Page 62 of Close to Falling

“Are you okay?” He gets up and walks over to me.

“No,” I respond. He touches my forehead and sighs.

“You have a fever, baby.” He calls me baby, and I can’t be happy about it because I’m in so much pain. My mouth waters, and my stomach turns.

“Bathroom,” I say, moving the blanket off me. They’re the only words I can get out to ensure I don’t puke everywhere. I make it just in time, clutching the toilet and emptying everything inside of me. It’s painful, disgusting, and I hate myself. Tears fall out of my eyes, and I shake my head as I flush the toilet and shut the lid. I’m such a fucking idiot. So stupid. I did this. I did this yet again to myself. “Fuck!” I yell. River walks in and grabs a washrag.

“Here,” he says. I take it from him and wipe my forehead and then my mouth. I look down at the floor, tired and weak. “Want a shower?”

“No,” I say. “I just need more sleep.” I stand up and walk to the sink to brush my teeth while River leans against the wall, looking at me, worried. I’ve upset my boy again.Shame onme, I think dead on my feet before I look away from him and spit. River helps me to bed, and I close my eyes, falling asleep as he lightly rubs my back.

***

When I open my eyes, I see River on the couch in my room asleep. I sit up and throw my legs over the side of my bed. I’m sticky and still tired, but I get up anyway. Walking by River, I put the throw from my bed over him and walk into the bathroom. I turn the shower on and look at myself in the mirror. Black underlines my eyes, and my skin looks pale and clammy. I pull my hair tie out and lay it on the sink. I peel my clothes off and get into the shower, sighing when the hot water runs over my body, warming me from these chills that have taken over me. Fuck drugs. Fuck withdrawals.

After I get out, I wrap a towel around my body and put my hair in one. I walk into the bedroom quietly so I don’t wake a sleeping River. Grabbing my clothes from my dresser, I let my towel drop and look back at River. This man loves me. He loves me for just being me. The doped-up girl from his childhood. The one that fell and let drugs be her story.

My eyes roam down his body, looking over his tattooed arms and thick fingers, his black jeans and matching boots. I look back at his face, his beautiful features. Dirty blond hair is growing on his chin from worrying too much about me and not shaving. Why does he love me? Why does he care so much about me? I’m always going to have this battle. I’m always going to struggle with this stupid addiction. I don’t understand why River wants to be a part of this war. I pull a T-shirt over my head and slide my panties on. When I look back up, his eyes are open.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

“Hey.” His voice sounds groggy from sleep, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t sexy. But I lie a lot so… We just stare at each other. His eyes go down to my panties and legs before looking back up at my face. He clears his throat and sits up. “You need anything?” he asks.

“No,” I reply. He nods and stands.

“I’m going down for a smoke. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Why are you so good to me?” I ask. He shrugs.

“It comes natural to me, B.”

“Okay,” I say, understanding. I watch him walk out, gripping the back of his neck before looking over at me one last time. Once he is out of the room, I slide back under the covers and pray I have vivid dreams of him instead of drugged-out nightmares.

***

“B.” I open my eyes to the sound of his voice. It’s dark now, and I smell food. “Here. Eat some of this,” he says. I sit up as much as I can and move my hair out of my face. I smell smoke and River.

“You smell like cigarettes,” I tell him.

“Sorry.”

“I’m not complaining. For some odd reason, it comforts me. I guess because it reminds me of you.” He looks over my face, and I can tell he doesn’t know how to take that. I’m confusing him, and I need to stop. He picks up the spoon and blows on it before he puts it up to my mouth. I look at him before I taste the chicken broth. It’s warm and soothing. “Thank you,” I say, looking into his caring eyes. I’m saying that for more than just the soup.

“You’re welcome,” he responds like he knows, and he probably does.

***

The week passes, and I feel better. River went home when I could actually get out of bed, and now I miss him. I’m at the grocery store stocking up on junk food. I push my cart around, throwing in everything bad for me and everything delicious to my taste buds. After I check out, I head home, but somehow I end up on River’s street. I don’t know why, and I’m not sure what I’m doing when I pull up to his stoop and put my car in park. I’m lying. I know exactly what I’m doing. I want to be with him. I’m tired of this empty space inside me that I know only he can fill. I need his skin beneath my fingertips, his kiss, and his voice. I want all of him, so with a racing heart I grab a few bags from the back and get out of my car.

Walking up the steps, I hit the buzzer and take a shaky breath. I’m growing more nervous as the seconds pass and he doesn’t answer. Maybe he isn’t here, or worse, maybe he has moved on. The thought makes my throat close up, and I look down at the snow on the ground. I hear cars pass, and the wind shifts in the air. I sigh and turn around to leave, but stop when I see him leaning against his truck watching me. I bite my lip and shift my eyes.

“You didn’t wait long.”

“How long have you been standing there?” I ask.

“Long enough.” He pushes off the truck and walks toward me.

“What are you doing, B?”

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