Had he really forgotten everything from the day before? I reminded him that I’d asked Chris about getting a room in the dorms, that there was nothing available, that I’d found him drunk at the bar last night, that I’d seen him doing drugs. I tried not to sound judgmental, but I could tell he was ashamed. And he covered up for it by being rude, telling me, “Whatever, I’m busy and I need some time to myself.”
“What you need, Ross, is to stop whatever it is you’re doing. Do you not find it the least bit disturbing that you can’t even remember what happened yesterday? That you completely forgot that I was here?”
“Leave me alone! Who do you think you are, my mom? Go deal with your own problems. From what I remember, you had more than a few.”
“I don’t think I’m your mom, but you’re hurting yourself,” I said. “You need help.”
“And you need to learn when you’re not wanted.”
“You’re not going to provoke me, Ross. I’ve got three brothers. I’vespent my whole life learning to deal with that. And I’m not going to change the subject either. You’re trying to make me a villain so you don’t have to face your issues. I’ve been in therapy, I know about these strategies. Maybe you should give it a try…”
I was careful not to raise my voice, and I tried to pat his shoulder to reassure him. Bad decision. He jerked away, almost frightened, and said, “Don’t touch me!”
Then he told me to get out, asked me why I was bothering him, asked if there wasn’t somebody else whose life I could ruin. That hurt, but I tried not to let it get to me. “I want to help you,” I said. “But you have to accept me for me to do that.”
“I don’t want your help! I don’t want anybody’s help! I’m tired of being treated like a baby who can’t take care of himself! I know what I’m doing and I’m perfectly in control. Now where the hell is my damn jacket?”
He stopped. His chest was rising and falling dramatically. He collapsed in the middle of the room, pulled his knees to his chest, and started tugging at his hair so hard his knuckles turned white. “Shit, shit, shit!” he said.
I was taken off guard and needed a few moments before I had the courage to approach him.
Of course he couldn’t find his jacket. It was in the bedroom, because I’d worn it home from the bar. I wanted to tell him, but then I stopped, thinking maybe the jacket didn’t matter as much as a little bag of white powder that might be in one of the pockets. I crouched next to him, rubbed his hands to keep him from tearing out his own hair, and said, “Jack, what’s going on?”
“Shut up,” he grunted. “Leave me alone. Just go.”
“I’m not going to leave you on your own like this. I’m trying to help you. But I need you to tell me how. And I need you to be honest with me about what’s in the jacket.”
I was surprised that his anger subsided for a moment. His bodyslackened, and he shook his head as he stared at the floor. “I fucked it all up, Jen,” he murmured.
I hugged him and tried to reassure him. “It’s probably not as bad as it seems.”
“It is, though. You don’t understand.”
“Then tell me. Help me. Please.”
For nearly a minute, he didn’t speak. Then, finally, he admitted, “I owe someone money.”
I hadn’t expected that. And from his tone, I had to assume he wasn’t talking about a little loose change. Hoping to encourage him, I reminded him, “Yeah, but I heard you have a movie coming out, right? Once that happens, you’ll have more money than you’ll know what to do with…”
“I wish,” he responded. “I spent everything. And the premiere isn’t happening yet, and I won’t make another cent until then. Plus, what if it bombs? What if no one wants to see it?”
“Didn’t you have a streaming deal or something?”
“My YouTube stuff. That’s over. I haven’t made any real money off that in forever.”
“Is it urgent?” I asked, and when he nodded, I went on: “What will happen if you don’t pay?”
He didn’t tell me, but from the look on his face, I could tell it wouldn’t be good.
“I’ve got two hundred on me. Would that work for now? I owe you way more than that for all you’ve done for me. I never paid you rent or anything,” I told him.
He was hesitant, and for a moment he argued with me, but I didn’t give ground, instead running back to his room and grabbing the cash out of my pants. I brought his jacket back with it. When he asked if I was sure it was OK, I responded, “Look, I’ve had two jobs for the past year. I’m not rich, but this won’t bankrupt me, I promise you.”
He thought it over, then accepted. As he counted the bills, he said, “I’ll pay you back.”
I agreed, but it didn’t matter to me. Even if it was just this once, I was glad I could be the one helping him out of a jam. Now neither of us seemed sure what to say. He was calm again, and I was nervous. I decided it was better to leave him on his own. I tossed his jacket on the couch and told him, “Get some rest, Jack, you look like hell.”
I think he might have mumbledsurein response.
