Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you
Hate me in ways
Yeah, ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you
Blue October~Hate Me
Chapter Two
Noah
I felt a little less ill on my way over to Carrie and Chads now that I had spoken with Jenny. She never bullshit me or painted it like I was anything other than an addict in recovery. She had a way of cutting through two months of intense therapy and clearing it all out.
Something I needed from her daily it seemed, and today it couldn’t have come at a better time.
I hung up with Jen just as I pulled in the drive of Chad and Carries; ready for my ass ripping she’d been waiting six months for.
“Hey Bubba.” Carrie says and opens the door to her house. It is the first time I have ever knocked on her door. I knock because today is my six month mark and this damn girl has been counting the seconds to unleash hell fury on me. I had asked her to leave me be and stop badgering me for information and answers I didn’t have, when I had very first entered detox, then after detox as she begged and badgered for me to go to a rehabilitation center. I answered her with a kind no, ie fuck that sissy, no way no how.
I finally agreed to a ninety day outpatient rehabilitation deal if she agreed to shut the fuck up so I could focus. She countered me, the little shit, that if I used in that time that all bets were off and she would never stop. Trust and believe it was the most peaceful time of my life. Today is y six month anniversary and I am officially at her mercy.
“Let the badgering begin.” I say and hold my arms out dramatically in a hopeless and futile attempt to make her smile. No deal though, she was rearing to go. I bet she had cue cards hidden somewhere to reference, that or an app on her iPhone.
Either way, there are many things I am not, a welsher is one of them. As if I didn’t know her, I watch as we both sit in the formal living room, odd as fuck this room because we ain't formal, but we sit and I watch with a smile as she pulls a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans.
I laugh and shake my head, more comfortable by that list because it is proof we are sissy and bubba and know one another like our own skin. My fear ebbs at seeing her as I knew she would be. “I knew you made a list.”
She rolls her eyes at me and sips from a water bottle. “Please, I have this list memorized but I am prepared to be fully shocked by whatever you’re about to reveal so I wrote it to stay on topic.”
Now, if there was a camera here and I were the star of some reality show, I would look at the camera and wink right now because I called it like BINGO.
“Oh by all means, lay it on me.”
I see her smile fade at my words and I immediately want to reassure her. The problem with reassurance though, is that I can’t reassure my only true soul mate on this fucked up little rock, no more than I could reassure the sun it would rise tomorrow. I have fucked it all up that bad. There is a distance between us now. I pushed her away when I needed her most, and now she has questions and I don't know if I will ever be ready for them.
Not with us broken anyway.
So instead I sit and await my guilt, knowing that it will feel less like a weight and more like a fine fucking suit. Guilt reminds me I am alive and seeking a redemption I don’t know is possible, but I will own it all regardless.
“How are you?” She asks and there is a sadness in her voice and there is no pandering or buying me, we are too real to pander to one another. It’s proof that we really were that tight with one another that even without Trust me, we had no bullshit. Carrie was the only person on earth I couldn’t lie to about my life.
At times I wanted that back, at others, like now I was content to let it ride and give her what I could.
“I’m okay today, I don’t know about tomorrow.” I say and shrug. She nods accepting that answer and I fall more and more into a comfortable state. This is Carrie I am talking too and I remind myself that even though it's been six months of zero depth and information that she reacts just as she always does. There is no drama or ‘awe Noah it’ll be okay I swear’. She would never feed me that bullshit because we both know that I will never define as healed, I will never be fine and just move on. It is impossible to be fine when thousands of teeny tiny shattered pieces of Noah fall from me with every step. No I am not fine, but I am ok today.
“So tell me about the night you checked in to detox because I saw the bruises as they healed and you refused to tell me, but I want answers now Noah.” And that is the other greatest quality she has. Carrie is the only person on this planet that could ever demand anything from me without some form of comeback and possibly snide bullshit from me. The reason she can is because she accepted without argument my six month breather of bullshit, unaware it was intended to keep her away from the truth. I was forced to replay every bad thing I have ever done on repeat every day in those six months because when you are sober, turns out that you can no longer forget. It’s the hardest part of sobriety.
“I was beat up obviously. I couldn’t get in touch with my dealer and these bikers were at Skin and I could see the MC logo and knew they had to have some connections. They were cool at first until they recognized who I was. At that point the price changed and they were trying to swindle me for money. Me being me I told them to fuck off and so they beat the ever loving fuck out of me.” I watch as my words sink in, the fear that it could have been worse and the anger that I put myself in that position, but she is as unwavering as she always has been and pushes her feelings aside and it isn’t what I want. “Don’t hide from me. I see the sadness and worry. Let it out.” I say and she sighs aloud.
“I don’t understand the pull of heroin Noah, I don't know why it's what you turn to in your darkest hour knowing I would help you.” Her eyes are glistening with tears as she speaks through trembling lips.
I want to tell her not to cry. I want to cry, every minute. But, I suck it up. I lean forward and take her hand in mine and keep my mask in place. “I wish you could hate me sometimes Sissy, I really do. All the strength I possess is because of my fight to see you happy. I won't ever degrade that fight by bringing that filthy habit to your door. I wish that I could split myself down the middle and let you have the good and never see the bad, but we both know we are all or nothing. My addictions were never hidden I know that neither of us can hide shit from each other, but to come to you high and in an endless darkness? No sissy, I am sorry but that just isn’t me, never me. Feel me?”
