This Mess We're In

by Scarlett Grove

  “Um, boob job Stacy?”

  “Yeah. That one. Anyway, she works at the gym now and she was telling me about this guy who’s been working out there. His name is Damien.”

  My eyes popped open. Was he moving on from me already? Jealousy bubbled up from my stomach and squeezed my heart.

  “Apparently, Stacy thinks he’s the hottest guy ever and has been putting in some hardcore flirting.”

  “Do I want to hear this?”

  “Hold on. She’s totally into this guy, but he didn’t give her the time of day at first. But I guess he’s, like, nice. She said he is anyway.” Zoe winked and ate a fry. “She basically threw herself at him. He never let it go anywhere. But they did talk a lot after his workouts.”

  I let out an audible sigh of relief. I still cared about Damien. I wanted to run to him and hide against his heart like nothing could ever hurt me. Too bad it was a fantasy. You can always get hurt, no matter how much you love someone.

  “So, Stacy told me he was there training for some mixed martial arts thing. But get this. The fight he was training for was this weekend. It seems strange but this is what Stacy said; I guess the stakes were to get the heroin dealers out of town. If he wins anyway.”

  “What? What if he loses?”

  “I guess the dealers get to take over this territory.”

  “This is crazy. If they know who the dealers are, why doesn’t someone say something to the police?”

  “Come on, Claire, you know what this town is like. Half the families here have crops up in the hills. No one will rat out a drug dealer in a town of drug dealers. Anyway, this bike gang is led by some kind of kingpin out of Sacramento. That’s why the Black Blades are dealing with it this way.”

  “So, the Black Blades aren’t dealing heroin?”

  “Apparently not. Apparently just the opposite.”

  “God, I made a terrible mistake.”

  I looked down at my food like it was vomit on a plate. Rose reached for another noodle, and I absently handed it to her. How could I have been so wrong?

  “Do you have any idea when this fight was supposed to happen?”

  “I don’t know, just this weekend.”

  “It’s Saturday night.”

  I looked out the window and saw a gang of bikers pull up the street; none of them looked familiar. They looked like hard-core bikers with long beards, shaved heads, and tattoos that couldn’t be covered up for normal jobs.

  They came toward the café and my heart dropped. If I’d just been there to support him, things might have gone differently. My mind ran in a million directions as I looked over my shoulder at the men coming through the front door.

  “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to call him.”

  I threw a twenty at Zoe and ran out the door to my car. Rose whimpered when I put her in the back seat. She wasn’t ready to leave. I drove home at top speed and pulled into the driveway. The house lights were on. Regan was home. I pulled Rose out of the car and hurried through the front door.

  I hadn’t seen Regan in days. I felt like an idiot for letting her out of my sight. I should have pushed the intervention, but I’d been too self-involved to deal with it. She looked happy. Too happy.

  “Hi, Claire,” she said with manic glee.

  “Hi, Regan, where have you been?”

  “Around.”

  “Have you been using?”

  “Is that any of your business? And who told you you could take Mom’s room?”

  My guilt instantly transformed into outraged resentment. “I did, Regan. If you paid the light bill, maybe you’d get a vote.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Come on, Regan. Even you must realize you don’t pull your weight around here. You’re a freeloader. You bring chaos wherever you go. Why don’t you grow up and start to contribute?”

  She looked hurt. For a moment, I saw the vulnerability of a young woman whose mind had betrayed her. She sank onto the couch and began to cry. Great. She’d cycled. Perfect... Part of me felt sorry for her. She didn’t have control of her illness, the illness she wouldn’t even admit to.

  “I’ve tried so hard, Claire. I really have.”

  “Why don’t you give piano lessons again?”

  “No one will send their kids to have lessons with me anymore. You know that. I’ve been branded. I’m an outcast in this town. Everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

  “Regan. You need to take care of yourself. You need to start seeing a doctor again. Take your medication. You are so talented. You could be a concert pianist if you wanted to. You could do anything. Why do you waste your talent, running out of control in this town?”

  “I’m not taking those meds. They made me numb as fuck, and I can’t even play like that.”

  “You have to try.”

  “I don’t have a problem, Claire. You do.”

  “What?” We had gotten so close to coming together, but she just pulled us apart again.

  “You heard me. You’re selfish. Just because I had a harder time when Mom died doesn’t mean I’m crazy. I shouldn’t be stigmatized for the rest of my life.” She scratched at her arm, and I could see fresh track marks on her skin in the dim light of the living room. I put Rose down and she toddled into the kitchen. Bradly sniffed at her diaper. It was past her bedtime, but I sat down on the couch next to Regan.

  “How long have you been using?”

  “Using what?”

  “Heroin.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I saw you. Remember?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Regan, just fucking tell me the truth.”

  She sighed and looked toward the window. “A few months.”

  “Then it isn’t too late. You can get off it. You can go back to the hospital for a while, get clean, and have a fresh start. Maybe some other medication would work better. You have to try. Don’t you want a good life?”

  “Leave me alone. Stop hounding me.”

  She rose from the couch and pushed past me up the stairs. I could hear her door slam. It felt like she’d slammed my heart.

  I took Rose into the bathroom to give her a bath. It was quiet and cool in there. Watching Rose splash in the bathtub helped my heart rate slow down. When she was done, I put her to bed.

  In my room, I sat on the bed with the breeze blowing in through the window. I needed to talk to Damien, but I was so nervous my hands were sweating.

  I picked up the phone and dialed his cell number. It rang. And rang. Nothing. It went to voice mail and I hung up. What could I say to the recording? Sorry, I was completely wrong about everything? Or maybe I could say, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?“ Neither were easy words to say.

  I stared at the phone until I felt asleep, but he didn’t call back.

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Claire

  I went home, heart beating into a million broken pieces. I thought everything would be better. I thought we would be together again. Even in the days I’d spent hating him for his lies, I knew deep down that I’d take him back. After he pushed me away, the reality of the gaping pit between us revealed itself.

  When I got home, Zoe was in the living room with Rose. Bradly jumped in my path, but I ignored them all. I ran to my bedroom and slammed the door. I needed to let my sorrow out before it choked me. I just wanted him back. I wanted to feel his strong body against mine. I wanted to smell the scent of his skin and bury myself inside the safe, warm place against his chest.

  I threw myself into my pillow and sobbed. I couldn’t blame anyone anymore. I couldn’t even blame myself. All I could feel was blinding pain. I didn’t know what I would do without him. I’d let him get tangled inside my heart, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get him out. Even in the short time we’d been together, he’d left an indelible imprint on me.

  The door cracked open and Zoe peeked through.

  “Are you alright?”

  “No. I’m not. I’m not alright.”

&nb
sp; “What happened?”

  “He told me he’s leaving and asked me to go away.”

  “Crap. I’m sorry. That really sucks. I thought you guys made a great couple.”

  A picture of us walking together down the beach flashed through my mind, and I sobbed into the pillow again. Rose pushed through the door with Bradly behind her. The dog jumped on the bed and licked my face. Rose tried climbing up to me but was still too short to make it. Their antics made me laugh in spite of everything. I lifted Rose up to me and pushed Bradly off the bed.

  “You need ice cream,” said Zoe.

  “Why?”

  “That’s what they always do in the movies, isn’t it? Eat ice cream after the breakup scene.”

  I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want ice cream. I didn’t want anything. All I wanted was to sleep for the rest of my life. “Fine,” I said, halfheartedly. Zoe brought a carton of rocky road from the freezer, and we ate it on the bed. I shoveled bites into Rose’s mouth. As everyone got sugar high, I did start to feel better, I had to admit. As long as I didn’t think about it too much, I’d be okay.

  For a week, all I thought about was work. If I thought about Damien, I’d crack. I sat next to the computer and printed shipping labels for my latest sales. Rose toddled around the living room floor and pulled a stack of Zoe’s magazines off the coffee table. I glanced at her to make sure she wasn’t ripping them up. I doubted Zoe would appreciate Rose’s destroying her current collection.

  When I finished writing down addresses, I scooped the magazines off the floor and put them on the kitchen table, out of Rose’s reach. Rose shrieked that I’d taken her new toys. We can’t always have everything we want, now can we?

  I picked her up and put her in her high chair for lunch. I made her a fruit salad with a slice of whole-wheat toast. I watched her eat, but I had no appetite. I felt hollow. The idea of never seeing Damien again made my whole body ache.

  When she finished eating, I put Rose in her playpen, to her dismay, and pulled out a handful of shipping boxes from the post office. I went to my bedroom and took the freshly sewn and pressed dresses off their hangers, and brought them to the kitchen table.

  With a piece of tissue paper, I folded each dress into an individual box. Checking my mailing list, I carefully attached the shipping labels to the boxes and taped them closed. So far, I’d been able to keep up with my shipping and sewing schedule without a problem.

  The reviews were coming in for my shop, and they were all glowing. There were also requests for other types of clothing — skirts, blouses, shorts, and light pants. It was a solid consolation after losing Damien. If I couldn’t have him, at least I was successful.

  I carried the boxes out to the car, and Bradly ran into the house from outside. When I got back inside, he was chewing on a rawhide bone in his bed. I lifted Rose from her playpen, grabbed my purse, and locked the door. On the way to town, I saw Regan walking home down our gravel road. She wore really short shorts and a ripped tank top. Her hair looked wild and frizzy. Her clothes were dirty and torn. I rolled down the window and leaned my head out.

  “Regan, what’s going on?”

  “I’m going home.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She didn’t answer me. Her eyes were glazed over. I could see fresh pinpricks on her arms. I wanted to stop the car and shake her until she came to her senses. Fear trickled down my throat and burned in my stomach. Did Regan even have any senses left? Would she always be like this? Would she get progressively worse until the sister I knew no longer existed even in my memory?

  “Regan?” My voice was too quiet to be heard over the rumble of the motor. I slammed my palm into the steering wheel and cursed my mother for leaving us. I needed her now. I needed someone to help me bring my sister back. I’d lost too many people I loved already — Mom, Jessy, Damien. I wouldn’t lose Regan too.

  “Regan, get in the car. I’ll give you a ride home,” I shouted through the window.

  She didn’t answer me and just kept walking in the opposite direction. Damn it. I had to get the boxes in the mail. I couldn’t force her in the car. I’d be back in an hour.

  I grunted with frustration, rolled my eyes, and continued to town. Zoe was tired of Regan. She had less tolerance for it Regan’s behavior and less empathy. Zoe was a good person, but she was a pragmatist. For her it just made sense to evict the nuisance. I, on the other hand, couldn’t let her go — even if it might be better for everyone. It wouldn’t be better for Regan.

  I drove into town, my jaw set and tense, and I pulled into the post office parking lot. With Rose on one hip and my boxes on the other, I struggled through the glass front doors.

  At the counter, I paid for my shipping labels and chatted with the postal worker for a few moments about my shipments. She wanted to take a look at my dresses, so I told her how to find my website.

  After the post office, I stopped at the grocery store and then drove back home. When I pulled up in the driveway, Regan was sitting on the front porch rocking back and forth, hugging her knees.

  I jumped out of the car and went to her, daring to put my arm around her shoulders.

  “Regan, what’s wrong?”

  “I was locked out.”

  Tears rolled down her face. She turned toward me and pulled me into a tight hug. I let myself hold her. I wanted to hold her. I wished my love could make all the badness go away. I wished I could heal her with my desire to see her happy. I let everything flood into her through my embrace, praying to God that somehow that would help.

  Rose wailed from the car. Regan pulled away and wept into her knees. Her depression could be worse than her mania, and twice as dangerous.

  I ran to the car and grabbed Rose before I went back to unlock the door. Bradly ran outside and licked Regan’s armpit. She twisted away and continued to cry. After I put Rose in her playpen, I gently pulled Regan into the house, where she collapsed on the couch.

  The phone rang.

  “Hey, it’s me, Zoe. I’m going to work a double tonight. I know we’re doing better moneywise, but I really want to get a cell phone, so go ahead and make dinner without me, okay?”

  “Sure. Don’t work too hard.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I walked into my bedroom with the mobile phone.

  “It’s Regan. She’s crying. She came home a mess. I was on my way to the post office, so I had to leave. When I got back, she was sitting on the porch totally depressed that the door was locked. I’m worried. You know. She gets weird, different weird, when she’s depressed.”

  “Oh God. I know how you feel about this, Claire, but she has to decide she wants to get better. You can’t keep using yourself as a shield for her. You’re going to get hit.”

  “I know, Zoe. I just can’t let her go. I miss her. The real Regan. The old Regan. I want her back. I know she’s in there somewhere.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I think it’s time to face facts.”

  “I’m not going to kick her out. I have to get her to go to the hospital. She has to get clean, get back on her meds. I’m not going to let her drift away. It isn’t going to happen. I’ve lost too many people already.”

  “I understand,” Zoe said, sighing. “I’m glad you’re my sister. I love you.”

  “Ahhh, Zoe.”

  “I’ve got to go. I’m getting that fucking phone!”

  “Okay, sweetie. Bye.”

  When I hung up, I became aware of the sound of intense sobbing intermixed with Rose’s high-pitched wails. I ran into the living room to find Regan crying uncontrollably on the couch. She writhed around in the fetal position, her hands contorting as if she was trying to crawl out of her own skin. Was she coming down from drugs? Was she just depressed? I didn’t know what to do.

  I pulled Rose out of the playpen and bounced her until she quieted. At least I could comfort my baby. I wished there was someone I could call, someone who could come over. My first thought was of Damien. Knowing I could never depend on him agai
n burned me to the core, and a hint of panic sunk in my stomach.

  “Are you hungry, Regan?” I asked, trying to get some control of the situation. She didn’t answer. What was wrong? What was going through her mind? “Can I do something? Can I help?”

  She still didn’t answer, but the crying grew quieter. I got Rose a cup of juice and sat down on the floor, flipping on the TV. I figured if I couldn’t help her, at least I could be with her.

  There was a soap opera on the network station. Our horrible reception was fuzzy, but the audio was okay. In the show, a woman’s baby had been stolen, but apparently, it wasn’t really her baby. Slowly, Regan stopped crying. She lay on the couch silently and watched bad television.

  We watched three back-to-back soap operas before I got up to change Rose’s diaper and put snacks on the coffee table. Rose toddled over to the snacks and ate. Regan didn’t.

  The soaps turned into news and entertainment shows. I was getting seriously bored and had work to do for my business, but I didn’t want to leave Regan alone. Finally, she sat up and picked up a sliced carrot. She took a small bite and let Bradly have the rest.

  Slowly, she stood, grabbed the car keys from where I’d stupidly left them on the kitchen table, and ran out the door. I screamed after Regan, but it was too late. She tore out of the driveway before I had a chance to do anything. A sense of really bad déjà vu swam in my head.

  I called Zoe to tell her what happened. She was pissed but not surprised. Later that night, she got a ride home from one of the cooks and came through the door in a foul mood.

  “I can’t believe this shit,” she said, collapsing on the couch.

  “I know. But please be quiet. I don’t want Rose to wake up.”

  She lowered her voice and stared me straight in the eye. “When is enough going to be enough?”

  I sat on a dining room chair that was turned toward her. “When it is,” was all I could say.

  She crossed her arms and sunk back in the couch, pouting. “We’ve been over this a million times.” She threw her arms in the air. “We can’t force her to take medication. She has to want to do it.”