“You really are asking for my fist to make nice with your face,” I said.
“Whatever. I’ll come by next week and bring you your cash. Then we can do this all over again. Should be a blast,” Marco said, then made a high-pitched squeal.
“I haven’t said I’ll do it,” I pointed out.
“You haven’t said you won’t either,” Marco threw back.
I felt it. That moment when I started to move backward was almost imperceptible, but it was there all the same. I felt almost powerless to stop it.
“Yeah, yeah,” I agreed finally.
“Cool, man. It’ll be good to have you back,” he said, and he sounded like he actually meant it.
“Sure,” I responded, and knew that deep down I agreed with him.
I walked back up to my apartment and picked up the letters that had been delivered through the mail slot. Bills. And more bills. In a sudden flash of rage I crumpled them into a ball and tossed them across the room. I sat down on the couch and turned on the television, only to find static. I tried to flip the channel, but they were all the same.
I figured that somewhere in that pile of overdue notices was my cable bill. Unpaid.
I turned off the television and threw the remote against the wall. I watched with satisfaction as it smashed into pieces, the batteries rolling across the floor.
I picked up the newspaper I had left on the coffee table. There was nothing there. Nothing for a guy with limited work experience and no college degree. Even with the financial aid I had scraped together to cover the rest of my classes, I’d still be short to cover the total cost. I was getting really tired of worrying about money and whether I’d be forced to eat ramen for the fifth night in a row. Or whether I’d have enough to help Landon the way I wanted to.
How did I think I’d ever be able to start a life with Aubrey if I had nothing real to offer her? I was slowly becoming a pathetic fool living on delusional dreams and nothing else. I thought of Gash’s offer to come back to the club, and I knew I had very few choices. And having no options was a dangerous position for me to be in.
I’m still here, Maxx. In the back of your drawer. I’m not going anywhere.
The voice teased me. The need crawled like a snake up my throat, making it hard to breathe. I got to my feet and went into the bathroom, quickly running the water in the sink. I splashed cold water on my face and rubbed my eyes.
I braced myself against the smooth porcelain of the base and stared at the man looking back at me from the mirror. I wished I could say I liked the person I saw there. But I couldn’t.
Sure, my eyes were clear. Gone was the sickly sallow pallor of my skin. I had gained some weight since my stint in rehab, mostly because I was eating cheap shitty food full of fat and chemicals, because that was all I could afford.
But the person I saw there, in the smeared glass, looked tired and lost and more than a little depressed.
He looked defeated.
I pushed away from the counter and rushed back to my bedroom, slamming the door shut.
I ripped open the drawer and pulled out my socks and boxers, throwing them onto the floor. I found the tiny plastic bag I had put there weeks before. The two pills taunted me.
I wanted them so much it hurt. I wanted to cry and shout and kick shit. Then I found myself running back down the hallway with that bag clenched tight in my fist, as though the devil himself were chasing me.
I pushed open the door to the bathroom and dropped to my knees in front of the toilet. I dumped the remaining contents of the bag into the water and with shaking hands flushed. I fell to my side, curling my knees to my chest, and sobbed.
I hated myself for still wanting them, and for being so weak that I had almost given in.
Most of all I hated myself for the brief moment when I had felt that those drugs were my only choice. That they were all I needed.
Trembling and sick, I crawled out to the living room and found my phone. I dialed a number I had programmed and had never used.
I put the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. “Recovery hotline, this is James. How can I help you?”
I took a deep breath and didn’t say anything. I thought about hanging up.
The road stretched out ahead of me, and the choices I made now would define how I moved forward.
It terrified me.
