Page 144 of The First Time
She nods. "I looked into it. UCI has one of the best acting programs in California. I'm going to stay there. Mal offered to pay my tuition if my parents get fussy about it. But they won't." She shifts closer. Her arm curls around mine. "They don't notice anything I do."
"I get that."
"It sucks, huh?" Her voice gets low, vulnerable. "Do you ever see your parents?"
"At Thanksgiving and Christmas. Not last year." I was just out of rehab come Christmas. "We talk on the phone about once a month."
Piper nods. "Do you miss them?"
"No."
"Never?"
I shake my head. But that isn't quite right. I do miss certain things about them. "We catch up every few months."
With anyone else, I'd change the subject and be done with it. With Piper, that feels wrong. I want to share every ugly thing with her.
Even if it makes her run away.
She says nothing, simply runs her fingers over my forearm. It's the kind of gentle touch that means nothing from a stranger and everything from a lover.
"I miss how things used to be. When Dad loved Mom and Mom was happy." I point to the white stars that stand out against the dark sky. "Mom used to have a spark about her. She loved her job—she made fancy clothes and costumes—as much as I love music. As much as you love acting."
"Yeah?" Piper leans closer.
"Yeah." I shift so I can wrap my arms around her. It's an instinct, but it feels right. It feels more right than anything has in a while. "At first, when Dad got scarce, she poured herself into her job. But one day, she just stopped. She quit, lost her passion for it. Lost herself. Then she started using and that spark never had a chance."
"I'm sorry." Her voice is honest, sweet.
Anyone else, it would feel like a bullshit platitude. But I really believe Piper is sorry I've hurt.
She reaches up to run her fingers through my hair.
Fuck, that feels good.
"Have you ever tried to get her help?" she asks.
"A few times." It was a long time ago. "She wasn't interested." I slide my arm under the crook of Piper's neck and use it to pull her closer. "Mom made her decision. She loves the high more than she loves clothes. More than she loves her life. More than she loves me."
Piper looks up at me with those earnest blue eyes. "You really think it's like that?"
No, I know it's like that. "I've been there."
"Is it that good?"
"It's more that being sober, and having all those thoughts you're running from, is that bad."
"What were you running from?"
"Knowing my mom is going to die from an overdose one day. Knowing I can't do shit about it. Knowing that it's all bullshit, that my friends only like me cause I've always got drugs." I look down at the sand. "A million things. It becomes this cycle. You hate yourself for being weak enough to give in, but you can't take the self-loathing. You need a break from your head."
"Do you still feel like that?"
"Not anymore, but I still... I still don't know what to do when I want out of my head."
"You play?"
I nod. "Or work out."
