More guilt bubbled up in my core. Dad was so trusting, even in the face of all my problems, and I took full advantage to hide behind my lies. I was a real piece of shit, but he just wouldn’t understand. No one ever did.
“I promise.”
After a beat, he looked placated and stood to leave. The tension in my body eased as the metaphorical bullet I’d just dodged whizzed right by me and back into the house along with Dad’s meddling.
“One thing though…” he started.
Fuck. So close.
“Maybe you should steer clear of the barn and the Hayes’ side of the property while you’re here. I saw Dawson’s truck over there, so I thought…”
“Thought what?” I asked cautiously. That innate protectiveness of Dawson sizzled under my skin and I subdued the urge to lash out.
“I thought it would be best if you didn’t run into him.”
“Why?” I asked angrily, swiveling to stare him down. “Why should I avoid my best friend?”
“Are you sure he’d still consider you his best friend?” Dad questioned and a lead weight dropped into my gut. “You’ve been back since winter break and to my knowledge, you haven’t reached out or talked to him since your…accident senior year. Isn’t that what you told me?”
The mention of the night that started us down this fucked up road squeezed my chest in an unforgiving vice. Guilt wracked me at the memory of waking up in that hospital bed and realizing what I had done…and what I had lost. Oblivious to my tormented thoughts, Dad pressed on.
“From what his parents told me recently, Dawson’s doing really well. He’s seemed to have moved on and so have you, so maybe it’s better for you both to continue on separate paths,” he said, and I could tell he was gearing up to impart some patented parental wisdom. “Now, you know I love Dawson. He’s a great kid, but I don’t want you getting wrapped up in him right now and neglect your health. You need to focus on yourself and doing well in school, not rekindling a relationship, even as friends. Iknow your mom and I didn’t give you much of a choice after what happened, but Dawson was really affected when you left. If he’s happy now, then perhaps the kindest thing is to leave him be.”
I sat stone-faced until he finally retreated back inside, leaving me to stew in silence. His words poured salt into the open wounds that littered my fucked up soul, dredging up every bit of self-loathing and regret that had built up over the last three and a half years. I had no one to blame but myself for losing Dawson, but the thought of him moving on from me and what we had shared made me equal parts nauseous and furious.
Even though I could tell he’d been lying back at the barn, it still stung to hear him be so apathetic about me being with other people. His song at the bar had proven that he still felt something for me. I’d seen it in those soulful eyes that were never able to hide the truth from me. The twisted part of me wanted his jealousy, if for nothing more than proof he hadn’t gotten over me.
I only wish my own outburst had been true, that I’d somehow gotten over what I’d done to him. That I’d somehow been able to wash my hands of the guilt I felt at leaving him the way I did and forgive myself.
As if I were capable of that. That would happen the day I moved on from Dawson, and that would only happen when my heart stopped beating.
It didn’t matter what I did, what I smoked, what I drank, or who I fucked, Dawson still invaded every thought and dream of mine since the day I left. I had managed to avoid him for damn near six months once I transferred to UT thanks to my temporary living arrangement with Dad. It had been rough as hell knowing that Dawson was so close to me again, yet I hadn’t been anywhere near ready to face him. Running into him that day at my apartment shocked the hell out of me.
Of all the sin joints in all the campuses in all the world, he had to walk into mine.
The last thing I had expected was for that blast from the past. I had only moved into that space a couple months before that after finally gaining Dad’s trust enough to move out of his house. I had relished in the freedom and solitude it brought me, both dreading and yearning for the moment I saw Dawson again. I could have contacted him, but I was stopped every time by the simple fact I couldn’t tell him the truth about why I had left. He’d never come near me again if he knew everything.
It wasn’t anything new. I’d accepted that I was better off alone. Losing the few friends I’d made in Huntsville had shown me that. The moment they had learned about the devil on my back, everything had changed. Daily texts dwindled to once a week, usual hangouts were cancelled, my calls were ignored, and discomfort bled into every look aimed my way. Then they disappeared altogether.
It didn’t take long for me to spiral out of control once I’d lost them all. Grades, social life, sanity. All of it went down in a headlong rush until I crashed.
Literally.
A nifty little equation of pain pills and insomnia with a tequila chaser was the perfect recipe for my unintended physics lesson involving my Audi and a big ass tree. The same Audi that had been gifted to me for my birthday a few months earlier by my mom and stepdad. That hadn’t been the first or even fifth time that they had to deal with the disastrous effects of my…condition.
In exchange for them keeping Dad in the dark about the incident, I moved back to Austin quickly and quietly with the promise that I’d start taking my medication again after the doctor they forced on me upped my dosage for the third time. They’d recruited Dad in their scheme to keep me “on track”which meant counted pills and a supervised living situation until I had proven I was back in control of myself.
It didn’t make a difference that I told them repeatedly I hated how the meds made me feel and that they didn’t really help. They didn’t give me control, they stole it from me. I loathed the side effects. Being on them, I was muted and dull to the point I didn’t recognize myself.
Shit, maybe that was a good thing. Who I had become wasn’t enough to keep people from leaving me. In some ways, I was thankful I had been the one to leave Dawson before he could do it himself. And I had no doubt in my mind he would have.
Dawson was better off without me. Once he understood the reality I lived with, he’d only see me as a sickness that couldn’t be cured.
I shookout the small pink pill onto my palm, despising the sight of it. It was a fickle friend who left me with as many problems as it solved. I dropped it in the toilet and flushed it down, instantly breathing a little easier. I hadn’t been so lucky yesterday morning when Dad had caught me with a pill in hand before he left for his flight, so down the hatch it went. I’d had half a mind to throw it back up the minute he left, but I couldn’t stand vomiting.
Two days later and I still had to remind myself that one pill wouldn’t screw me up, but I knew the dangers of messing with my meds, so I mentally scanned my body to reassure myself I was okay.
My mouth isn’t dry, my stomach is calm, my hands aren’t shaking or twitching…I’m fine. Everything is fine.
