What if he dies?
What if I wake up one morning and find Jude collapsed in my bathroom? My hallway? My bed? My stomach twists violently. I swallow hard, but it doesn’t go away. I know the uncertainties of loving someone with substance abuse problems. I’ve sat behind people who poured their frustrations and grief all over their canvases.
I love him. So much it hurts.
And even if it kills me one day, I don’t think I could ever realistically let him go.
Heather keeps picking at the edge of her smoothie cup with one perfect pink nail. We’re both a little quiet, seemingly finding comfort in each other’s presence. “Micah is hiding something, too,” she finally blurts. Her voice is tight, like she’s been thinking hard about it. “I just know it.”
The words are heavy, and I pause with the straw between my fingers. “What do you mean?”
She exhales, forearms braced on her knees. “He’s...different. He’s been a little more stressed and...cagey, lately. And whenever I mention Jude, he dodges like he’s been trained to, or something. I keep asking myself if I’m overreacting, but I’m not. I can feel him slipping. ”
That twisting feeling in my stomach sharpens.
Because the second she says it, I picture Jude last night—the darkness behind his eyes, the urgency in his hands, the way he kissed me like he was panicking. I’m thinking of Jude’s eyes when he lies. The way he changes the subject every time I get near Nolan’s name, or Adriana’s, for that matter. Dots I’ve been refusing to connect start sliding into place all on their own. I don’t want them to. I don’t want to see the picture they form.
Heather scoots closer, bumping her knee gently against mine. “What happened last night with Jude...it’s not good, Emma.”
I stare down at my paint-stained gray leggings and find a dried black acrylic smear by my knee, my thumb brushing over it back and forth. “I know he’s not okay,” I say quietly. “I just...don’t know what to do. He doesn’t even seem to want to set up that meeting with Rook anymore. Something’s changed.” There’s a long pause, the kind where the silence screams a truth neither of us wants to hear.
Heather’s hand finds mine. “I’m getting the guys Suboxone.”
My head snaps up. “You are?”
She nods. “It’s a medication for opioid addiction. It stabilizes you. Helps you climb out. I talked to someone, and I can get some. I don’t want to wait until one of them…” Her voice cracks. She looks away, blinking fast.
I move my hand to hers, mirroring her earlier gesture. “Okay,” I whisper. “Okay. That’s good. That’s—wow. How soon can you get it?”
“I talked to one of the other nurses at work, and she told me her son uses it. He’s been clean for years, but still has some just in case one of his friends need it. I can get some from her until I can get them in to see a doctor and get a proper prescription. I also have Narcan.”
I bite my lip. “Do you think getting them on the stuff is realistic?”
Heather shrugs. “Micah said it’s a little more complicated. Nolan and Adriana expect them to use when they go do performances. They drop off the drugs and keep them hooked. Not to mention, Adriana…”
I tense. “And Adriana likes to assault Jude when he’s high,” I finish for her, and the words taste wildly bitter on the way out.“Yeah, it’s the only way she can get close enough to sleep with him.”
She nods, but her gaze drifts toward my easel, unfocused.
I clear my throat, desperate to change the subject from that bitch Adriana. I’ve never actually wanted to kill someone before, but I’ve pictured myself beating her to death with a sledgehammer.
“You’re falling in love with Micah, aren’t you?” I ask quietly.
Her brown eyes widen, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah.” Her voice cracks on the word.
I sigh.
“We’re running out of time,” she murmurs after a few moments of silence. “For both of them. I can feel it.” Her voice trembles.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I can, too.”
After work, Heather convinced me to go to the gym with her to work out some of our frustrations. I’m grateful for it. Usually, I loathe the gym, but today, I can tell that I need it.
The air smells like metal and rubber and sweat, and Heather’s still talking through her plan while she switches between machines. I nod along, trying to hold onto the glimmer she’s offering me. I text Jude while she’s in the locker room:
Come over tonight? I want to talk to you about something important. I think it could really help you. I love you.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Then nothing.
