Page 123 of Rivals
“Uh, hi. I’m Connor, and I’m an addict,” the guy with the coffee says.
“Hi, Connor,” everyone says back.
“It was mostly heroin. I’ve messed with some other stuff. I haven’t been an addict that long. I almost died in the hospital because the heroin I had was laced with fentanyl.” A few people nod like they know what he’s talking about. “It was the wake-up call I needed. I realized I didn’t want to die, yet I was the one that was killing myself.” He laughs to himself. “It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? You can’t deal with the life around you, so you use the drugs to drown it out. Then, when you almost kill yourself, you realize you want to live. My parents were heartbroken when they saw me in the hospital. I lied to them. I lied to everyone. I don’t want to be this way anymore. I want to try and live life. I don’t know what that looks like, but I know this is the first step…” he trails off.
“I don’t want to be numb anymore. I don’t want to be high anymore. I want to try things differently. I guess that is what I’m trying to say. So, yeah. Uh, thanks.”
“Thank you, Connor,” the leader says.
The room stays quiet, and I try not to stare at people, but I want to know if anyone else will speak up. I’m here, and that’s enough for me. I’m not interested in telling my story. I don’t know these people. What is said in this room stays in this room may be true, but I don’t trust the people in it. I will keep my mouth shut about their stories. It’s what I would want someone to do for me.
“Hi, I’m Michelle, and I’m an addict,” a woman says.
“Hi, Michelle,” the group parrots back. I look up at her, and she’s got to be at least in her fifties, maybe older. Her skin is wrinkled, and she looks like she smokes a pack a day. She coughs and sighs.
“I didn’t have a preference for what drug to do. I did them all, as many of you know. I uh…” she pauses for a moment. I peek at her under my eyelashes, and I can tell she’s working hard to say what she needs to say. Everyone stays silent, giving her the room to build up the courage.
“I relapsed last week. It was the day after our meeting. I just…I needed something. Work makes me want to throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge. I just wanted it to not be so hard for once, ya know? I wanted to coast a little bit. I knew it would break my sobriety, but I snorted the coke anyway. So, here I am. I guess I’m at day one now.” She inhales a shaky breath. “I know they won’t let me see my son for a bit now. I have to be clean for a month. He’s seventeen, and he lives with his dad, but still…I know I messed up, and I regret it. I guess this is my penance,” she says.
The room stays quiet again, and it seems like she’s done. “Thank you for sharing that, Michelle. We’re glad you’re here, and you’re right; this might be day one, but it’s day one in the right direction toward seeing your son again.” She nods and sniffles.
The rest of the hour goes on like that. People share their stories, their relapses, and their desire to do something, really anything to change. But some were able to beat the craving. As sad as it was, I felt a little less alone in that room. For the first time, I felt like I wasn’t the only one.
I’ve been thankful ever since Lachlan tossed the cocaine down the toilet because I know I would have used it. I would have used it to disappear from my mind. I think it would have put me in an even worse position.
The leader, who never introduced himself, closes us out, and everyone stands to put their chairs away. I put mine after the older woman who relapsed and slipped out the door. The fall Brooklyn air cools my skin, and I take a deep breath. I make my way back home as the sun begins to set.
I fumble with the keys in the door, and it swings open. “Hey, baby, I was wondering where you were. Are you ok?” he asks. I hum and lock the door behind me. I hesitated, telling him I was going to try NA. I didn’t want him to get his hopes up in case I didn’t like it. Or if he knows I’m going and I relapse, I don’t want to see the disappointment. I don’t think I could take it. I am aware I put Lachlan in a terrible position in Italy. I put myself in it, too. It’s time for me to use those lessons. I love Lachlan, and I want those words to really mean something, which means I need to stay sober. I don’t want to put my love for Lachlan to the test.
I stop and glance at the painting Lachlan, and I made with our bodies. Perhaps that can be my token of some kind, though I did do drugs after it. I could use it as my reminder that life sober, with Lachlan, is a very good thing.
I toss my keys on the counter, and Lachlan returns to the stove, bringing my attention back to him. “You cooked?” I ask. He stirs something in a pot, and I watch his muscles move under his old t-shirt. Each section of muscle expands and contracts with the movement, reminding me of the statue of David. I am mesmerized by him, and I still can’t believe I can call him mine.
“I did. I found a recipe online. I figured it would be nicer than ramen, and it’s enough to last for three meals.” He seems kind of excited about it, so I smile encouragingly.
He puts the lid back on the pot, spins around, and leans against the counter. “So, where were you, little bird? You’re usually home by the time I get back.” I shrug, trying to figure out what to tell him. I don’t want to lie.
“I was taking a walk.” I glance at him. He must know I’m lying. He can read me like a book. His lips are thin, and he nods once.
“Are we going to keep watchingThe Vampire Diaries?”
“Yeah, I’m down for a couple of episodes. I have a morning shift tomorrow.”
It’s one in the morning, and we are still glued to the stupid show. Lachlan yawns while his fingers play with my hair. I’m tucked close to his side. I’ve hardly paid attention to the show. Lachlan’s hands are constantly distracting me.
I turn my face to look at his profile and lean in to run my nose up his jaw, breathing in his detergent and hint of paint. “Did you make something today?” He shrugs and won’t look at me.
“Lach?” I prod. I’ve wanted to ask him about his dad and if he responded to the text or maybe even spoke to him. But it seems like tonight is a night we are keeping secrets from each other. Something twists in my gut, and I try to brush it off. I tell myself I will tell him soon. I just want to try for at least a month.
“I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed,” he says as he unfolds himself from the couch. I move to the side and watch him walk away. I’m not into the show now and don’t want to watch it without him. So I flip off the TV and get myself ready for bed. I have to be up in four hours as it is.
I close my eyes and sigh into my pillow. The bed dips, and strong arms come around my middle as Lachlan pulls me into his chest. His arms tighten to make sure I’m there, then he relaxes. “I was trying to brainstorm ideas for our last piece. I got the email for the due date and details.”
“Oh,” I say quietly. I haven’t looked at my email since school ended. I don’t know what the point is since Lachlan checks his.”We have about two months to finish this one, but they gave us a theme this time.”
I sigh into the pillow. “What’s the theme?”
“Light,” he says into my hair.
