b.Keep an eye on the person’s habits.But I didn’t want to keep an eye on him, I wanted to help him!
c.Seek professional help.I didn’t think that would work in Jack’s case. He wouldn’t go to a psychologist. Not now, anyway.
d.Talk to the person.That was obvious, but it sure wasn’t easy.
e.Hold an intervention with loved ones and friends. I mentioned this to Will, but he told me Jack would get defensive and it would make everything worse. And he was probably right.
f.Never stop being a helper, and never lose hope. I guess that was my only choice.
I was glancing at these notes in the back of Will’s car one day when I heard Sue yawn. We were on our way to a party Lana had invited us to that morning. It was the birthday of some friend of hers we didn’t know the first thing about. As I adjusted my skirt, I thought to myself that I wasn’t looking forward to the evening. But at least Lana and I got along better than we had the year before.
We walked into the sorority house, which still reminded me of a museum, and I took off my jacket and stared down at the violet top Shannon had bought me a few months ago when she invited me out with her and her on-again, off-again boyfriend—he was off-again just then, and soon enough, she met someone else. I hadn’t actually worn it before that night, so this was its debut. It was a little tight, but I thought it looked good with my black Converse—no way I was making the same mistakewith the platform boots again. I hadn’t put on much makeup, and I’d pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I wanted to look good but in a casual way, since I wasn’t interested in meeting anyone.
“Hey, guys!” Lana called out, coming down the stairs. She was dressed in a skimpy red dress that fit her like a glove. “Welcome, welcome. You can leave your coats over here with everyone else’s.”
She hugged all of us except for Sue, who stiffened like a cat ready to pounce when she got close. Then she guided us upstairs. People were crisscrossing the hallways going from room to room. The ballroom was packed, maybe even fuller than the last time I’d seen it. There was a poster that readHappy birthday!on one wall, but no one seemed to care who the birthday girl actually was. They were all just there to get drunk.
I leaned in toward Lana as we walked and said, “Looks like people are having fun.”
Glancing back over her shoulder, she responded, “Yeah, this is the first party we’ve had since New Year’s. We got noise complaints for our last one, and the school threatened us with probation. But finally we decided to hell with it. There’s no way they’ll actually do anything.”
Looking at a group of guys passing a pitcher of beer around and drinking straight from it, I wasn’t sure she was right. I could easily imagine things getting out of control there.
“I guess you’re here because of Ross,” Lana said.
That took me by surprise. No one had mentioned Jack. We were in the kitchen when she said that, and my roommates were getting their drinks. Lana continued, “He’s here. He’s with his, um, new friends. I just assumed you had come to see him.”
New friends?I could already imagine what that meant. And as far as I was concerned, they sure as hell weren’t his friends. A friend was someone who’d try to stop you when they saw you were losing control, not someone who’d push you to act even stupider. I was angry. I wondered ifthese were the same people he’d been with all those nights when he hadn’t come home, and I tried to imagine what kind of horrible things they’d gotten into.
“Where is he?”
Lana motioned toward a small room with sofas and bookshelves, cushions on the floor, and lots of people sitting around a coffee table. Baggies were spread out on it, and a blue bong was standing in the middle of it. The scent was repulsive, and as soon as I walked in, I felt dizzy. They’d closed all the windows, probably to keep their precious weed smoke from blowing away.
The guys looked high as hell and were joking and laughing as they cut up lines. A few feet away, a group of girls were giggling and passing around a joint. Jack was sitting in a corner, eyes bloodshot, smoking. Just a cigarette, I hoped, but who knew. His look, partly somber and partly amused, turned blank as he saw me enter. A big lug with brown hair asked him, “Hey, dude. Do you know her?”
With a sneer, Jack told him, “Yeah. That’s my mom.”
The rest of the group thought that was funny, but Jack just frowned, stared away, tried to pretend I wasn’t there. He must have thought I’d shown up to ruin his night. But I didn’t care how mad he was. I stepped past the circle of losers around the coffee table and stood in front of him, forcing him to acknowledge me, however much he hated it.
“What?” he asked.
“Don’t what me,” I said. “Is this why you haven’t responded to a single message I’ve sent you? So you can sit around getting high with a bunch of douchebags?”
Everyone was laughing at me. Well, to hell with them. Jack took another hit of whatever he was smoking, and I remembered how pissed he had been that time I’d smoked weed with his brother. How the tables had turned.
“Why should I respond to your messages?”
“Is it really asking too much for you to let me know you’re OK?” I fired back. “If you’re too childish to tell me, the least you could do is let Will know. He’s worried, too. Is that so hard?”
He blew a cloud of smoke in my face. Everyone around me thought that was the funniest thing they’d ever seen. The big guy asked if I was Jack’s girlfriend, and he responded, “Yeah, she wishes.” My cheeks got hot as I felt everyone’s contempt. I wanted to remind him of how much he’d cried when I left. But that was a low blow, and it would have made me feel guilty. And I tried to tell myself this was the drugs talking, not him.
“I’m his ex,” I replied calmly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Seems like you should get over him,” some guy said, and more joined in, telling me to leave him alone. To relax. To stop being an uptight bitch. And far from defending me, Jack said, “Yeah, that’s good advice, Jen. Why don’t you worry about yourself and just let me be?”
I felt my eyes narrowing. I understood him getting mad, treating me badly, threatening to kick me out. It hurt, and I knew I’d never do anything like that to him, but I could accept that he was bitter and angry. What I didn’t understand was his carefree attitude, as if we’d never been anything, as if we’d had sex and that was it and now he couldn’t care less about me. I had mattered to him, and now he was using me to get laughs out of a bunch of weirdos who were no one compared to me. At least, not to him. Maybe we hadn’t stayed together that long when we were going out, but it had been intense, and I knew how deep inside it had touched both of us.
I turned around, walked to an ice bucket, grabbed a beer, and sat across from Jack. The group chantedoooooh!!and I responded, “What? I thought I was supposed to relax. Well, this is me relaxing.”
