Passion Relapse

by Jack Fisher

  “I know what you’re saying. I want to be really pissed at you right now so I can storm off. That would probably be easier,” Mary said.

  “So, what’s stopping you?” Peter asked.

  “For one, the alternative is going back home and spending the rest of the night being both pissed and miserable. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not do that.”

  “Can’t say I blame you,” he conceded.

  “The other thing is—” Mary had to stop herself mid-sentence. She struggled to put into words what she hoped to gain here.

  “I think you just made my point,” he said as he turned to leave. Her hesitancy had obviously added to his reluctance.

  “Wait! Don’t go,” urged Mary, grabbing his wrist before he could walk away. Peter stopped where he stood. Now he looked uncomfortable. She must have seemed pathetic, a far cry from the confident girl he remembered. To his credit, he didn’t walk away and he listened with genuine concern.

  “I’m sorry. I just… It’s been a while since I reached out to someone for both the right and wrong reasons,” Mary said.

  “Right and wrong?” questioned Peter.

  “Yes. Wrong in the sense that this program frowns on private meet-ups with the opposite sex, but right in the sense that I want to reconnect with a part of my life where I didn’t have so many problems.”

  “It still sounds like we’re tempting fate…among other things.”

  “Maybe we are, but at some point, we have to prove we can handle it,” Mary said. “I know you are new in the process, but I’m coming up on a year in this program. I want— I need to show I’ve made some headway. And if you’re going to make that same progress, who better to help you than the girl you once dared to eat worms?”

  She’d made it sound more pragmatic than it really was, but Peter still laughed. It also helped hide how little Mary had thought this through. She had been overthinking a lot of her actions lately, often to the point of frustration. She needed to take a chance again. It might as well be now, with an old friend who understood the rigors of being a recovering sex addict.

  “When you say it like that, I wish I had some worms with me,” Peter said.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” Mary said, rolling her eyes.

  “It’s a yes,” he said. “Just promise me we’ll pig out on greasy food and sugary soda in the least sexy way possible—you know, for good measure.”

  “Deal.”

  Chapter Three

  #xa0;

  A lot of things had changed in Hartman County over the past ten years, but Canicci’s Pizza wasn’t one of them. The place still made the best pizza in the state. It still operated out of the same ugly brick building along North Ridge Drive, just two blocks away from Mitchell Junior High School. That made it a popular after-school destination for generations of hungry students who couldn’t stomach the cafeteria food. For Mary and Peter, it had been both a pit stop and a sanctuary.

  Mary had left the community center feeling tense after her unexpected reunion with Peter. They’d ended up driving in separate cars to avoid any further awkwardness. Then, when they’d met outside, walked through the front door and smelled that distinct Canicci’s Pizza aroma, Mary’s tension had faded. After a couple of slices and a large soda, Mary almost forgot that she’d just come from a treatment program for sex addicts.

  “Wow. I didn’t realize just how much I missed this place until fifteen minutes ago,” Peter said, his mouth still partially full. “I don’t know what they served me in Los Angeles, but it sure as hell wasn’t this good.”

  “Glad to hear the west coast didn’t completely ruin your palate,” Mary said, who still had half a slice left.

  “It ruined a lot of things in my life, but my palate isn’t one of them. That’s not to say it didn’t try. I guess I have a low threshold for kale, soy and organic salads.”

  “I don’t care how health-conscious you are. Everyone needs something greasy and fattening to balance out their diet.”

  “Or just balance in general,” Peter said. “I think you and I know the value of that better than most.”

  “More like we know the problems that come with being so unbalanced,” Mary said.

  Good food and fond memories had helped make the evening seem less arduous. Being a recovering sex addict gave Mary a strong appreciation for anything that distracted her from her problems, especially after a CHAOP meeting. A big part of the treatment involved finding new activities and outlets that guided addicts away from their addiction. This might not have been what Sister Angela had in mind, but it did the trick.

  Reconnecting with an old friend from her childhood helped Mary feel less overwhelmed about her lack of progress. She didn’t have many people from her past that she kept up with. There were many reasons for this and not all of them were good ones. Peter Rogers had somehow slipped through the cracks, and Mary felt lucky that of all the men it could have been, it had been him.

  “So, tell me more about Los Angeles—well, minus the problems we know all too well,” Mary said.

  “What’s there to tell? That’s where I moved with my family after I left Hartman County. That’s where I went to school, made new friends and set up a new life…until I ruined it, that is,” Peter said.

  “You’ve already told me the basics and you told everyone else back at CHAOP how you did that. I’m more interested in what happened in between.”

  “Interested because you’re genuinely curious? Or interested because you don’t believe the details?”

  “Does it have to be one or the other?” retorted Mary. “You left Hartman County so suddenly. One day, I’m hanging out with my friend. The next, I hear you have three weeks to pack because you’re moving to the west coast. And I don’t remember getting an explanation beyond your dad getting a new job.”

  “Yeah, I guess I owe you an apology for that,” Peter said sheepishly.

  “No, you don’t. You were fifteen. You had no control over the situation. I was fourteen and had even less. We were too old to cry about it but too young to make sense of it. We were at that perfect age where we had a valid excuse for drifting apart.”

  “I miss having those kinds of excuses.” He sighed.

  “We all do. I also miss having someone who knew me before I started filling out bras and thongs. And I’d like to know what happened to my friend after I began my descent into addiction, so to speak.”

  For a moment, she sounded exactly like her younger, pre-addict self. She remembered being very upset when she’d found out that Peter was moving, so much so that she’d pushed him away to some extent. Now, after over a decade apart, Mary had a chance to make up for those poor decisions. Compared to the many she’d made later in life, it was minor at best, but any bit of progress helped at this point.

  “Well, that friend didn’t forget about you or the impact you had on him, so take comfort in that,” Peter said.

  “I do. Then again, my impact on you was never in doubt,” Mary said coyly.

  “Point taken,” he said. “I needed that because I arrived on the west coast full of doubt. I didn’t know what I wanted to be or how I would fit in. My parents sure didn’t make it easy. They got so caught up in their careers that they left me and my sister to our own devices.”

  “It could’ve be worse,” shrugged Mary. “How did your little sister handle it, anyway?”

  “I’d…rather not talk about Britney. That’s a very sore subject, and if it’s all the same to you, I don’t want to dwell on it.”

  “I understand completely. Dwell on whatever you feel comfortable with. The last thing I want to talk about is another sore subject.” Part of her remained curious. Mary hadn’t forgotten about Peter’s sister, but she had never been particularly close to her. Having already taken a few chances tonight, Mary opted to focus on less melodramatic issues.

  “There’s a lot I can tell you about living on the west coast,” Peter continued. “It’s a very different world. Hartman County might
as well be another planet by comparison. It was either going to eat me alive or make me stronger.”

  “If your biceps are any indication, I think it’s clear who won the fight.”

  “And a big part of that is because of you,” he said. “You remember how I was as a kid. I may have been adorable in the eyes of my parents, but I knew the truth. I was a walking can of pudge who would use any excuse to get out of gym class.”

  “I still remember the day you wrapped your toe in bandages and claimed it was broken. Good times,” teased Mary.

  “It worked, but those kinds of excuses don’t cut it in a place like LA. It’s a glitzy, glamorous town where everyone thinks they have what it takes to be the next big thing. I probably would’ve become bulimic if I hadn’t met you. From the day we met until the day I left, you kicked my ass to get me motivated. You saw that I didn’t like being a pudgy little dork. You went out of your way to help me do something about it.”

  He made it sound like she’d belittled him into bettering himself, but he’d shown how grateful he was that she’d done that. Mary remembered those days fondly, more so than he probably did.

  “We couldn’t have been more different,” Peter said. “You were this adorable little tomboy who had so much energy. I honestly can’t remember you hanging out with any girls. You preferred running around with the guys, proving that you could be as strong and as tough as them. And, unlike most of those guys, you worked for it.”

  “Just one of the many benefits of having two athletic older brothers,” Mary said proudly.

  “And you were all too eager to share those benefits. You got me off my ass and started working me out like a drill sergeant. You made me want to be stronger, faster and better. And whenever someone made fun of me for not being as fit, you had my back.”

  “Only because I liked picking fights,” Mary said. “It got me into trouble, but it toughened me up.”

  “It toughened me up, as well. That’s what made me more prepared than most when I moved to Los Angeles. I saw this glamorous world full of possibility. At the same time, I saw this overweight, dorky guy in the mirror. I decided early on that I was going to be better than that. I was going to use what you taught me to carve my place in that town. So, with all that motivation, I put in the work. The results? Well, I guess they speak for themselves.”

  Peter flexed his arms, showing off in ways he’d never dared to back when they had been kids. It was a testament to how much work he’d put into himself. He could’ve easily been competition during her days as a fitness model. All those fond memories of the boy she’d grown up with made the results even more impressive.

  As much pride as he clearly had in that physique, however, Peter still looked conflicted. He paused for a moment to finish his soda. When he set it aside, he stared distantly at the table. By all accounts, he’d succeeded in overcoming the physical limitations he’d had as a kid. However, these obviously weren’t the source of his problems.

  “As I got older and puberty worked its magic, I became a walking California kingpin,” Peter said. “I had the hair of a surfer, the body of an athlete and the competitive attitude of a Hollywood wannabe. It gave me so many advantages in high school and junior college, but what set me apart from the other pretty boys was how much I worked for it.”

  “In that sense, I think you earned the right to have an ego,” Mary said.

  “I did. And I’m not going to lie. I enjoyed it. I felt like I accomplished more than the other guys who had good genes or could afford a personal trainer.”

  “Sounds like you did. You deserved to enjoy it.”

  “And in a place like Los Angeles, the benefits are pretty damn sweet. You make a lot of good friends, meet a lot of hot girls and find a lot of nice job opportunities. I could’ve used those benefits in any number of ways. I still don’t know how I ended up becoming a firefighter, but it was just one of those things that fell into place.”

  He didn’t seem nearly as conflicted about that part of his life. He’d mentioned his job as a firefighter when he’d first introduced himself at the meeting. Mary remembered wondering what had led him down that career path, but it made sense.

  Peter had always been a guy who’d felt like he needed to do something meaningful with his life. That was a big reason why he’d responded to Mary’s efforts to whip him into shape as a kid. He could’ve done so many great things with a strong body and a tough work ethic. Saving people from burning buildings definitely qualified in her book.

  “Whatever you call it, I think you did okay for yourself,” Mary said. “Being a firefighter is way more respectable than my line of work.”

  “I don’t know. The world needs fitness models and personal trainers, too,” teased Peter.

  “Not as much as it needs people willing to put their lives on the line for total strangers. That’s a challenge that requires a whole different level of commitment.”

  “It also comes with a whole host of other benefits. You get respect from the community, a sense of accomplishment and skills you don’t get in a classroom or an office. Then there’s the camaraderie you feel with your fellow firefighters. That’s something most people don’t understand.”

  “Considering the cut-throat competition among models, I won’t argue that,” Mary said. “We’d sooner stab each other in the back than become friends.”

  “I guess it’s a by-product of having to rely on one another,” Peter said. “We didn’t just work together. We had to live, train and fight fire together. You never know when you’re going to get that call you might not come back from. Your best survival tool is often the guy standing next to you, so it helps that he really gives a damn.”

  The concept sounded so foreign to Mary. It really shouldn’t have—a group of people establishing close personal bonds through their work and shared goals. It once again reminded her of the tough, callous world she’d come from and how it had nearly destroyed her.

  She tried not to think too much about that. Every time she did, she got angry at herself for the choices she’d made. Peter had made very different ones that had put him in very different situations. However, he’d still ended up with the same problem—being an overwhelmed, overburdened sex addict who’d left everything behind. It only heightened her curiosity.

  “Sounds pretty special,” Mary said.

  “It was,” Peter said distantly.

  “Was? Or still is?” she questioned.

  “I know what I said. It means exactly what you think it means.”

  Now Peter looked to be the one getting angry with himself. He stared at his empty plate, gazing at his reflection. It seemed not unlike what she had done earlier with her reflection, seeing beyond the attractive surface and scrutinizing the problems that plagued him. She attempted to comfort him, but he didn’t respond.

  “All those benefits of being a firefighter helped make me a better man,” Peter said. “They made me proud of what I did. The more I helped people, the more I wanted to get better at it. But among all those benefits, I let one of them ruin everything —one that didn’t have to ruin anything. I guess that’s where you can trace the origin to my current host of problems.”

  “We don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to. You already told everyone the basics back at the meeting. There’s no need to repeat them,” Mary said.

  “I told them about the extent of those issues. I didn’t say anything about what caused them. There’s a reason, and you might understand that reason better than most.”

  “How do you figure?” she asked.

  “Because you also worked in an industry that had those benefits,” he replied. “I don’t want to assume, but I’m guessing you couldn’t handle them, either.”

  It was a crude, shallow assumption—the benefits of being an attractive female fitness model carrying some very suggestive undertones. There was no judgment in his voice, but it still annoyed Mary to some extent. However, she couldn’t argue with his logic.

  “That�
�s…not entirely wrong.”

  “Then I don’t need to explain to you how being a hard-working, physically fit firefighter attracts a lot of women. Bear in mind that this was in Los Angeles. I’m not talking about soccer moms and Sunday school teachers. I’m talking about women who spend more on their tits than most people spend on their first car.”

  “I lived in Miami, less than a block away from South Beach. I think I can imagine,” Mary said.

  “You’d still only know half the story. It’s the other half that nearly broke me.” Peter tensed up again. He began cracking his knuckles and making fists while still staring at his reflection in his plate. He looked downright angry with himself but not for the same reasons as Mary. If his expression was any indication, it involved something much more personal than sex.

  She briefly contemplated stopping him, but she chose not to. This was no longer about curiosity. Something really bad had happened to her friend and she had to know what.

  “You still remember how I was before I left, don’t you? Reserved, awkward and not nearly having enough confidence,” Peter continued.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Mary said.

  “Well, that didn’t change as much as you’d think after I became an adult. Sure, I was this big, strong guy who wasn’t afraid to work his ass off, but I was still reserved, to some extent. So, when all these beautiful women began throwing themselves at me? Well, it was pretty hard to refuse.”

  “No need to convince me. I know. Boy, do I know,” Mary said, “and, yes, that means exactly what you think it means.”

  “It still says more about me than it says about you. I worked so hard to get bigger, stronger and better-looking. I worked so hard to get into a job that I felt passionate about. When the women entered the mix, it felt like I’d earned it. I just ended up taking way more than I’d earned.”