Page 85 of This Life and All the Rest
Mom and Trent think Lennon needs space.
I think they’re both idiots.
I didn’t just spend months in that fucking rehab getting clean to come home and find that Lennon has just fucked off to London without even an explanation. I didn’t get out just to find that all my plans have been shot to hell. She was supposed to come home, so I’m going to bring her back.
When I’m finally off the jet bridge, I practically sprint through Heathrow. I stop to piss and grab a coffee, then I jump in a taxi.
Fifty-fucking pounds to get from the airport to Lennon’s apartment. I haven’t worked for months, but I haven’t spent money, either. Not much to buy in a drug treatment facility.
It’s almost 10 p.m. by the time the taxi drops me off. I check the address one more time, take a few deep breaths, then take the stairs two at a time.
I find the door easily and knock twice. I wait thirty seconds, then knock again.
Silence.
I knock a third time, louder and faster, and still no one comes, so I turn around and take a seat by the door. I’ll wait here all night if I have to.
An hour passes and my stomach starts to ache. I haven’t eaten all day. I’m agitated as fuck, overtired, and now I’m hungry. None of these things are good for sobriety.
Fucking hell.
I take out another piece of gum and pop it in my mouth, but it doesn’t do shit, so I do the next best thing. I stand up and head out the door to find some cigarettes. I was a fucking idiot to think quitting now, after quitting everything else, was a good idea.
If I can’t rely on pills and booze, I need something. This nicotine gum isn’t cutting it.
I leave the apartment complex and choose a random direction based on lights and noise. Where there are people, there are cigarettes. Especially in Europe.
A few blocks down, I find a small pub and a crowd of people spilling out into the street. I stop by the first smoking person I see.
“Hey,” I say, forcing a charming grin, “can I bum one?”
The woman looks me over from head to toe, blowing out a cloud of smoke before taking a pack of cigarettes from her purse and holding it out to me.
“Thanks.”
I take the pack, shake out a cig, and before I even have it between my lips, she’s holding a lighter up for me. I lean toward her and light my cigarette, inhaling deeply as the end glows red. I let the smoke settle in my lungs, my body already going loose, then blow it out into the night air.
“I’ve got something a little stronger if you want,” she says to me. Her voice is raspy, sexy even, and the promise of something stronger sends chills over my skin.
“Nah. I’m good, but thanks.”
She shrugs and takes another drag, blowing the smoke out of her nose.
“Have a good night,” I say to her and turn to leave, when laughter stops me in my tracks.
I freeze and tilt my head to the side. I don’t even breathe as I listen. The crowd is loud, the music from the pub is spilling out the street, but I know what I heard.
A few seconds later, I hear it again.
It’s Lennon. I know it is.
I head in the direction I heard her laugh, an alleyway between the pub and the building beside it. As I push through the crowd, she laughs again, and if there weren’t so many people out here, I’d be sprinting.
I push through a few more people, and then I see her leaning up against the wall of the pub. Her hair is shorter, and she’s wearing more makeup than usual, but it’s her.
I walk toward her, but stop again when her face disappears. Someone stepped in the way.
No.
