He didn’t get any sleep the night he returned from the hospital. Patrick was working the overnight shift at the diner when he got home, and Dex was glad to have avoided this conversation until now.
“But you’re going back to him. Because he asked you to,” Patrick said, pointing out the obvious.
“I’m not going back to him. I’m going to make sure he has everything he needs, and that will be the end of it. I won’t go back.” Even as he said the words, Dex knew he couldn’t put faith in that declaration. His heart was inexplicably tied to Owen’s. There was an unmistakable pull that never vanished during their separation, a pull that had faded but was growing stronger since the phone call from the hospital.
But above all the tender feelings for Owen that Dex wouldn’t admit to, he was the only person in a position to help Owen. Dex was being practical and not just letting his heart lead the way. Right?
“He stole three years of your life and all of your savings!” Patrick threw up his hands in frustration.
“You’re exaggerating. It wasn’t all of my savings, just our wedding fund.” Dex was too stressed to discuss this with Patrick. He wanted to jump in the shower and change into more comfortable clothes before heading back to the hospital.
“Listen to what you’re saying! Just your wedding fund. The wedding that was to be yours and his. You were going to marry him.”
“He was a different person when we made that commitment. The person he is now…” Dex shook his head sadly. “I don’t know that man. His personality has changed, and I blame that all on the drugs.”
“And that’s never going to change, can’t you see that?” Patrick began pacing in front of the sofa in his living room where he was sitting when Dex walked in. “You’ve tried getting him help. He has to want it, and it’s apparent he doesn’t. You shouldn’t get involved again. You’re still healing from before.”
“I’m not getting involved with him, Patrick! I need you to listen to me.” Dex grabbed Patrick’s arm, saving the carpet from the tread marks he was going to wear eventually. “I am well aware of what Owen did, and I don’t want to make myself vulnerable again. Can you trust that I know what I’m doing, that I won’t get entangled in his drama?”
Patrick fell back on the couch, clearly defeated. "While I don't agree with what you're doing, I know I can't stop you. Just please come talk to me if you feel you're getting sucked in again. I'm on your side whether it seems that way to you or not, okay?"
Dex hugged Patrick. He was lucky to have his brother's unwavering support. "I know you are, and I love you for it."
With that truce, Dex showered and dressed and headed back to the hospital. He meant it when he told Patrick that he wasn't going to let Owen drag him into his drama. He wanted the best for Owen, but Dex recognized that he wasn't the one to help guide Owen.
Been there, done that, lost the t-shirt.
His journey to Owen's room was much less eventful than the day of that unexpected call two days ago. He heard voices talking through the crack in the door and knocked before walking in.
Owen was sitting up in bed, and a uniformed officer was beside him. Next to the large, imposing officer, Owen appeared small and frail. Dex resisted the urge to wrap Owen up in his arms and tell the officer to back off. When would his gut reaction to protect Owen fade?
Patrick would be more than merely displeased if Dex did anything like that. Instead, he extended his hand to the officer. "Dex Atterbury."
As Dex shook his hand, the officer introduced himself. "Mr. Atterbury, nice to finally meet you. I'm Officer Linden. I believe you spoke with my partner, Officer Richards."
"Yes, I did." Dex glanced over at Owen. "How are you feeling?"
Owen had a sour look on his face. He couldn't be at all comfortable given his injuries and limitations with pain management. "I've been better."
"Owen mentioned you might be by again. I was just about to begin taking his statement." Officer Linden gestured with his pen at his open notepad. "Would you like Mr. Atterbury to stay, Owen?"
"Would you?" Owen said to Dex. "Stay?"
Dex swallowed hard. Part of him wanted to stay to find out what Owen had been through and to provide a steady hand should Owen need the encouragement or comfort; another part was uneasy at the thought of hearing the dreadful things that had happened to Owen. Could he handle the harsh reality of the depths of what Owen's drug addiction had led to?
Owen asked expectantly, "Dex?"
“If you want me to, I will,” he acquiesced.
“I do want you to.”
Despite the stitches and healing bruises, Dex could see his Owen clear as day. No, don’t get sucked in. This is what Patrick warned you about.
“Alright, let’s get started.” Officer Linden’s words effectively disconnected the charged stare between Dex and Owen. “Tell me how you know Leroy Sanders.”
“What makes you think I know him?” came Owen’s petulant response.
“Is this the game we’re going to play? I know all the tricks to win, so you might as well surrender before we get any further.” Officer Linden was not about Owen’s bullshit, and Dex suppressed a smile. He liked this man.
“Owen, please cooperate. Officer Linden only wants to help. Someone should have to answer for all of this.” Dex gestured to Owen’s body hidden under the hospital sheets.
Owen bit his lip and seemed to contemplate his options. Dex wished he could telepathically convince Owen to give Officer Linden everything he knew. Was Owen afraid to give the officer information? A beating as violent as the one Owen apparently endured would make anyone wary of getting involved.
“Yeah, okay. Fine.” Owen ran his hands through his greasy blond hair. Maybe Dex could offer to wash it for him? He probably couldn’t have a proper shower, what with the stitches on his face and his ankle.
Dammit, Dex! Stop caring so much!
“So, Leroy was my dealer, I guess you could say.”
“You guess? Either he was or he wasn’t. There’s no in between.”
“Fine.” Owen gritted his teeth. “He was my drug dealer.”
“What drugs did you buy from Leroy?”
“Only pain pills, like Oxy and whatever knockoff he had when Oxy got difficult for him to get. But nothing else. None of that crap you asked me about on the boardwalk.”
“How did you get connected with him?”
“A guy I worked with sold weed. I’m not giving you his name, by the way; he has nothing to do with this. Though, I’m sure you could easily find out who he is. Anyway, the weed guy told me how to find Leroy.”
“How long were you buying drugs from Leroy?”
“I don’t know.” Owen looked up at the ceiling in concentration. “Maybe a little less than a year?”
Dex was floored. Owen had been getting pills from a drug dealer for almost a year? How did he not know?
“Hey, stop that.” Dex whipped his head up at Owen’s words. “You’re trying to blame some of this on yourself. This has nothing to do with something you should have or shouldn’t have done. You were there for me through everything, and I tossed it all away. The blame is on my shoulders, not yours.”
Dex blinked back tears at Owen’s impassioned speech. His rational brain knew there wasn’t anything he could have done to change the course of events that led to where they were now. But his once infallible love for Owen told him otherwise.
“You guys need a moment?” Officer Linden asked.
“No, we can continue.” Owen sounded more confident than Dex had ever heard him.
“So, you’ve been buying Oxy from Leroy for about a year. In that time, had he ever been violent?”
Owen was clearly uncomfortable at that question. Dex took his hand and squeezed.
“Yeah. He, uh...once he cut my hair.”
“What?!” Dex interjected. “Was that the night you shaved your head?”
“Yeah.” The word came out as a whisper.
“And that cut on your face. Was
that Leroy, too?” Dex recalled that night Owen slipped by him after being out later than Dex had expected. None of the excuses Owen gave him for the condition of his hair and face had made any sense to Dex. He vividly remembered being overwhelmed with worry and concern for Owen, and all those feelings, along with anger, came rushing back.
Owen nodded and refused to meet Dex’s penetrating dark eyes.
“Back up,” Officer Linden interrupted. “Tell me about your hair and face from the beginning.”
“He was mad that I owed him a lot of money, so he cut some of my hair off.” Though his words were matter-of-fact, Owen’s expression was sad. The urge to protect him came back to Dex.
“Owen had long, gorgeous hair. It was beautiful, and he took such good care of it,” Dex explained. “I knew something was very wrong when he came home one night and shaved his head.”
“So, Leroy cut my hair and my face. But the cut on my face wasn’t deep. It was barely a scratch.”
“A scratch? Owen, you were bleeding!” Dex practically shouted. Fury at Leroy flared in his chest as he balled his hands into fists. At this moment, Dex wouldn’t hesitate to beat Leroy to a pulp. That repulsive excuse for a human being would pay for wrecking his Owen’s body and spirit.
“Mr. Atterbury, if you can’t keep your voice down, you’ll have to leave.”
Dex took heed to the officer’s warning and kept his mouth closed, but his anger still simmered, burning to break free.
Officer Linden flipped to a fresh page of his notepad. “Was Leroy violent any other time?”
“He and one of his goons attacked me the night you found me on the beach. They dragged me from my car and accused me of talking to you about him. Which you know I didn’t.” Owen gave a defiant lift of his chin, as if challenging Officer Linden to dispute that fact. The boiling anger inside Dex cooled by several degrees; he was proud of Owen and pleased to see some of his spunk returning.
“Are you willing to identify him in a lineup?”
“What will that mean for me once I’m out of here? He can come find me anytime and do something worse.”
“With your cooperation and testimony, the DA is hoping to lock Leroy up for a very long time.”
“Testimony? I’ll have to go to court and testify? Will I have to face him?” Owen turned pale under the redness and bruises.
“Well, we’re in the very early stages of the case but yes. Unless Leroy pleads guilty, you’ll have to testify in court, and Leroy will be there.”
“I don’t know if I can do that. You see what he’s done to me? And you want me to look him in the eye and tell a judge what I went through? You might as well kill me now. Save Leroy the trouble.”
Terror and anxiety were coming off Owen in waves. Dex couldn’t bear to see Owen get upset again, and his instinct to protect kicked in. “Maybe you could come back another day? The idea of testifying in front of Leroy has Owen obviously upset.”
Officer Linden closed his notepad. “I’ll leave my number with you again, and you can call me when you’re ready to talk further. I don’t want to pressure you, but your testimony gives the state the best chance to get Leroy behind bars where he belongs.”
“You can’t put your entire case on my shoulders. What if I decide I can’t or won’t testify? Isn’t there someone else you can use as your bait?”
“You’re not bait, Owen. Leroy needs to be punished for what he did to you, and the only way that can happen is for you to tell your story. Officer Linden is on your side.”
“We agreed to revisit your willingness to testify later, so let’s lay it to rest for now. There is something else I want to talk to you about.”
“I’ve told you everything I know. What else could you want from me!” Owen’s voice broke on the last word, hysterics near the surface.
The need to comfort and console Owen got the best of Dex. “Owen, he said it isn’t about Leroy. Will you at least listen?” He stroked his thumb over Owen’s knuckles to soothe Owen’s raw nerves.
“This hospital has an excellent drug rehabilitation program. I should know; my wife runs it.” A fond smile appeared on Officer Linden’s face. “How do you feel about speaking with her about the services offered? I think you would benefit greatly from the program.”
“Sure, why not? It’s not like I have anything else to do.”
A bit of Dex’s earlier anger returned, this time directed at Owen and his insolence. If Owen didn’t take his situation seriously—the addiction, the beating, his wounds, and the surgery—nothing was going to get him on the right track. And Dex wouldn’t placate Owen. “That’s not a good attitude.”
Officer Linden shook his head. “No, it’s a genuine reaction and one that should be expected. Owen and I had a heart to heart days ago, and I think we’ve come to an understanding. I’ll ask Monique to talk to you. The rest is up to you. No one is going to force you into rehab.”
“Maybe I need to be forced. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to do it on my own. Dex tried before he left me; Sammy tried before he fired me.”
“Discuss that with Monique. She’ll have some insight.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
* * * * *
The parking lot where Owen had left his car was in a rough stretch of road along the beach. The shops were out of business and graffiti covered most of the brick. The potholes in the parking lot discouraged anyone from driving through.
Dex opened the trunk to find a few ratty pieces of clothing that desperately needed a wash if the smell was any indication. He doubted they would survive the spin cycle. He gathered them up into a reusable shopping bag he had the forethought to bring. He checked the front and back seats, not finding anything worth bringing to Owen.
He’d have to find a way to get Owen’s car out of this lot and to a safer location. That was a problem for future Dex. Right now, his mission was to get some clean clothes to Owen.
After making sure Owen’s car was locked and as secure as possible given the area, Dex got into his own car and drove to the discount outlet mall. Patrick would kill him for this. That was another problem for future Dex.
He knew Owen’s sizes when they were together. Now, Owen was much thinner, and Dex had to guess at his current size. Sweatpants and t-shirts were a safe bet. He selected five pairs of sweatpants and five t-shirts, along with socks and boxer briefs.
On the way out, he stopped at a drugstore for basic toiletries to add to his purchases. Then he went home and dumped all the new clothing into the washer. Sure, he was going above and beyond for someone who had stolen a large amount of money from him and stomped on his heart, but kindness was Dex’s default. He knew no other way.
The next morning, he left for work earlier than normal so that he could stop by the hospital to drop off the clean clothes and toiletries. Owen was asleep, and Dex placed the items on a chair. He quietly approached the bed.
He loved watching Owen sleep. Owen was a late sleeper, and Dex, being an early riser, would spend several minutes in bed watching the rise and fall of Owen’s chest or a trail of drool from the corner of his mouth. Dex loved every part of Owen; how could Patrick expect him to keep a neutral distance?
While he was encouraged by Owen’s positive reaction to the suggestion of drug rehab, Dex was wary of putting too much faith in that brief conversation. Anything could happen between now and when Dr. Wen discharged Owen.
Perhaps one day, he and Owen could be friends, at the very least. He doubted his heart would allow him to be content with friendship, but it was a place to start.
10
OWEN
"THINK OF A MOMENT when you were truly happy. Think about the people who brought you that happiness. Focus on those good feelings."
The therapist for this morning's group therapy session was a slight woman with a mane of wild red hair. Her hair matched her energy as heard in her chipper voice and exuberant hand motions. Owen preferred her over James, the stuffy psychiatrist Owen had been assigned the day he
checked into the drug rehab facility on the north side of the hospital campus.
Mercy created a comfortable atmosphere in group sessions. Everyone had relaxed postures and less tension in their faces once they got settled into one of the chairs that formed a circle. Gerry, a seventy-something year old grandma, and Owen’s roommate, Ivan, were on either side of him.
Owen had a choice to participate in the in-patient program or take part on an outpatient basis. Given he was homeless and had Dr. Wen’s orders for physical therapy for his ankle, in-patient was the no-brainer choice.
When he was assigned to room with Ivan, Owen was almost ashamed to admit to himself that he was looking forward to it. Who got excited about being in rehab? But he was eager to prove to Dex he could be a better person. He also got to share his journey with someone who was a veteran of sorts. Ivan was one-month shy of completing one year sober in the program and was a wealth of knowledge and support.
Ivan understood the mood swings – the hopeful highs, the depressing lows, and the burning rage – and prodded Owen forward when Owen wanted to give up.
Ivan was leery of Owen using Dex as his motivation for getting clean, warning Owen that putting that much hope on a relationship that might never be again was possibly setting himself up for failure. Owen knew that and tried concentrating his goal on more attainable things, such as a job, a home...a life not tied to when and how he was going to get his next dose.
"Does anyone want to share their happy moment?"
A happy moment? The first that came to Owen's mind was the night Dex proposed to him. Dex had caught him completely off guard. Their relationship was strong and full of love, and Owen couldn't have imagined anything that would make it better, but Dex proved him wrong.
"Owen," Sammy whined. "I promise this is the last time! I'll never, ever ask you again."
"Where have I heard those exact words before?" Owen tapped his chin and looked to the ceiling. "Oh, I know!" Owen pointed at Sammy. "Isn't that what you said about speed dating?"
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