom when I step out of the shower, but his words are smeared on the foggy bathroom mirror: You are my everything.
“Your smudges are going to stay on the mirror, you know,” I call toward the bedroom, a giant smile on my face. Even the obsessive clean freak in me loves his mirror love notes.
“Good, and don’t you forget it.”
I’ve been calling and texting my parents for two days to let them know I’m coming back for a visit with Leo. I haven’t received a response, so either their cell phones are lost, uncharged, or out of service because they’re living on some commune for the summer. My parents aren’t the best thing in my life, obviously, but I still want Leo to meet them and see that part of me. They’re a piece of my history, and for good or bad, they had a role in molding me into the woman I am today. I’ve lived through nineteen years of disappointments, and yet I still crave their attention and approval. I wish I didn’t. I wish there were a switch I could simply turn off that would stop me from feeling the urge to make them proud of me ever again.
“It’s going to be fine, babe. Whatever happens, it will be fine.” He reaches over from the driver’s side of the car to pat my knee.
“I know. I just want them to know you and hear what I’ve been doing with my life. I haven’t seen them since last August,” I reply before remembering the other stressful aspect of this trip. “And what if Amos is still pissy? Maybe this visit was a bad idea.”
“As a wise man told me just this week, you can’t control the actions of others. You just need to live a life that you’re proud of, and if others don’t respond the way you wish they would, it’s on them. You are doing the right thing here. You’re reaching out to the people in your life. If they don’t reach back, you’ll be fine because you had good intentions, and that’s all you can control.”
I press my head back into the seat and stare at Leo. “Those are wise words.” A smile finds my lips. “Ollie?”
“Yeah,” he says.
Ollie is Leo’s NA sponsor and has been instrumental in the growth that Leo has made. He’s a thirty-year-old guy with tanned skin and unruly shoulder-length blond hair. He’s the type of guy I’d imagine spending his days surfing in Hawaii. He’s just chill. I’m so grateful to him because he has this way of speaking to Leo that resonates. He connects to and understands the darkest parts of Leo that I can’t, and I’m so glad that Leo has him.
“Would it be too much to ask that my parents pretend to care? If they’re there, I’ll have seen them an hour all year. Anyone can fake love for an hour.”
“They love you. How could they not? Maybe they don’t love you in the way they should, but they care. But once again, babe, it doesn’t matter. You can’t change them.”
“Well, someday, when I have kids, I’m going to love them so much that they’ll never live a second without knowing how truly loved and important they are.”
“I have no doubt you will. You show everyone you care about that you value them. It’s why you’re so easy to love.” He taps my knee and returns his hand back to the steering wheel.
The last time I told Leo that my main dream in life was to be a mom, it started a huge fight because he said he was never having kids. He doesn’t make a similar comment this time, but I’m afraid to ask him if he’s changed his mind. I have enough to worry about today. Picking an argument with Leo wouldn’t be ideal.
As we pull up to my parents’ house, I sigh. The place looks like it did last time I was home—abandoned. The spring grass is tall in places, but then there are large areas where the grass hasn’t come up at all due to piles of dead leaves from last fall still sitting and decaying.
Leo parks the car, and we step out.
“This place was once really cute. When we moved here after my grandparents passed, I remember loving it. I kept it up while I was here, but clearly, it doesn’t take much neglect to really fall into disarray. I’m still incredibly thankful to my grandparents for leaving us this house. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like had I been raised as a nomad, like my parents always wanted. This place and Amos as my neighbor brought me stability.” I feel the need to explain this to Leo as we stand here, looking at the piles of trash on the front porch.
He extends his hand, and I take it. We walk up the steps to the house. I unlock the door and hesitantly step in. The smell of rot that hits me is almost enough to make me want to close the door and leave.
“Lee-Anne? Vati?” I call out.
“We’re here,” my dad’s gruff voice answers.
I swallow the lump in my throat, and my heart sinks. Their absence would’ve been easier.
“You ready for this?” I ask Leo.
“Of course.” He squeezes my hand.
Inside, we find my parents sitting in the living room, thankfully clothed this time. The smell of pot burns my nostrils, and I wave my hand in front of my face to break up the stagnant air.
“We didn’t know you’d be back today,” my mom singsongs, “and with a guest.”
“Sorry, I called and texted. I couldn’t get ahold of you but needed to come back to see Amos. So, I’m glad you’re here. I want you to meet Leo.”
Leo doesn’t miss a beat. He steps over a pile of trash in the hall and extends his hand to introduce himself to my parents. His greeting is heartfelt, and as he smiles and shakes my parents’ hands, my heart swells.
“He’s quite handsome, Almalee,” Lee-Anne says.
“Yeah, he is.” The corners of my lips tilt into a smile.
I give my parents each a quick hug. They smell like musky body odor.
“How are you?” I ask them.
They both look skinnier than ever, and I know they’re not eating enough. They both are wrinkled with splotchy skin and bags under their eyes. My mother’s hair is so wispy, and her roots are gray. They appear ten years older than the last time I saw them.
“Oh, just wonderful, dear. Living life, you know? Just free,” my dad drawls out, obviously stoned.
“Are you going anywhere this summer?” I ask as I navigate around the junk on the floor and back into the kitchen.
I know that this isn’t my home anymore, and I shouldn’t care that they’re living like this, but I do. I reach into the cupboard under the sink and pull out some garbage bags.
Leo is at my side, and I caress the top of his hand in thanks and hand him a bag.
My parents tell us of the new commune that one of their friends opened in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Apparently, clothing is optional, but with the deer flies and their vicious bites up there, it’s recommended.
Leo and I fill seven garbage bags, and he takes them out to the curb while I clean up the kitchen. My mother sits, zoned out, while my father talks about the compost system at the camp they’re going to next week. I scrub the kitchen sink. Old habits die hard, and the clean freak in me can’t stand that they live like this.
When the kitchen is clean, I try to tell them a little about my last year of school. It’s hard to hold their attention, and Lee-Anne’s eyelids start to droop.
“Do you want us to leave, so you can take a nap?” I ask.
“That’d be nice.” Lee-Anne yawns.
“Okay, well, we’re going to get you some food. You have nothing to eat in the kitchen. So, just know we’ll be back.”
I want to tell them to keep their clothes on, but I don’t. Hopefully, they do though.
Leo and I say good-bye and exit the house.
“You still love me?” I tease when we step outside, knowing it must have been a shock for Leo to see where I came from.
“I love you even more.” He leans down and kisses my head. “You amaze me, Almalee.”
I press my lips together and grin.
I look over to Amos’s house. “Do you mind waiting in the car until I smooth things over with Amos?”
“Yeah, sure.” Leo bends and presses his lips to mine, soft and sweet. “Do you want me to grab some food for your parents from that corner store we passed while you talk to him?”
“Thank you. That would be great.” I run my hand along the five o’clock shadow that he has going on, and my stomach flutters. Gah, he’s so hot. All right, focus. “Just bags of beans, rice, fruits, veggies, and bread. Maybe some peanut butter. They don’t eat meat or dairy.”
“No problem. I’ll be back.”
I supply Leo with another quick kiss and then grab the bag of Famous Amos Chocolate Chip Cookies that I left in the car. As I walk up to Amos’s front door, I turn the bag of cookies over in my hand. My entire friendship with Amos is built on traditions and little anecdotes that only the two of us know. Yet, in all the years I’ve known my best friend, we’ve never established a tradition for making up because we’ve never had a need for one. He’s never been mad at me. I couldn’t show up at his door without a peace offering of some sort, so Leo and I stopped at a gas station on the way here, and I bought a bag of Amos’s namesake cookies.
I knock and wait.
Amos’s mom answers, and a smile graces her face. “Alma.” She wraps me into a hug. “So good to see you. Let me get Amos.”
She retreats, and a few moments later, Amos approaches, his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts.
“Hey,” he says, his flat expression giving nothing away.
“Hey. I come bearing gifts.” I hold out the bag of cookies.
Amos takes it with a hint of a smile. “Thanks.”
“Can we talk?”
He nods and steps out onto the porch. We take a seat on the top step.
“Well, either you’ve recently acquired a Porsche or you went back to him.” He frowns.
“We’re together,” I state, not an ounce of regret in my voice. I won’t apologize for loving Leo. “Listen, I love you so much. You are the only true family I have. I’d have nothing without you, Amos. But if you love me, then you need to allow me to make my own choices. You have to trust that I know more about the situation than you do. I know Leo more than you do. I know my heart and what I need more than you do. It’s not weakness that I took him back; it’s strength. I love him enough to be vulnerable. And you know, maybe you’re right. Maybe he’ll hurt me, and if that happens, then I’ll survive it. But maybe you’re wrong, and he’ll cherish me and make me happier than I’ve ever been. I deserve to love someone who makes me feel the way Leo does.”
Amos bends the edge of the plastic cookie bag back and forth. He’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “I’m scared for you, Alma.”
“Me too,” I admit. “But I’m also really excited to see where this life takes me. My connection with Leo isn’t something I can explain to you. You wouldn’t understand because you can’t feel it like I do. But I’m telling you that it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of wanting. Leo is worth fighting for. Please just trust me and love me. If I fall, then you’ll be there to catch me. And if I fly, you’ll be there to cheer me on. Just be my friend.” My voice catches on the last word, and I swallow hard.
I extend my pinkie finger toward him, and he takes it in his.
I sigh, relieved.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was a horrible best friend this week.”
Our connected fingers rest against his thigh, and I lean my head on his shoulder. “You’re the best friend a girl could ask for, Amos. I love you.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I love you.”
We sit this way in silence for a few minutes, soaking in the easy comfort that we’ve always shared.
“So, we’re good?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“Does that mean you’ll come out to dinner with Leo and me before we head back?” My voice rises an octave, and I chew on the corner of my mouth, waiting for his reply.
“Yeah, I guess I have to get to liking the guy again.”
“Yay! Okay, great.”
Once Leo returns with groceries, we stand from the step, and Amos tells me that he’ll meet me at the car after he lets his mom know that he’s heading out. I practically skip back to the car, so happy that everything has worked out.
Leo and I drop off the bags of food in my parents’ kitchen and say good-bye again.
Amos waits next to the Porsche, and I smile wide. Things are back to the way they should be, and joy explodes from my chest.
FORTY
Leo
Dinner with Alma and Amos wasn’t the way I would’ve chosen to spend the evening, but Alma had a huge smile plastered on her face the entire time, and for that, it was worth it. I don’t hold anything against the guy. If I were him, I’d hate me too. Truthfully, I’m easy to hate.
I’d never say this to Alma, but the dude is a little boring. He’s so straitlaced and by the book. I have a hard time talking to him. Plus, he and Alma almost have this weird twin thing going on. They have ways of communicating that only make sense to them, little quirks that only the two of them know about, and secret handshakes.
Their relationship is borderline creepy, but who I am to judge really? I have one friend, Ethan, and while he’s the real deal, he’s stood by and watched me kill myself with drugs for years. He’s always been there to help pick me up when I fall, and he’s always had my back. But if Alma were to start doing any of the shit I’ve done, Amos would pull her ass away from the mess before she could blink. He’d have her in rehab before her first hit; I’m sure of it. If that’s true friendship, I’m void of it.
As much as the dude’s boring-ass stories about shit I couldn’t care less about make me want to sleep, he’s loved Alma unconditionally since they were young. I can’t deny him mad props for that. Who knows what Alma’s life would look like now had it not been for him? She always tells me that everyone needs at least one person to truly love them, and they can overcome anything. He is that person for her, and I’m glad she has him.
In all fairness, Amos’s mundane personality is probably triggering me more than normal because I’m fucking exhausted. I haven’t slept more than a couple of hours in two days. The thing about trauma is, I can go days without thinking about it, but when the memories invade, they drop me to my knees. My mind refused to turn off over the past two nights, and there’s nothing worse than experiencing it all again in my nightmares. So, I stayed awake and held Alma while she slept, focusing on everything about her that’s pure and good, letting her light drown out my dark.
The old me would’ve spiraled at this point, but instead, I met with Ollie, my sponsor, while Alma was at work and talked it out with him. Between his words and the hours of workouts I did the past couple days, I was able to fight off the urges. The voices within me that scr
eam so loud for an end to all of this are hard to ignore. But I do. As Ollie says, that’s my life now—one day at a time. And I’ll take it. I’ll fight the addiction over and over again. As good as those first few moments of numbness feel after I give in and use, none of it compares to the way it feels to be loved by her. None of it. Alma is the best drug I’ve ever had, and unlike the others that kill me little by little, she gives me life.
We’re halfway home, and time has slowed way the hell down. I just want to get back and finally sleep. I’m exhausted enough that I know my nightmares won’t come. Two days of long work shifts and the anticipation of going home have Alma sleeping already, buckled in the passenger seat.
My eyelids grow heavy, and I blink hard and yawn. The headlights of the car bounce against the pavement, and shadows taunt my fatigue. I look toward the radio and turn up the current song. With my eyes back on the road, the lights ahead confuse me, taking on an abnormal shape. The red of brake lights flash, but it’s too late. I slam on my brakes and swerve to miss the line of stopped cars in front of me.
Pavement and lights flash before me and then the night sky disappears from view as the ground appears out the windshield before that too leaves. The car jolts to a halt, landing on its wheels. There’s a deafening thud and the creak of metal screeching. Glass breaking.
Mentally, I take stock of my surroundings. The sounds. The screams. The smell of grass and trees and something metallic. I will sensation to come—from my arms, legs, heart, anywhere. I’m numb, and I can’t feel anything.
Did I make it?
I open and close my eyes. My head pounds. It takes a moment before I can see or comprehend what happened, and when I remember, she is the only thing that matters. I force my head to turn toward Alma, and as she comes into focus, I wish I were dead.
“Nooo!” I cry. “No! No! No! Please, God, no!” I try to reach for her, but my arm won’t move, and when I look down, I see a bone protruding from my skin. “Please, take me. Please, take me,” I beg. My vision blurs—I think from tears, but I can’t tell. “Alma, baby, please. Alma, wake up. Please wake up.”
