by Erin Noelle
The day classes resumed for the spring semester, I saw Mina walking in the courtyard in between my first two classes. It was the first time I had seen her since the wedding and we greeted each other like long-lost friends who hadn’t seen each other in years, not just weeks, as we squealed, hugged, and jumped around. Some of the passersby looked at us like we were crazy, but I didn’t care one bit. She was the only girlfriend I had in my life, and with all the drama that happened, I was ecstatic to see her.
“Scarlett! Oh my God! I’ve missed you!” she shrieked as her blonde curls bounced up and down when she hugged me.
I squeezed her tightly to my body and mirrored her excitement. “I know!! I’m so happy to see you! When did ya’ll get back from your honeymoon?” I knew she and Noah were going to Telluride for snow skiing but didn’t know for how long. I was still kind of in shock she was actually married.
“We’ve been back for about a week, just lying low, relaxing at the apartment. What about you? I heard there was some excitement with Mason at the reception, but I was so busy with the wedding stuff I never heard the true story about what happened.”
My stomach turned nauseous at just the thought of that night and the things that were said and done outside that tent. I really didn’t want to discuss it again, but knew that Mina deserved to know what had happened with everything since that night. “Come on lets grab a coffee and I’ll give you the Cliff’s Notes version of the last few weeks of the soap opera is my life.”
As we walked to the Starbucks on campus, I caught her up with everything from the moment that Mase had shown up to her wedding and sang I Love You to me up until that moment in time I had still had no idea what was going on with him.
“Oh my word. I can’t believe that Scar. That’s just terrible; I can’t believe he OD’d,” she said shaking her head. “We had no idea of any of that. I’m surprised that Max didn’t call Noah to fill him in. I’m just in shock.”
“Yeah, it’s all been pretty crazy,” I replied meekly. “I just wish I knew where he was right now. I know I need to leave him alone… for the sake of mine and Ash’s relationship, but I want to know he’s okay and getting help, ya know?”
She stared at me with a serious look on her face and asked, “Is that all you really want, Scarlett? That would make you happy?”
I nodded in response as I approached the barista and ordered us both a venti caramel macchiato. “Yes, I care about him as a person, and I’d like to know he’s getting his shit together.”
She didn’t say anything, but instead pulled her phone out of her purse and began to make a call. I raised my eyebrows at her, questioning what she was doing, but she just held one finger up in the air at me, indicating I needed to wait. A few moments later, a smile spread across her face and she greeted the person on the other end of the line.
“Hey, Cruz, it’s Mina. How are you?” She paused as he spoke.
God, I hated only hearing one end of a conversation.
“I’m good, thanks, and I will pass on your regards to Noah. Hey, I heard what happened in Miami with Mason and I was just calling to get an update on him.”
“Oh, he is? Well, that’s good.”
“Yeah, I know he is.”
“Where?”
“Okay cool, sorry for calling so early and waking you up. I appreciate the info.”
“Yep, you too. Bye.”
She hung up the phone and I anxiously awaited the news she had been informed of. “Well…?”
“He’s in drug and alcohol rehab at a place called The Right Step here in Houston,” she said softly. “Cruz says he seems to be doing really well but has a few more weeks of staying there before he’s released.”
My brain started moving a thousand miles an hour at the news of where he was and what he was doing there. An internal battle I struggled to keep dormant for several weeks instantly became front and center.
“Scarlett, you said you just needed to know he was okay,” Mina’s voice startled me. “Don’t make any brash decisions. It’s obvious you still have feelings for him, but I don’t want to see you throw away anything you and Ash have built for something that can never be.”
I smiled at her, hoping it didn’t appear as fake as it felt. “I know, Mina. I appreciate you calling Cruz to find out for me. I do feel much better now.”
We separated for our next classes a few minutes later and made plans to have dinner the following Friday. Throughout my English Lit class the following hour, all I could do was think about Mase in rehab. I had so many questions… so many things to say to him. Halfway through the lecture, I succumbed to the temptation, pulled out my phone, and googled the facility. I found out the visiting hours as well as jotted down the address. I managed to wait until the class was over before running to my car and hitting the highway.
The entire drive to the center, I toyed with whether or not I should call Ash and tell him where I was going. I ultimately decided it was one of those better to beg for forgiveness things than ask for permission, so I opted not to. A little less than an hour later, I pulled into one of the visitor parking spots and walked to the front door. My heart was pounding nervously inside my chest, as I had no idea of what he would say when he saw me, but regardless of what his reaction would be, I had to see him again.
After I signed in with the office, I was led to a common room where I was asked to wait. It seemed like forever I sat there, looking around at the other patients talking to their visitors; some conversations appeared to be happy and uplifting while others seemed tense and uneasy. Then from behind where I was sitting, the voice I hadn’t heard in seventeen long days serenaded my ears with just one word.
“Angel.”
Seven
Demons—Imagine Dragons
Wherever You Will Go—The Calling
Mason
I had been in rehab for just a couple weeks, and surprisingly, it had been much better than I thought it would be. As I sat in my bed, I thought back to the day I had begun that next chapter in my life—sobriety.
The night I checked myself in, I was shown around the facility and then taken to the room that would be my only personal space for the foreseeable future. My room was small and simple, just enough space for a single bed, a small dresser, and a desk. Everything was white—the furniture, the linens, everything. The place was much nicer than I originally expected, but it was still a rehab facility—still a place where a bunch of people who were fucked in the head were all corralled into one enclosed space. The following day, which was my first full day there, I was taken to meet my assigned therapist first thing in the morning.
As I sat in the chair, waiting for the poor soul who had to try to figure out how to control my demons, I found I was more nervous than I thought I would be. Knowing you are about to be judged on all the awful decisions you’ve made is quite unsettling; I didn’t want to be thought of as a bad person. I heard the door close behind me and the heels click on the floor as they approached the chair I was sitting in. You can only imagine my surprise when Heather, the woman from the plane, took a seat directly across from me dressed comfortably in jeans and a purple V-neck sweater.
“Mason?” she asked, appearing just as shocked as I was.
“Heather,” I replied with a grin. Seriously, what were the odds?
“Well, this is quite a surprise, I must admit,” she said, returning the smile. She held a file folder in her hand, but before opening it, she looked at me with her head cocked. “Before we get started, I’m going to give you the option if you’d like to be reassigned to a different counselor… seeing as we’ve met previously. It’s vital in your recovery that you feel one hundred percent comfortable in this process.”
I didn’t have to think about it even for a minute. I wasn’t thrilled to be in that place, but if I had to be, I might as well look at her pretty face every day. “I promise I’m completely fine with you being my assigned counselor. Actually, I probably feel more at ease talking to you than some other strang
er that’s gonna tell me how I’ve fucked up my life. You’ve already told me it’s my fault I’m in hell.”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Mason, I never said it was your fault. I’m not about placing blame or saying who or what is responsible for the place you’re at in your life. It’s my job to help you rectify the situation and make sure you don’t get back there again. But like I told you yesterday, you have to want to get better. If that’s not the case, then you are wasting everyone’s time.”
It was damn hard not to look down her sweater as she talked to me, but I refrained. For the first time I can remember, I refrained. I figured I better take this shit seriously; otherwise, I was never going to get a chance to play my music again. I already lost Scarlett, so really all I had left was my music.
I looked into Heather’s eyes and, for the first time, I admitted aloud, “I want out of this hell. I want to know how to cope with stress and anxiety without the aid of a drink or a joint. I want to be able to play my music and find happiness again. I want to learn how to live without her.”
Fourteen days later, I was sitting in my bed with my guitar and my journal, furiously writing down the latest song that had taken my mind hostage, when one of the center’s administrators stuck her head in my room and announced, “Hey, superstar, you’ve got a visitor.”
Looking up at her, surprised, I asked, “Do you know who it is?”
“No, sorry, I didn’t ask. I’m just relaying the message. I didn’t even see them,” she replied before walking on down the hallway.
I was a bit perplexed, because I wasn’t expecting anyone until the following weekend, when Marcus was supposed to stop by again. Since I’d been admitted, I’d had a total of three visitors, and to be quite honest, I really didn’t feel like seeing anyone else. Marcus had come because… well, he’s my brother. No matter what happened between us, no matter what ugly things we said to each other, we were brothers forever. We always just wanted the best for each other.
Cruz had come the first Sunday to bring me my guitar and to pass along well wishes from all the guys. I could tell he was uncomfortable the entire time he was there, not that I could blame him much, so I told him I greatly appreciated him coming to check on me and bringing me my instrument, but he really didn’t need to make the trip again. I’d keep him updated with my progress via texts.
The third and final visitor I had was Smiley, Jag’s girlfriend and apparently his assistant as well. If I used the word uncomfortable for Cruz’s demeanor while there, I would have to say she was downright petrified. By the look on her face, one would’ve thought she was going to visit a prisoner on death row. It pissed me off that Jag sent her; he couldn’t be bothered with making the trip himself. I knew he had her come to make sure I was doing what I was supposed to, but I was cordial to her and told her she could report back I was on my best behavior. I even apologized for my outburst toward her back in the hospital, in addition to thanking her for finding me that night at the party. Who knows what would’ve happened had I lain there unconscious much longer than I did? By the end of the visit, she relaxed some, but I still didn’t think we were going to be BFFs anytime soon.
Setting my guitar and notepad down on the sheets, I begrudgingly got up and headed to the activities room without even bothering to put any shoes on. Whoever was waiting for me was really interrupting my writing flow, and I certainly didn’t feel like entertaining anyone. As I turned the corner and walked through the doorway, my eyes scanned the room, looking for a familiar face. As soon as I saw the long, straight, chestnut hair attached to the body that was undoubtedly Scarlett’s, my heart stopped beating and I gasped for air. She had found me. Not only had she found me, but she had come to see me.
My first reaction was to run back to my room. I felt like I had made real progress in the couple weeks I had separated myself not only from the drinking and drugs, but from her. Heather helped me realize I made Scarlett an addiction, just like the chemical dependencies, only she wasn’t physically harmful to my body. It wasn’t anything Scarlett had done herself; it was the way I had deified her and put her on a pedestal. I knew my love for her was true, but Heather emphasized that because I didn’t value nor love myself, our relationship had been doomed from the beginning.
I was still working through a lot of these ideas and had finally begun to accept I was worthy of someone like Scarlett, but that was without her sitting just mere feet in front of me. I was scared to death if I stared in her big brown eyes, if I inhaled her sweet, heavenly scent, or if I touched her silky, soft skin, I would fall right back into that unhealthy obsession I had for her, similar to the temptation of someone sitting a bottle of whiskey directly in front of me. That was the thing I discovered about rehab right off the bat. It wasn’t so hard to not drink or do drugs or any of the other bad shit while I was in there. It wasn’t thrown in my face. I didn’t have to watch other people enjoy it while I abstained. The real test would be once I was back in the real world; the everyday life of a musician included witnessing many people partake in numerous gluttonous and addictive behaviors. I thought I had a couple more months of working on myself before faced with any of my vices; however, as I stood there struggling to breathe, the thing I craved most in life had paid an early visit.
Vowing to not take the cowardly way out, to not run from my problems but to meet them head on, I walked over to where she was sitting, stopping just a couple inches behind her chair. I wasn’t quite sure what to say to her. It was almost comical thinking about how natural talking to and flirting with girls had always come to me. I never had to think about what I was going to say. I just said whatever the fuck I wanted to, and they all loved me just the same. However, in just two weeks’ time, Heather managed to strip me of pretty much every ounce of arrogance I once had in abundance, while simultaneously trying to build my self-respect and worth. The first part had happened quickly, but the second was a definite work in progress. Gathering my courage, I inhaled a deep breath and said the one word that came to my mind.
“Angel.”
Scarlett
Frozen. I was frozen in my chair… afraid to turn around, afraid to look in those gray eyes that melt me every single time. The entire drive to the center, I thought I had prepared myself for seeing him again, but the minute I heard his voice, I began having second thoughts about my unannounced appearance. Maybe I should’ve called first or maybe I should’ve just let things be, just knowing he was enrolled in a rehab program.
“Scarlett, turn around and look at me,” Mason’s gruff voice assaulted my ears.
Slowly, I stood up and turned around to look where he was standing. My eyes instantly welled up with tears seeing him standing there barefoot in his baggy, tattered jeans and white undershirt. His dark brown hair was longer than I had ever seen it and it appeared he hadn’t shaved since he’d been there. His face had much more color than when I had last seen him in Miami, and I could tell he put on a few pounds as well.
He held his arms open to me, and I quickly closed the small gap between us, flying into his body, nearly knocking him over. His arms wrapped snugly around me, and I clung to him as if my next breath depended on it. We just stood there holding each other for I’m not sure how long, my face buried in his neck.
“Angel,” he repeated softly.
I pulled myself away from him so my stare was locked on his gray, emotion-filled irises. “I hope it’s okay I came,” I stammered.
“Of course it’s okay you came. I’m just shocked to see you; I didn’t think you wanted to have anything else to do with me after…” His voice trailed off.
I grabbed his hand and walked us over to an empty sofa in the corner of the room. After we both sat down and made ourselves comfortable, not letting go of one another’s hand, I brought my gaze back to his. “I told you I’d always be here for you. Even if we aren’t together in that sense, I will never abandon you, especially when you need support and a friend.”
A small smile replaced the
obvious tension in his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I wasn’t quite sure what to say.”
“It’s okay, Mase. I understand. I’m just glad you’re here and getting help.” I looked around the room curiously at the other people. “So what’s it like? What do you do all day here?”
He chuckled. “It’s actually not so bad. The first few days, I was being my usual asshole self, but I’ve made a few friends now and it’s getting better. I have an amazing therapist; her name is Heather and she’s really helping me realize shit I knew but didn’t think much about.”
I nodded and smiled brightly as he continued to talk about his previous two weeks, truly happy he seemed to be making progress. After a little over two hours, one of the clinic’s staff members came in the room and announced that visiting hours were ending and we needed to wrap it up. I was disappointed I had to go, but I knew I needed to get home anyhow. I hadn’t checked my phone the entire time I was there, and I was sure Ash most likely tried to contact me at some point.
We embraced each other tightly one last time before heading toward the door. As we got ready to go our separate ways, I wanted to ask if I could come back but was scared he would say no. Almost as if he could read my thoughts, he asked, “Will you come back to see me again? I’d really like you to meet Heather. I’ve told her all about you.”
Nodding emphatically, I replied, “Absolutely, Mase. Just let me know when and I’ll be here.”
“Okay, I’ll text you later this week,” he said as he turned around and walked in the opposite direction. I stood there watching him, feeling some relief knowing I’d get to see him again soon. Once he was out of sight, I headed out the main entrance and to my car. Plopping myself into the driver seat, I leaned my head on the steering wheel and wondered to myself what in the world I was going to tell Ash.