“Wow. You aresoromantic.”
“My fear of getting sick is stronger than the after-sex-romance moment.”
Laughing, I bury my face in the crook of her neck. “If I give you a sweater, can we cuddle some more?”
“Yeah.”
I roll away from her and give her space. “In the dresser. Last drawer.”
Paisley crawls off the bed. Her naked feet make their way across the parquet. I close my eyes and wait. Hear her opening the drawer. Hear her hold her breath. I’m wondering why until I hear another noise. The sound of glass on glass.
I sit up straight. I want to do something, something to reverse this moment, but it’s too late.
Paisley turns around. She’s looking at me and there is nothing, absolutelynothingleft of the bliss we just shared.
Her expression is one of pure disgust.
39
Gunpowder Is Feeding Your Monsters
Paisley
“You can’t be serious, right?” The glass vials are heavy in my hand. They weigh next to nothing but feel as if they were pushing me down. “Please, Knox, tell me you’re not this dumb. You simply cannot be serious.”
Knox doesn’t move. He’s sitting straight up in bed, the bedspread a huge ball between his legs, staring at me open-mouthed.
I look back into the drawer, dig through his socks and boxers, and can’t believe how many ampules and syringes there are. “You’re insane. Completely insane.” I hold the little bottles under my nose as if I didn’t know what they were. “Testosterone. Androstenedione. Are you crazy, Knox?Are you crazy?”
The shrill tone of my voice seems to tear him back out of his state of shock. Knox jumps out of bed and pulls on a pair of jogging pants. Then: heavy steps across the floor, grabs the stuff out of my hand, tosses it back in the drawer. The sound it makes as he closes it echoes through the air.
“That’s got nothing to do with you.”
I laugh. “Oh, really? Really? Am I supposed to say: ‘How lovely,Knox, that you’re taking the illegal route to success! How lovely that you’re experimenting with your health!’”
“I’m successful because I’m talented.”
“And because you’re chemically enhanced.”
Knox snorts. “That’s bullshit, Paisley. As if none of the others would take steroids. Not everybody plays by the rules when they want to win. That’s how life goes.”
“That’s howyourlife goes,” I correct him. “Snowboarders don’t engage in doping, Knox. Did anyone ever tell you otherwise? That any of the others shoot that shit?” The answer is written on his face. “No. No one. And you know why? Because none of them are that dumb. Snowboarders have got to be in tune with their body and mind; they’ve got to be completely concentrated on what they do. Bigger muscles might bring you some strength, but this stuffweakensyou overall. One false move on the pipe, just one slip in your body, and your whole career is shot.You’dbe shot.”
He’s grinding his teeth. At first I think he’s not going to answer, but then his nostrils flare and his mouth opens. “Dad wants me to be the best.”
Dad wants, Dad wants, Dad wants…
“Yeah, Knox, but what doyouwant? Do you really intend to do this kind of harm to your body, maybe making it impossible to have kids or causing a heart attack or something elsejust to please your dad?”
“You have no idea, Paisley. I’ve got to.”
“You’re right, I really don’t have any idea why you’reso goddamn dumb!” With every word I punch him in the chest, but Knox doesn’t move an inch. I am so angry that I’m starting to feel hot. “But I’m pretty damn sure your dad doesn’t want you to dope!”
“He doesn’t care as long as I win.”
“Sure, convince yourself of that. Keep on finding new excuses for why you can’t give up youroh-wow-I’m-a-superstarlife althoughyou don’t want to live it at all. But really, Knox, if you don’t start living the life you want to live, then you’re going to go down.”
“Paisley, stop. Please. I need you.”
