“Here,” he says, indicating what I think is an apartment building on the edge of the screen. “That’s Lucky’s place. He’s got a unit on the main floor. I don’t know what the number is, but …” he trails off with a grimace. “You’ll know it when you see it.”
“And Riley will be there?”
He offers me a sad smile. “Chances are pretty good.”
I rattle off my phone number, and Jeff texts me the GPS pin, wishing me luck and warning me to be careful.
And as I move down the hall, my stomach clenching with nausea, I wonder just what I might be walking into.
Istareupatthenondescript building. It’s an ugly tan brick that looks to be about five stories tall. The surrounding neighborhood is as the map indicated—a small collection of residential buildings at the edge of an industrial area comprised mostly of what appear to be factories and warehouses. If I had to guess, I’d say quite a few of the businesses down the south side of this street have failed, with many of the buildings looking either run-down or completely deserted.
A chill runs through me that has little to do with the weather, given the warm, late-August evening, and I cross my arms over my chest as I study the peeling brown metal door to what I gather was once a lobby, but through the adjoining window, I can see is now little more than a trash-filled vestibule. I bite my lip in apprehension as I consider actually entering this place. If it weren’t for the dull bass beat of music I can feel more than hear originating from somewhere inside, and the sickly-looking woman propped up in a semi-seated position against the dinghyhole-ridden drywall, I would have thought this building to be abandoned as well.
Jeff warned me not to come here, and I can see why. I hesitate a moment longer debating the wisdom of my decision, but then I’m reminded of my growing concern for Riley, a feeling that’s managed to temporarily overshadow my hurt and anger since learning of his removal from the dorm. I knew he’d been having problems, that he wasn’t in a good place mentally, but I’d let my own fear and insecurities eclipse all thoughts of what he might be going through once I felt him starting to pull away. Even if I don’t get the answers I want tonight or the closure I need, at the very least, I’m determined to lay eyes on him for the first time in …
Inover six months.
Holy fuck.
I mean, I knew it had been that long, but also … I hadn’t actually allowed myself to think about the time we’d spent apart in any kind of definitive chronological accounting. I guess that doesn’t make much sense, but bottom line? I’ve been living in denialsville.
That’s right. Population: me.
But, no longer. I came here for a reason, and I’m not leaving without seeing the man who broke me, one last time.
So with a deep breath and a resolute squaring of my shoulders, I grip the cool handle and pull the heavy door towards me.
My ears are instantly assaulted by the loud electronic music that’s been reverberating through to the exterior. The stringy-haired woman on the floor cracks an eye at me as I step across the threshold, and I think she lets out a moan, though it’s nearly impossible to say for sure given the decibel level in here. I’m not necessarily the timid girl I was before I met Riley, but I won’t deny my nerves are frayed to the max as I scurry across the room, giving the woman as wide a berth as the small space allows.
The lobby opens into a dimly lit hallway. Jeff had said I’d know Lucky’s unit when I saw it, and I suspect that’s true as I move cautiously toward the origin of the obnoxious music. There are red Solo cups strewn along my path, and multiple apartments I pass have their doors hanging open. Smoke is heavy in the air, and the overwhelming scent of pot stings my nose. A woman with spiky blue hair stumbles in my direction, bouncing a shoulder off the nearby wall before she manages to redirect herself into one of the open units. I peek curiously after her, taking in the group of people dancing. Another unit holds two couples, well,couplingon opposing couches. I’m no prude, but I quickly glance away. The next apartment is actuallymissingits door. I don’t linger to see what’s going on inside that particular one.
My chest is tight, and my heart feels like it’s beating in my throat as I observe people moving in a daze from unit to unit, and again I’m second-guessing having come here. No one seems to pay me any mind, though, so I soldier on. I’m finally nearing theend of the hallway and the source of the music—which is now at a nearly unbearable level—when the growing crowd suddenly parts to reveal two men shoving at each other. It’s a blur of fists and a flash of red as their violent tussle moves my way. I freeze in alarm, then press myself anxiously against the wall with a squeak as they rumble past me. They break apart, then one man shoves the other into the open door of a nearby unit and stomps in after him, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. There’s the slamming of a door followed by a woman’s muffled scream as I work to suck air back into my lungs. Despite my lingering shock, I have the presence of mind not to stick around, hurrying anxiously to the open doorway of the final apartment.
It’s unbearably hot as I shove my way into the packed unit, unwashed bodies pressing against me and causing me to breathe steadily through my mouth. My skin feels sticky, and I’m desperate to find Riley and get the hell out of this— this hellhole.
You’d think after everything I’ve just witnessed I wouldn’t be surprised by what I find in what I assume to be Lucky’s apartment.
You’d be wrong.
Drugs.
A boat-fucking-load of drugs. And yes, the word ‘fucking’ is absolutely necessary in this case to emphasize the sheer level of depravity I’m witnessing, and the disillusionment I’m feeling in this moment.
Rileycannotbe here. Hejust …can’t!
But my eyes find him almost instantly, and my heart drops. He’s sitting on the end of a sofa that’s clearly seen better days, leaning with his back against one of the arms while a dark-haired man on the other end inhales a line of white powder off the water-ringed coffee table before him. Riley’s mouth is moving, and while I have no chance of hearing him over the music, the other man clearly does, because he nods several times in agreement before closing his eyes and dropping his head back against the couch.
I’m frozen in the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe as I stare at Riley for the first time in more than half a year. My eyes rove greedily, almost frantically, over him, cataloging his every feature. He looks … gaunt. His face is thinner than I remember, and he’s so pale. Too pale for late summer, for a guy so used to spending every spare minute on the outdoor courts playing ball. His medium brown hair is greasy and dull. He doesn’t look healthy or even very happy despite the smirk he offers two other men who draw up next to where he’s seated.
Despite his appearance, despite this creepy hole-in-the-wall where I’ve found him, despite my heartbreaking reason for being here and the shitty way he’s treated me … I’m still relieved to see him. Happy, even.
My heart rate quickens, and my stomach flutters like it always does in his presence. My hands ache to touch him.
I hate it.
I love it.
It’s a confusing mix of emotions, but there it is.
