I give Waylynn one last squeeze and kiss the side of her head before heading into the locker room.
HISTORY
Waylynn
Memphis invitesBates to eat with us again after we spend half an hour walking around and talking, mostly about the game, but he declines. We end up leaving him at the corner of State Street and walk toward my house.
The sidewalks are filled with people. Memphis has the hat pulled low on his head so it’s harder to see his face, and I’m not too worried someone will spot him, but I still can’t get over how different he looks in jeans and a T-shirt.
“What?” he asks without even looking over at me. He could tell I was staring.
“You just look different,” I admit.
“Do you want me to change?” He peeks at me from the corner of his eye.
“No, of course not. You look…handsome both ways. In jeans or slacks. Whatever you want to wear,” I ramble.
“Good to know. Should we see if we can get a table anywhere?” he asks as we walk past packed bars and restaurants.
“We can go home,” I offer, not wanting to push our luck any more than we are. If we run into anyone now, he could tell them he was walking his brother’s friend home, but eating at a restaurant would be difficult to explain.
“Fine by me. Are you sure we’re not imposing?”
“Yes, but all I can promise is some frozen pizza or something. Unless you want to go to the grocery store? I never remember to take anything out of the freezer.” I haven’t gotten used to cooking dinner for myself.
“Frozen pizza, ramen, I don’t care, I’m just hungry,” he replies.
“It looks like it’s going to take longer than usual to get home,” I comment, looking at the people and traffic holding up the streets.
“I used to avoid game days,” he mumbles and puts his phone to his ear. “Hey.” He pauses. “We haven’t even made it home yet. Honestly, you might want to walk or grab a scooter if you can find one. It’s probably the quickest option.”
Memphis pauses again, I’m assuming to let Oz speak, then says, “We’ll plan better next week. Call if you end up needing us to come.” He hangs up a few seconds later.
The foot traffic thins out once we get off State and then tapers off even more when we turn down the street to my neighborhood. When the house comes into view, I sigh. Not only am I looking forward to the air-conditioning, but I also really need to pee.
I do a little speed walking to get to the door faster. “Do you mind getting the alarm so I can run to the bathroom?” I look over my shoulder as I’m unlocking the door.
“No, it’s fine.” He grins.
Memphis
Waylynn tosses her bag on the counter and dashes out of the room. Her purse falls to the side and some of her things roll out onto the counter. The orange bottle of pills spinning in circles draws my attention more than the other items and brings back bad memories. My mother’s bag was always filled with them. Most of the bottles didn’t even have her name, or if they did, the pills inside weren’t what was prescribed.
I glance toward the doorway to make sure Waylynn isn’t returning then pick up the bottle. The pills inside make a soft rattle. The label has been peeled off, leaving a patch of sticky residue in its place. Damn it.
I twist the top to see what’s inside, but it’s just tiny little circles. I have no idea what they are. The door upstairs closes, and I know I’m out of time unless I want to confront her right now. I tuck the bottle back into her purse, but I’m pissed, and she must read it on my face because she walks into the room slowly, as if she’s hesitant.
“Everything okay?” She tugs on the hem of her jersey. What I might have thought was a nervous gesture before feels more like she’s hiding something. I look into her eyes. They seem as clear as usual. Is she on something right now?
“Your bag fell.” I step to the side, revealing the pens and papers that slipped free along with her unzipped purse. Her eyes widen, and she rushes over to shove everything back inside.
“What a mess.” She tries to sound like she’s half laughing, but there’s something in her voice, a tremor that I might have chalked up to nerves before, but now I can’t stop thinking about the pills.
I can’t lose someone to addiction again, I won’t. I think about walking out the door and never looking back, but my feet feel rooted to the tile. Not only do I not want to walk away from her, but I don’t know if Oz would, even if she was using. He doesn’t remember things the way I do, and I’m to blame for that. I made sure he had food when I didn’t, and I made sure to keep him away from them when they were mad at the world because they couldn’t get another hit. I watched Mom waste away until she was nothing but skin and bones, covered in sores and shit I don’t even want to think about.
I let my eyes roam over Waylynn. Her full hips and thighs look nothing like my mom’s. The small, soft swell of her stomach and breasts are part of what drew me to her. She looks healthy, but not all addicts look the same.
“Um…” Waylynn reaches across her body and grabs the elbow of her other arm.
