Page 68 of Beautifully Scarred

I wrap the large towel around me and gesture for Jimmy to follow me. I lead him to the large circular lounger that has an overhang to keep off the blinding rays of the desert sun.

“Let’s sit here.” I crawl up and lean back against the cream-colored cushions, letting my legs extend in front of me.

Jimmy does the same, sitting to my left. He’s wearing a pair of camouflage shorts with large pockets and a T-shirt that fits him snuggly. Something stirs low in my belly and I recognize it as desire. I’m surprised—shocked really. I haven’t felt desire since I got sober.

I’ve always needed Jimmy, but this is the first time in forever that I’m aware of wanting him. Only for pleasure. Not to use sex to numb myself, or because it’s what he wants, or I want to manipulate him like that fifteen-year-old girl in my bedroom again.

I push that feeling aside. It will only complicate things right now. We’re trying to mend the damage I’ve done to our friendship.

“How are you?” he asks, shifting so that he’s facing me, leaning against the lounger, holding up his head with his hand.

“Better than the last time I saw you. I really think I’m starting to get somewhere in my therapy. The past isn’t as scary to talk about now.”

He trails his index finger down my jawline, and my eyes fight the desire to close. “I knew you could do it.”

“At least one of us did.” A dry laugh falls from me. “I’m not saying it’s easy. It’s not. I still have days when I know if there was anything I could get my hands on, I wouldn’t hesitate to self-medicate. But I’m more confident now that I can tackle my issues. For so long, I shut down as soon as anything from my past showed up in my head. I’m finding better ways to deal with stuff than making myself numb.”

“You’re a survivor. One day you’ll look back on this and it will be a distant memory.”

I shake my head. “No, I need to remember the pain I caused you, the pain my father caused me. If I forget, I’ll end up back in that place where I didn’t care whether I lived or died.”

He blanches. The old me would’ve backtracked, but the new me knows that I have to say what I’m feeling. I have no chance of staying sober if I repress my feelings.

“Lilah.” He takes my hand. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. I never should have pushed you away.” His voice breaks on his last few words.

A sharp, stabbing pain cracks in my chest. “It’s not your fault.” I squeeze his hand.

His gaze darts away from mine.

“Jimmy, look at me.”

He does, but his eyes are sad.

“You were right to do what you did. I was a mess, and I was screwing up your life. If you had been there, I might never have ODed, and I might never have gotten here.”

He shakes his head before I’m even done speaking. “No, I should’ve pushed you harder to stop. I should have sought help for you. Instead I cast you off with nowhere to go.”

“You know as well as I do that I wouldn’t have listened to you. We’d still be going through the same unhealthy cycle—you giving me everything and me taking advantage of you.” He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “No, I needed to hit rock bottom and almost die. I should be thanking you, because if you hadn’t done what you did, I would still be a lost girl who had no value for herself or her life.” Tears well in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I didn’t think I had any more tears left.

“Do you know that now? That you have value?” Hope fills his eyes.

The counselors warned us of this too. Our loved ones hoping rehab was like a Band-Aid and when we leave, we’re all healed up and ready to start our life. Sixty days isn’t long enough to make me love myself. The hope in his eyes makes me want to lie, but there’ve been too many lies between us.

“I’m working on it.”

He presses his lips together and nods.

“There’s something else I want to say… you can say I don’t need to apologize for pushing you away and what it eventually led to, and that’s fine. I’ll never feel that way, but I won’t bring it up again if that’s what you want. But there is something else I need to apologize for.” I slide my hand away from his, but he grips it harder. “Back in Virginia—”

“I don’t want to talk about that night. We promised we’dnevertalk about it.”

“I know, I know. It’s not that.” His eyes search mine. “I need to apologize for getting you into drugs in the first place. If it wasn’t for me, you never would’ve gotten a taste for it and your life would have gone a different way.”

A short burst of laughter escapes me.

He drops my hand and looks away.

I take his hand, and it lays limp in my palm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but do you honestly think I never would have turned to drugs or alcohol to numb myself? It was inevitable. It’s not your cross to bear.”

---