Addiction

by Roberta Blablanski

  "Awe, c'mon! I haven't asked you for anything since then. I can't help it if someone cancels on short notice!"

  "And what do you think Dex would say about me being a contestant in your dating game?"

  "Oh, it's no problem! Actually, you’ll be the eligible bachelor, not a contestant. Anyway, I talked to Dex a few minutes ago, and he gave his blessing as long as you don't go home with anyone."

  "How are you going to guarantee that? You can't throw off the game that easily."

  "It'll be fine, Owen! You'll have cards to read from. Think of it as a script."

  "None of this makes any sense. How can I play the role of the eligible bachelor if I'm not eligible? That's an important quality to have for this to work."

  "You'll go first. It'll sorta be like a practice run. The other bachelors and contestants will get to see how it works."

  "But how is that fair for the three guys who think they're getting a chance to win a date with a single guy?"

  "I'll take care of that part. Give 'em vouchers for drinks at the bar or something."

  "I would be pretty pissed off to be tricked into thinking I could possible win a hot date but end up getting a few beers by myself at a hotel bar instead."

  "I'll worry about those little details. Pretty please?"

  "Fine. Give me the cards."

  Instead of producing the cue cards, Sammy led him to the ballroom where the gay dating game was to be held. A makeshift stage was set up on one side of the ballroom. A large curtain was draped on the stage, bisecting it so that one stool was on one side and three stools were on the other. A banner that spanned the back of the stage announced The Gay-ting Game.

  Sammy ushered Owen to the single stool side. "Sit here, and the contestants will be ushered in from the side entrance. They won't see you, and you won't see them."

  "Sammy, I'm well aware of how The Dating Game is played. Who hasn't watched reruns? Chuck Woolery, am I right?" Owen wiggled his eyebrows.

  "Major swoon-worthy," Sammy agreed. "Okay, okay. So, read a question on the cards, let each guy answer, and then move on to the next question. Zero brain power required."

  "When will I get these mysterious cards you keep speaking of?"

  "Uh, well…" Sammy rubbed the back of his neck. "I haven't printed them yet."

  Owen widened his eyes. "When exactly does this thing start?"

  "In thirty minutes."

  "Thirty minutes?" Owen asked incredulously. "When am I supposed to review the cards?"

  "Chill, Owen. You don't need to read the questions beforehand. This is simple and straightforward. Stick to the script – you know, the cards – and everything will be fine."

  "You are the absolute worst, and I hate you," Owen said with no heat in his voice.

  "Nah, man. You love me." Sammy gave Owen a cheeky grin.

  "Some days I wish I didn't. Now go print those cards or I'm walking out."

  Sammy scampered off, leaving Owen to shoot off a quick text to Dex.

  Owen: I don't know who I hate more, you or Sammy.

  Dex: LOL. We owed him for helping me move into your apartment. Be nice.

  Owen: No, YOU owe him, not me. I said we could have done it by ourselves.

  Dex: Sure, baby. Whatever you say. Walking into the library. See you at home. Don't enjoy yourself too much.

  Owen: Very funny. Keep that up and I might bring a man home with me.

  Dex: LOL. Love you.

  Owen: Ditto. <3

  They were coming up on their eighteen-month anniversary, and Owen still loved Dex as fiercely as the moment he realized about two weeks into dating that he was hopelessly in love.

  Owen was still smiling down at his phone when Sammy presented him with the question cards. He read a few and groaned, “These are terrible questions! And cheesy. Do I have to read these, or can I make up something more exciting?”

  “They are not terrible or cheesy! They’re romantic. Why are you hating on romance?”

  “I’m not hating on romance. I love romance with my guy, but as part of a dating game, it seems desperate. Stuff like that should happen naturally. You can’t force the connection.”

  Sammy tsked. “My sweet summer child. We’re facilitating the romance, encouraging the connections, gathering all the ingredients to the recipe.” Sammy raised his arms and swept them wide in an over-the-top display that had Owen laughing.

  People began filing into the room and taking seats in the rows of chairs set up for the audience. Owen started getting nervous. He didn’t like being the center of attention and having all eyes on him.

  Sammy’s expression turned serious. “Now sit down and get ready to play along. We start in,” He glanced at his phone, “ten minutes.”

  Those ten minutes flew by, and before he knew it, Owen was in the hot seat. Sammy introduced him to the audience, many of whom Owen knew or who knew him and Dex. This was such a farce.

  “Our contestants are on the other side of the curtain, waiting to answer all of your pressing questions, Owen, and for a chance to win your heart. Are you guys ready?” Sammy asked the three men hidden from Owen’s view.

  The audience whistled and cheered. Their exuberance was excessive for this kind of event. Owen realized those guys must be ridiculously hot or plain ridiculous.

  “Our handsome, eligible bachelor will start with a question for Contestant Number One. Take it away, Owen!”

  “Okay, um.” Owen cleared his throat. “Here we go. Contestant Number One, if you could work in any profession, what would it be?” Yep, let’s start off with the boring question.

  “If I could work in any profession,” came a cocky-sounding voice. “I would be a professional thief so I could steal your heart.”

  Owen covered a laugh with a cough. "Okay. Well, that's something. Contestant Number Two, your profession?"

  "I'd choose the shipping business because I'd ship us so hard." This guy could compete with the first in a cocky tone competition.

  Owen nearly choked on his own spit. "Um, yeah. Moving along. Contestant Number Three, same question."

  A voice that was obviously disguised said, “I like working with kids, so maybe a teacher or pediatrician.”

  "Oh, wow. Yeah. That's wonderful. It takes a special kind of person to want to be around kids all the time." A special person like his Dex who had endless patience and was kind to all his students.

  "Okay. Second question. Contestant Number One, what is the longest relationship you’ve been in?"

  "It's not the length that counts, it's what you do with it that matters."

  "Clearly," Owen mumbled under his breath as the crowd hooted. "Contestant Number Two, your answer?"

  "Depends on how long you and I are together."

  All of Owen's internal eye rolling was going to cause his eyeballs to dislodge. "Contestant Number Three?"

  "A blissful year and a half."

  "Awe, that's sweet." Contestant Number Three seemed like a nice guy. Owen hoped he'd find someone who'd appreciate him.

  "Third question: What is your favorite scent, Contestant Number One?"

  The first man let out what he probably hoped would be a sexy moan but sounded like a donkey braying. "Your sweat after a marathon between the sheets."

  Where did Sammy find these guys? Sleazy was putting it nicely.

  "Contestant Number Two?"

  "Our bodies fresh out of the shower after hours of lovemaking."

  Suppressing a gag, Owen kept the momentum going. "And Contestant Number Three?"

  "Vanilla and cinnamon, especially from a fresh baked dessert."

  This answer made Owen think of the homemade cinnamon rolls Dex liked to bake on a random Sunday morning. They would snuggle in bed, sipping coffee, and munching on his cinnamon rolls. Owen adored those lazy mornings. Maybe he could convince Dex to make them this weekend.

  "Next question. Describe the perfect first date, Contestant Number One."

  "My bedroom all night long. Yeah, baby!" This guy’s A
ustin Powers impression was spot on.

  “Okay, Contestant Number Two. Your turn.”

  "I’d take you to a club where we can grind on each other. Then, I’d probably blow you in the bathroom and see where things lead from there.”

  Oh gods. Owen would have to have a talk with Sammy about setting the standards higher for these events.

  “Your perfect first date, Contestant Number Three?”

  "Something nice and relaxing so there's no pressure. Like hot chocolate and cuddling on the couch, getting to know one another."

  Just like his and Dex's first date. A wide grin spread across his face. Owen must have let his thoughts wander for too long because Sammy was in front of him, tapping the cards in his hands. "Can we get to the next question, Owen?"

  Owen cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his question cards. "What is your idea of the perfect marriage proposal?"

  "Marriage is for suckers. Who needs a ball and chain when there's fun to be had?" Contestant Number One had some strong opinions about marriage.

  “Hmm, okay. Contestant Number Two?”

  "I'd take you sky diving, and while we're falling to the ground, I'd point out the banner flying from the tail of the plane. The banner would say 'Marry me, dude!'"

  That sounded horrible. If Dex proposed to him like that, he'd have to say no because he was worth more than a 'dude.' Wait, why was he imagining Dex proposing to him? Silly.

  “And Contestant Number Three, your ideal marriage proposal?”

  "I'd like to show you, if I may?"

  "It’s against the rules for the bachelor and a contestant to see each before the questioning is finished, but I'll allow it this once," Sammy agreed.

  The audience roared at the unexpected turn of events, then continued to roar and cheer and clap and whistle. Some people were standing up.

  This is bizarre. There’s no need for all this commotion. Did Sammy put something in the water? Everyone is acting strange.

  Owen braced himself for...what, he didn’t know. Maybe Contestant Number Three was going to spray him with silly string? Or pick Owen up and twirl him above his head like ice skaters performing at the Olympics?

  Owen sat on his stool, waiting for what was to come, as the crowd got rowdier. From the shadows on the curtain, he could make out Contestant Number Three approaching his side of the stage.

  The man who came into view was the last person Owen expected to see. Dex had a huge but nervous smile on his face, and he looked hot in dark gray slacks and a light blue Oxford shirt.

  With a racing heart, Owen asked, “What are you doing here, Dex?”

  Instead of replying, Dex came to stand in between Owens legs. Owen looked up into his brown eyes and everything else faded away. He no longer heard the noise from the audience and was no longer aware of the uncomfortable stool he was sitting on. It was all Dex.

  “Baby.” Dex cupped Owen’s cheek, stroking his skin with the lightest of touches. Owen shivered and closed his eyes.

  He opened them again when Dex removed his hand to see Dex on one knee in front of him. He had a small black velvet box in the palm of his outstretched hand.

  “Owen,” Dex said as he opened the box. “I love you with every ounce of my being, and I want to be with you forever. How about we make this thing we’re doing official and get married?”

  Owen stared, open-mouthed, at the shiny, black band nestled in the jewelry box. And then he laughed.

  A big, hearty belly laugh that forced all the air out of his body until he was gasping for breath.

  Dex sat back on his heels and looked up at Owen, bewildered. The audience was completely still and silent for once. Owen’s laugh echoed in the ballroom.

  When he finally managed to catch his breath, he got down on his knees with Dex and kissed him fiercely. “Yes, you silly man. I would be honored to make this thing official.”

  Dex barked out a laugh and slipped the band over Owen’s finger. He pulled Owen into a tight hug, whispering in his ear over the roaring of the audience, “Don’t you ever laugh at me again! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

  Owen teased back, “You caught me off guard! Laughing was my natural, first reaction. You can’t hold that against me!”

  Dex lifted Owen up to standing, and the two men faced the audience. “He said yes!” Dex announced and raised Owen’s hand to show off the engagement band on his finger.

  Owen did get his cinnamon rolls that weekend, among other things.

  "Now think about what you're willing to do, what sacrifices you’re willing to make, to get back that feeling of contentment." Mercy’s voice brought Owen back to the present.

  Tears were streaming silently down Owen’s face. He’d traded his engagement ring to Leroy for pills, and the loss hit him harder right then than ever before. The guilt and the grief he felt for allowing his addiction to destroy the best thing that had ever happened in his life overwhelmed him.

  His chest tightened, making it hard to breathe, and his vision spotted. Oh no, not again.

  He fruitlessly tried his breathing exercises to ward off the impending panic attack. He felt Gerry grab his hand, her warm, wrinkly skin soothing him. Someone else rubbed his back. He leaned over, putting his head between his legs and concentrated on his breathing.

  Minutes, or maybe even hours, passed before he was able to sit up and function without feeling like a giant was sitting on his chest, crushing him.

  “We’ll break here for the day,” Mercy addressed the group. “Next week, we’ll pick back up on this topic, so be thinking about that happy moment.”

  Ivan helped him from his chair, handing him his crutches, and guiding him to their room. Owen flopped face down on his bed and ignored Ivan. Eventually, he fell asleep, dreaming of Dex’s strong arms around him.

  11

  OWEN

  HIS NEW CLOTHES NO LONGER smelled like Dex. Or rather, like Dex’s preferred fabric softener. Owen was losing his connection to Dex.

  The scent of his clothing was a silly thing to obsess over, he knew this. But his body was going through withdrawal, and his emotional state was temperamental at best. He was sitting in James’ office as the doctor droned on about the Suboxone he would prescribe Owen, some magical pill that was going to make the detox easier for him. To Owen this was just another medication he could possibly get addicted to.

  To get through his sessions with James, Owen would pull up the collar of his t-shirt to cover his nose. He’d inhale Dex’s scent and feel a calm wash over him. Now that his clothes smelled like the industrial cleaner the hospital used, he felt more and more unsettled and ready to jump out of his seat.

  Not that he could jump out of his seat. His ankle was on the mend, and he relied on his crutches to get everywhere. Those damn crutches were another thing that frustrated him.

  “Will the Suboxone help with my ankle pain?” Owen cut James off mid-sentence. For all he knew, James might have moved on to another topic.

  James blinked slowly at Owen, a sure sign Owen had pissed him off. Like Owen gave a shit. James was stuffy and dull and didn't appear to genuinely care about his patients. There was a coldness to him that made Owen want to say whatever he thought James would want to hear so that he could get away from him. Clinical was the word Owen would use to describe James. His preference to be called by his first name provided no warmth to how he projected himself.

  “Yes, it will help with the pain, so we will discontinue the ibuprofen Dr. Wen prescribed. She and I have had an in-depth discussion of your treatment for your physical injuries and your dependency issues. You will also find the Suboxone will help with your generalized anxiety disorder and will alleviate some of your withdrawal symptoms.” James' dull, monotonous tone drove Owen up the wall.

  “Great. When do I start taking it?” Even to his own ears, he sounded childish.

  James steepled his hands on his desk and gave Owen one of his patented fake stares of patience. “I have drawn up a regimen for you, which yo
u will need to follow closely. That shouldn't be a problem as the aids will administer the medication, and you will continue to be drug tested.”

  This was some One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest level shit. Everything rationed and monitored and all fun to be had sucked out of everything. James would, from this moment on, be known as Nurse Ratched in his head. If Owen had an ounce of motivation, he might have rallied the other patients to escape.

  What a silly notion. He was here on his own free will; he checked himself in, and he could check himself out anytime he wanted. He could say “fuck this!” and walk right out. But, then where would he go? He was still homeless and jobless at the end of the day.

  He was six days into his ninety day stay. That meant in eighty-four days, he was on his own. He thought about the conversation he had with Ivan about Ivan’s departure.

  “You won’t be on your own,” Ivan reassured him when Owen voiced his fear. “Monique has several housing and job resources you can take advantage of. She’s built up a good reputation with businesses who are willing to hire recovering addicts. Anyway, it’s too early to be thinking about that stuff. Right now, focus on healing.”

  “What are you going to do in a couple of weeks when you’re set free?”

  Ivan chuckled. “You make it sound like we’re in a prison.”

  It was uncommon for a patient of the rehab program to sign up for a stint longer than ninety days. Ivan explained to him that he chose a full year because of his propensity for relapsing. He'd been through two short outpatient programs but found himself slipping back into old habits. He also mentioned his family history. Nearly every one of his family members was addicted to something – alcohol, drugs, food, you name it – and Ivan wanted to break the cycle. He’d lost a brother to a drug deal gone bad, his father was in jail for robbing a bank, and his mother succumbed to cirrhosis of the liver when Ivan was fifteen. Other various extended family members had run-ins with the law or addiction-related health issues.

  “Doesn’t it feel like a prison sometimes?”