Page 38 of Julian's Curse

“I won’t bring it up again, but if you need anything, just say the word to me or Mr. Dickens,” he reassured me, his chin brushing gently against my forehead.

And then, in a heartbeat, he was gone. I stood there, watching him drive away, the weight of our shared moments lingering in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the hard journey ahead.

With Julian gone, I felt a deep loneliness on the first day of his trip. The silence in our apartment was almost suffocating, each tick of the clock amplifying the absence of his presence. Yet amidst that loneliness, there was also relief present—like a giant weight had been lifted. The secret was out, and I no longer had to wrestle with my suspicions about the cause of his sudden anger outbursts or the mysterious ache in the corners of my mouth.

Rose also seemed to be making a steady recovery during her stay in the care facility. I visited her the following day. Her room was overflowing with vibrant flowers, their colors brightening the sterile space and bringing a sense of life to her surroundings. I made a conscious effort to steer clear of any topics that mightdistress her further, knowing how fragile her emotions were after her heart attack. Still, I felt it was important to tell her that Julian had left for rehab.

“Thank goodness, Lucie.” She croaked, visibly weak after everything her body had endured. Tears suddenly flew down her elegant face, because finding out about his addiction had crushed her. “Are you choosing to stay despite all of it?” Her eyes widened with a mix of surprise and admiration as she processed my dire commitment.

I really had to do some soul-searching about my move to do so. Years before, I’d attended several meetings for the family and friends of addicts, largely due to my dad’s drinking. Those experiences made it clear that addiction is a lifelong struggle, not just something one can overcome and move past. This was the reality for most addicts, and now it was a struggle I would be facing alongside Julian.

But I also felt that I could understand the mental struggle that underlay his chemical dependence. I hadn’t been perfect myself. During high school, I’d battled two types of eating disorders, one that had sent me to the hospital. And I’d often wished I had someone there for me during that time. Actually, there was someone—my best friend Simon, whom I met in a writing club. Our friendship faded as we grew older, but I clearly remembered that we didn’t always overcome our darkest days alone. Sometimes, it was the thought of each other that kept us going, the shared understanding that we could lean on one another in tough times. I wanted Julian to lean on me, as long as he was moving in the right direction.

While he wasn’t around, he had arranged for Rose to be transferred to a new facility with top-notch care, a gesture that clearly demonstrated how deeply sorry he was. It spoke volumes about his commitment to her well-being, even from a distance. I could see that it meant a lot to Rose, knowing he was still lookingout for her despite his own struggle. I’d become certain that if he could get better, the two of them would reestablish their old ties. After all, she had always been the one to ignite his potential by giving him his first sales job and reminding him to stay grounded in the midst of his success. In a way, Roses brought us together when she encouraged Julian to date outside of his usual circle.

When finishing my morning visit at the care facility, I headed straight to work. I intended to get on a merry-go-round routine that would keep me sane. While I waited for my morning Starbucks, a treat I could now justify, Will stood next to me with a gun tucked in his suit jacket. I quickly checked Instagram to catch up with friends. Sophie, unaware of the situation, announced her new open house for her stunning $15 million listing. “Ballin!” I commented, then liked the picture. Inside Starbucks was quite busy so I had a little more time to kill. I moved on to Valentina’s profile. My spirited Puerto Rican girlfriend had just shared a photo of her and Bradley having breakfast just a few streets away from where I was. Seeing them together stirred a mix of emotions. Typically, couples had breakfast after they’d slept together, but it didn’t fit the stage of their relationship. A part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that Bradley had chosen to pursue this relationship to give the press something else to talk about—anything but us. Still, it wasn’t my place to interfere in the lives of two single people. I considered liking the post but ultimately decided against it; Val owed me an apology first.

My mocha was ready, a fancy choice in comparison to my usual, bitter coffee. It would be my food for the day because my stomach right now couldn’t digest anything. I’d also ordered a coffee for Kali, her usual caramel macchiato. Briskly, I grabbed the drinks from the counter and then let Will know that I’d walkthe one block to my office. He nodded and remained several steps behind as we joined the crowds of people starting at 8 AM.

Just as I was about to cross the street to reachApogee, the sight of a familiar couple startled me, almost as if it were fate. Bradley and Valentina were walking toward me, seemingly absorbed in a deep conversation. The serendipity of it coiled into irritation. Of course, the universe wouldn’t give me a break. Both of them were my close friends, yet neither had any clue about what was going on in my life. It was too late to duck inside because Val spotted me the moment she glanced ahead. We both froze, caught in an awkward moment.

My first instinct was to shake my head, unwilling to accept how she’d treated me because he’d become her love interest. Bradley, as opposed to her, searched my gaze, evidently pleased to see me, his sharp jawline curving into a warm smile. I acknowledged him, but he could probably tell that Val and I had just had a falling out. She leaned in close to his ear, whispering what might have been an explanation—or maybe she just wanted me to see her almost licking his ear. She’d gotten possessive of him, like I’d want to compete with her over him.

I really needed the light to turn green, because I suspected Val was still not in a place where this conversation would go well. It felt like I had only milliseconds to react, so I shifted my weight from foot to foot to shake off my nervousness.

They ambled toward me, but she still avoided my gaze. Right when she was close enough to spit in my direction, which I think she’d do with her fieriness, the light changed, and I quickly hopped into the intersection. I didn’t look back at their expressions, even though it stung like hell that my best friend saw me as a traitor. Will noted my reaction but didn’t say a word, his job requiring him to remain as stoic as possible. And I appreciated the aloofness more than he could know.

I arrived at the office,my coworkers still giving me curious glances. Kali welcomed me with a bright smile, then shoved a thick folder my way. “We’re all optimized. I fixed our subscription issues. I’ve also made the app compatible with almost every device on the market. And no more issues with slow loading times.” She summarized her productivity.

“Thanks, Kali,” I rejoiced. “I feel like maybe you should take a day off after hustling like this for weeks. In the meantime, I’ve at least brought you a macchiato to express my endless gratitude.”

She shook her head. “Actually, I’m ready for more again. I’m enjoying this. And you’re always sweet for bringing me coffee, I don’t think I can justify Starbucks, so thank you, Lucie,” she looked genuinely happy at work, which made total sense given her situation; the job had pulled her back from impending doom, and also aligned with her passions in digital media.

I found myself wishing I were as up-to-date on things as she was. I needed to write a couple of articles, one titledThe Art of Journalingand the otherMindfulness Practices for Everyday Life.I also needed to help one of our staff members compile several pages of interviews with inspiring women. Suddenly it felt like an unsurmountable mountain.

I typically aimed to add a personal touch to everything I wrote, which made my content relatable, a quality that got me my first reader base. Yet now, I found myself completely unable to do that. For one, there was no way I could ever journal about what was happening with Julian; well knowing how destructive it would be for his business, fully aware that his other investors would freak out at the news of him snorting coke up his nose.And when it came to mindfulness, my mind was racing at warp speed. No amount of staring into greenery would help the situation.

“I have a few interviews for new engineers in the rec room,” Kali announced, her tone a mix of excitement and determination.

“Good luck,” I wished her, feeling a bit relieved that our little corner of the office would now be empty. I needed a solitary moment to collect myself after seeing Val with Bradley. It just didn’t feel good to be at war with my best girlfriend. She’d never been this way with me, except now.

When Kali disappeared, I unlocked the storage drawer in my desk, grateful for the tall divider that thankfully kept me out of clear view. Every so often, I took out the glazed red rose that Julian had made for me, a symbol of a seemingly impossible wish. That night, early in our relationship, I had expressed my desire for the moment to last forever while holding that rose, fully aware it would eventually wilt. But he had stolen it back while I was sleeping and had it custom-made into a keepsake, preserving the memory of that fleeting moment.

I played with it for a moment, admiring its golden stem. Aside from Julian’s engagement ring, this was perhaps the most precious item I owned. Its beauty was a testimony to a love that felt incredibly strong, yet now felt somewhat breakable after what I’d learned about him. Would he get sober for us? It worried me that someone with his money and fame would constantly be surrounded by temptations. Having developed such a chemical dependency, there’d always be a ghost in our love, and the possibility of relapse.

I tucked the rose back into the drawer, then decided to treat myself to his first note. Maybe it would help me miss him a little less—if that was even possible. I pulled his phone from my purse and unlocked it using his usual code combination. He’d alwaysshared it with me without hesitation, a sign of his trust and loyalty. As the screen lit up, I felt a rush of anticipation, eager to find out what he chose to write for our first day apart. I clicked on the first of a long row of notes.

Lucie, I’ve always lived by the motto “Live Fast, Die Young,” but that’s no longer the path I want to take. I want us to grow old together. So, if you ever doubt my ability to change, know this: for you, I’d do anything. Love, Julian.

A laugh rumbled in my chest. He really knew how to shift my mood. Also, we seemed to have toyed with the same ideas in our note for today, something that I’d expect in our unique connection. My first note to him had said:You’re probably going through utter hell now. It’s for your own good. I love you to a point where hopefully not even death can us part. I wondered if he’d already opened it and noticed a similar theme.

Was he truly going through hell, or did they have enough medication to numb him? He had promised to sign a release form with the rehab, so I planned to call their staff in the afternoon to check-in. But until then, I vowed to focus on my work. I wanted to use this time while he was away to get closer to my goals, even if every part of me longed to be by his side—despite the fact that it wasn’t recommended.

Ialways looked forward to my therapy sessions with Mrs. Followay, but today, I was even more anxious to see her than usual. She was unlike any therapist I’d seen before—because she avoided labeling clients with clinical terms. It felt like the height of cliché to label the girlfriend of an addict as codependent and then hand her a copy of Melody Beattie’s book “Codependent No More,” and I appreciated that she steered away from it.

With her gentle, subtle wrinkles, she was likely in her early 50s, though I knew better than to judge someone’s age based solely on their appearance. But it didn’t seem to matter much, because Mrs. Followay had an authentic presence, radiating a youthful energy that came from true self-acceptance. She didn’t obsess over her outward appearance, and in that way, she was even more beautiful to me. Her long blonde hair complementeda sense of modesty and a motherly charm. She had mentioned that she had multiple children of her own, which only seemed to add to the warmth she put out. You could always tell when a woman prioritized another being over herself.

Every time I stepped into her office, a sense of calm washed over me, as if I were stepping into a cocoon—safe and shielded, where I could speak my thoughts, vomit them out, and feel better in the end. It was a space where I could let out painful truths, no matter how raw, or difficult, or shameful. And due to doctor-patient confidentiality, I did not need to worry that Julian would be trashed by tabloids, though when it came to Mrs. Followay, I’d trust her regardless of an agreement.

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