Page 48 of Taste of Addiction

“Angie…”

“You are so disengaged from the reality of all the things I’m going through right now,” I rant, shoving my legs into the bottoms, “that you have to bring your judgmental eyes and lack of trust upon me too. Like I’m not dealing with enough.”

His frown breaks my heart, and I can’t stand to look at it happening. I am being harsh—even if I feel it is justified—but he basically is lacking a sensitive bone in his body at the moment.

“I saw you take three of something. I am worried that you are taking too many. If your head hurts this bad, then we need to go see a doctor.” I can see his anger boiling. He is hiding it, but I can tell it is there. He has two emotions—mad and not mad. And right now, he is definitely mad. I don’t deal withmadwell, especially from him.

“Tylenol, Graham,” I say in a huff, pulling a cotton shirt over my head. “Have you ever heard of it before? Know how mild Tylenol is? It basically does nothing for a headache. They allow pregnant people to have Tylenol, Graham. Babies can have Tylenol. It is like swallowing a piece of candy. That’s what I took. Nothing crazy. Nothing really even effective.”

He eyes me skeptically. “What else did you take?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Before I arrived,” he clarifies. He stands over me while I put on a fresh pair of fuzzy socks.

I shake my head back and forth in shock. Is he for real?

He kneels down in front of me, while I sit on the edge of the bed. I think he is going to hug me or put his head on my lap like he has done in the past. Instead, he reaches up to steady my chin. “Your pupils are constricted. I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before. What else did you take?”

I swallow hard and brace myself.

“What else did you take, Angie!”

“Um. Well…” I look away and have trouble focusing.

“Tell me, Angie. Tell me!”

I pull my chin away from his touch. “I had a drink, Graham. I told you this downstairs already. A simple drink because my entire assignment that I need in order to graduate has been trashed.”

He gets up from the floor and walks downstairs. I hear him rummaging around the kitchen. When he gets back up to the room, he hands me a giant glass of water. “Here, at least drink this.”

I take the water out of his hand and mouth, “Thank you.” It is like my vocal cords have stopped working. The glass hits my teeth as my trembling hand tries to steady it. Water dribbles down my chin, and I quickly wipe it up with the back of my free hand. I place the glass on the nightstand and climb into bed under the covers.

Graham leans over and places a gentle kiss on my lips. “I love you, sweetheart. We’re going to get through all of this together.”

I close my eyes and wonder what he means exactly, but I am too weak to ask him to clarify.

“I love you too.”

10

At seven thirty, my alarm sounds, and I roll over to find the bed empty with just the imprint of where Graham’s warm body once lay. I wasn’t expecting him to stay. He said he couldn’t, but he did anyway. Memories of the night filter through my head like a slideshow. Project failure. Pill accusation. Graham spooning me until the sun rose and then disappearing with the only sign he was even here being his scent he left behind. I can still smell him on my pillowcases. I’ll never want to wash them.

Hmm. Despite being asleep most of the time, I can still feel his lips against my neck, breathing in the scent of my hair. His hips in line with mine, pressing his crotch into my butt. He must have told me how beautiful I was at least a dozen times.

My only regret is not being as coherent as I could have been. So that I could commit every word and every movement to my permanent memory.

I throw on clothes in a hurry and decide that professional attire is best. I settle for a bronze-colored pantsuit with a silk shirt in a soft ivory shade. I know I didn’t buy it myself, and it looks too long to be Claire’s. Regardless, I am thankful that I have options. I pin the back of my pants to keep them from falling down. I am sure with a little carbs, I will be filling them back in.

My headache is dull this morning and not nearly as bad as it has been over the past forty-eight hours. I swallow one of the special pills Owen gave me, just to help with the maintenance. I transfer the remaining ones to another container and throw away the bottle that has all of his information on the label. I am so thankful that he hooked me up, even if the pain is simply reduced and not actually cured.

I comb my hair back with some water and twist it into a low bun, securing it with several hair ties. My hair is thick and often has a mind of its own. I brush my teeth and dust on a layer of light makeup. I grab a pair of heels from the box in the closet and jog downstairs. If I am going to have time to print my work, I have to leave soon.

I slip on my shoes, pack my school bag, and lock up the house. The morning air is less fierce than it was at the safe house. I think being in the valley helps shield Portland from some of the winter elements typically seen in the mountains. For that I am glad. I much prefer warmer weather to the cold.

I start the engine and back out of the parking lot. I eat a granola bar to calm my angry stomach while I drive. Once on campus, I park and run up to the computer lab. I put my new flash drive into the port and print my partial project. I look at the stark white paper feeding through the printer that gets inked with my mediocre words. It is sad to think that in this moment, I have let myself and my professor down.

I pull the sheets off the top and stuff them into a folder. I log out of the machine I was using and make my way out of the building and back to my car. I park at Harrison Hall, then walk through the main entrance and down the same hall I have walked down numerous times. I push some pieces of hair that have escaped the bun behind my ears.

---