“Okay. Well, I’ll let you get settled in. Dinner will be in a couple of hours. I’ll let your roommate know you’re here.” With that he leaves me to the empty room.
FOUR
It’s just before dinner that I finally meet my roommate. Marshall Ames. Big black guy from El Paso. He had said first he was in one of his counselling sessions, and then he had wanted to get a workout in, and after that, he just wanted me to get comfortable with the place before he pushed himself into my space. It’s very considerate of him, considering where we are.
Marshall seems to be a cool guy. Though he did feel like it was no big deal to share his whole story with me right after introductions.
Apparently, Marshall is a sex addict. Damn near anything that moves, has legs, shit, has a pulse! Marshall wants to fuck it. Tells me it started when he was fourteen and this girl he went to school with, Jackie Fenton, showed him her tits. He became obsessed to the point where he was constantly looking for porn, trying to peer into the girls’ locker room at school, and finding ways to sneak into dressing rooms. When he started dating and then lost his virginity to Tina Reed, he was done for.
And not in the good, you’re my-everything, kind of way.
Since losing his cherry, Marshall has slept with nearly sixty people; the entire cheerleading squad – of all the time he was there - of his high school, many band nerds, and even some of his mom’s (no longer) friends. That was really the last straw for his parents to realize he had a problem.
Obviously.
But for Marshall, it was the look of complete heartbreak and disappointment on Tina’s face when she found out what he’d been doing.
He says he knew he was sick when he tried to rationalize it. Was it really cheating? He felt like he needed it all the time. Was that really cheating if he couldn’t help it? It was out of his control, so was he really in the wrong for going behind Tina’s back, fucking all those girls and women when she thought they were in love?
Guess she’d slapped him, told him now she needed to be tested because God only knows what he managed to pick up during his escapades. She also told him to drop dead and never speak to her again.
He vowed to change then and there.
He’s eighteen now. Can get out of this place of his own volition. But he won’t. He’s here to be better for Tina.
I hope everything works out for them. It’s a tough thing to deal with. I don’t know if I could get past those same transgressions, being with someone who fucks around, essentially making you share them, but I’m not Tina. And if she can…well.
At dinner, I look for Celia, but don’t see her. From what Marshall says, there are about two hundred and fifty young adults, ranging from ages fourteen to eighteen, in residence at Trinity Heights. And addictions run from hardcore drugs to self-abuse. There is an adult treatment center next door and according to Marshall, if he’s not fixed by his birthday, he’ll be transferring there. He’s pretty sure he’ll be out before then though.
Still, with so many people, I allow myself to believe that’s why I can’t find Celia. I also figure she’s probably doing the same as me; getting to know her roommate, the lay of the land and whatnot.
“So, what’s your story?” Marshall asks as he shovels mashed potatoes into his mouth. He’s like six-foot-five, two hundred and fifty pounds. I guess he played wide receiver for his high school’s football team before being placed in here. So he’s got a big appetite.
“I don’t have a story. My parents put me in here, that’s it.”
Marshall has a big laugh. It’s warm and comes from his whole body. “Bullshit.”
Rolling my eyes, I spear a piece of chicken onto my fork and shove it into my mouth. I don’t give in all throughout dinner. This leads Marshall to telling me all about the first time he scored a touchdown in peewee football. He seriously stretches it to last through the rest of our meal.
It’s when we’re back in our room that I can’t handle it anymore. I’m pretty sure he knew I’d crack just to shut him up, but whatever. He gets an abridged version of my story.
I was a surprise to Estrella and Ashton Delane. My older brother Benjamin is twenty-seven. Apparently there were complications during his birth that made my parents decide they weren’t having any more children. Guess nature had other plans. One of them should have gotten fixed, that’s for damn certain, all things considered.
Eleven years after Ben, here I came.
And since Ben is so much older, he was having parties long before I was old enough to understand what was going on. That meant access to alcohol at an early age.
I mean Ben was having parties in high school as I was exiting kindergarten, for fuck’s sake. So the knowledge of alcohol, and the ability to stumble upon and get it was fairly easy. And since Ben was their chosen child, wanted and cared for, Estrella and Ashton never really paid too much attention to the fact that he was underage drinking and partying in their house, with their very young and impressionable younger son in attendance.
I learned a lot from those parties. How to mix drinks. What tasted best. What to avoid to stave off a hangover. I was the cute little kid and all his friends thought it was hilarious to watch me drink until they got tired of my presence. Well, until Ben would get pissed off and kick them all out because he thought they were merely messing with me, not that they were giving me booze.
And then the night, long after Ben had moved out, starting his own life, I drank too much. And I mixed the liquor I’d snatched with Percs I’d found. Bad combination.
My ass ended up in the hospital to have my stomach pumped – where my fucking father worked no less.
“And that’s why I get to be here now.”
“So you have the potential to be an alcoholic because you’re parents are assholes.” He’s not asking, he’s stating. I nod and feel like a loser because when stated like that, it sounds pathetic.
“I’m sure you want to laugh at me. Poor little rich boy, mommy and daddy don’t love him,” I mock myself so he doesn’t have to.
“Hardly.” Marshall sits forward on his bed. “My dad is a dentist. My mom is a stay-at-home mom. They’ve worked hard for the life they have. It hasn’t always been the easiest thing for them, being this color and getting ahead. But they persevered. Here I came, screwing it all up for them. I love sex. I’m working on that. But I had their love and support and I still messed up. I don’t know what would have happened to me if my parents treated me like I’m second-class. Or worse, invisible. From the sound of it, you do what you’re supposed to but it’s not enough. You’re poisoning yourself because it helps make you not feel anything. It’s just a crutch. It doesn’t make you pathetic. It makes you human, and humans need that reassurance and support, especially from their parents.”
I still feel pathetic long after that conversation ends. But I keep those thoughts to myself. There’s no point dwelling on it though. Doesn’t change the situation or how I feel.
The following weeks I meet with doctors who help me detox from the alcohol and the pills I had been taking periodically. It fucking sucks. If I’m not sweating out what seems to be alcohol, I’m shivering because of those stupid pills. Apparently I’m doing as good as expected though, so there’s that. I also meet with Chuck several times. Though the story I gave him is even more abridged than the one I tell Marshall. I don’t really want to talk to anyone about my problems. I don’t want to deal with my issues because there is no way to solve them. Regardless of what the good people at Trinity Heights seem to think.
I now have a schedule I must keep. Breakfast, schoolwork, counselling session, lunch, more school work, group once I’m ready, and dinner. Rinse and repeat. Yay, me.
I still haven’t seen Celia since that first day. And I’m not embarrassed to admit to looking for her at every opportunity. Marshall caught me once while we were in line to get lunch. I tried to deflect since I apparently am so obvious. It didn’t work. The deflection, I mean.
“What are you lookin
g for?”
“What? Nothing. I’m not looking for anything.”
“Bullshit.” That’s Marshall’s favorite word. It gets really old to hear after a while.
I decide to just tell him before he starts telling me another story about his youth football days. At this point, I don’t even want to know how many more he has. “Fine. There was this girl I met on my first day while waiting to check in. I was just looking to see if I could find her. It’s not a big deal.”
“Bullshit,” he repeats and I roll my eyes. Yeah, it’s old already. “You’ve been looking this building over since you got here.”
“Whatever man.”
“What’s so special about this girl to get you stretching your neck so far?”
I won’t allow myself analyze his question too deeply. Marshall has a sickness that makes him “hit it and quit it” to the point of grotesque perfection. I mean obviously if he was banging his mom’s friends. Still, he cares about Tina, and is trying to get better so they can have a future, but for the most part, his thought process is not settled on long-term. Other than Tina, I doubt he’s ever bothered to chase tail his entire life. If one didn’t work out, he moved on to one that was willing. Tina, having a real relationship and being someone she can trust is a new thing for him. He’s a work in progress.
Still, I think back to the brief moment in the lobby and my first meeting with Celia. There wasn’t anything outstanding that sticks out in my head. We met. We shook hands. We parted ways. Perhaps that’s a big part of the why. It wasn’t a remarkable encounter and that means everything.
“She’s gorgeous, for one thing,” I blurt and kind of regret it. Last thing I need is the sex fiend taking an interest in Celia. I’d gone years of having girls throw themselves at me, the most recent being Britney, but I turned them all down no problem. Never even required a cold shower later to get over it. Five seconds after noticing Celia and my body felt like a live wire. There’s gotta be something going on there for that to happen. So yeah, I really don’t want the sex addict to take a notice of her. “I don’t know. She just seemed different than all the girls I’ve ever known. Like she wasn’t trying at all.”
“Hmm. Do you know why she’s here?”
“Uh, yeah. She said she was here because of heroin.” I feel like I betrayed a confidence in this moment, even though everyone finds out everyone’s issues sooner or later. Still, though.
“Oh well, that might be why you have yet to see her.” Marshall is chowing down on a salad and it’s making my stomach turn. Since my detoxing started, I haven’t had any real desire to eat. Gatorade has become my best friend. I stare at Marshall, hoping he’ll get the hint that I need more of an explanation than what he gave. He finally seems to notice. “Just think of how shitty it’s been for you, trying to get that crap out of your system. This girl of yours is probably going through worse. I doubt she’s left her room for much the last few weeks.”
It’s something I hadn’t considered. I mean I’ve seen movies with addicts going through a detox. It’s not pleasant in the least bit. And if my experience is any indication of how shitty things are, I’ve no doubt Celia’s experience has to be horrible, if not worse. “I hadn’t really thought of that.”
“Obviously. You’ve been kinda busy lately.” I appreciate Marshall’s openness with me. He’s not mocking. He’s not harsh. He just tells you what you need to know and moves on from it. Though I do feel a slight twinge of jealousy at how less shitty his “detoxing” probably was comparatively. “She’ll probably be coming around soon though. Unless her health is in jeopardy, which I haven’t heard any rumours of and I tend to get all the scoop.”
In the end, Marshall turns out to be right. Three weeks after meeting Celia for the first time, I finally see her again.
I’m just getting to my session with Chuck when I notice her. Standing in the hallway, outside of Stacey’s office, she’s got a long gray sweater on over light blue tights or leggings or something. Her hair is again in a ponytail. It doesn’t look as shiny as it did on that first day.
“Celia? Hey,” I say as casually as I can muster. I’ve been thinking about this girl nonstop since we parted ways. Well, when I wasn’t sick as a dog from the detoxing at least.
“Hey…Chace,” she says slowly and then beams when my name comes to her. Given what I’m sure she’s been going through, I’m surprised she remembers me at all. “Wow. How’s things going?”
I laugh at our awkward conversation skills. “Good. Got a session right now.”
“Yeah, me too.” She points toward Stacey’s office with a grimace.
I scuff my shoe against the white linoleum trying to come up with a way to keep her from thinking I’m lame. “So, how have things been going?” It’s a stupid question, but I have never had to meet now people. Not really, anyway. I’ve had the same friends since I was a kid for the most part.
“Uh, not so great,” she grimaces and leans against the wall. There are chairs for us to sit in near the counselor offices, but neither of us are looking to sit. “I mean I didn’t even use all that much but the past few weeks, I’ve felt like a Mack truck hit me, backed up over me, and the hit me again.”
I nod because it’s the same for me. I drank. Not all the time – it really was not an everyday thing like my parents want to believe, and the pills were not a regular occurrence for me, but going without after having both readily available to me has been horrifically bad. “Yeah, I know how you feel. So, how’s things going with Stacey? I’ve only met her once, but she seems nice.”
Celia nods. “Yeah, she is. But I don’t know if she likes me too much.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t really say anything.” She looks down like she’s ashamed.
“What do you mean?”
A shoulder shrugs as her head rises. Piercing brown, almost hazel eyes meet mine and I inhale sharply. There’s something in her gaze that has my nerves on edge. “I don’t tell her what she wants to hear. I don’t tell her why I used, how I started or anything.” She looks toward Stacey’s door with a sigh. “I don’t want to be here. But I don’t have anywhere to be. Mom’s dead and dad hates me.”
I don’t say anything right away. I’m sure the staff here know Celia’s mother is gone, but I have a feeling she wasn’t the one to tell them. I have a pretty strong feeling I’m the first person she’s really said anything to. That both makes me honored to be trusted, and saddened for her.
“Um, listen,” I begin but just as I go to speak again, Stacey’s door opens and a girl I’ve never seen before steps out.
“Lauren, work on those steps tonight and we’ll talk more in group tomorrow.”
Celia pushes off the wall, and gives a slight nod to the one called Lauren as she heads toward the hall leading to the dorms. I’m curious how they know one another when I haven’t ever seen this Lauren and Celia has been MIA for the past three weeks. It’s not the time to bring it up though.
“Cecelia, you can come in now.” Stacey offers me a quick smile before disappearing back into her office. She looks a little frazzled so I’m not insulted by the lack of real greeting.
“Well, that’s me.”
“Yeah, so like I was starting to say, do you wanna sit with me at lunch today? Maybe,” I tack on at the end so I don’t feel like a complete loser when she says no.
“Um, I mean yeah. Sure.”
It’s ridiculous the way I have to rein in my emotions because of this girl. But I manage to contain my goofy smile at her agreement. “Okay. Great. Um, I usually go right after I’m through here so…I mean, if you’re done first you could wait for me and vice versa?”
There’s a smirk playing on Celia’s lips. She’s laughing at me, a little bit at least, but I’m okay with it. She’s not full-on embarrassing me for my rambling so I’ll let her have this. Besides, I like the way the smirk reaches her eyes. The way it makes me want to kiss it off of her. And yeah. Thank god my session with Chuck is about to counse
l all these thoughts out of my head.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
Just then, I see Chuck’s door open. I don’t see who walks out and I don’t really care, I just hear my name called. With a smile at Celia, I head toward my appointment. “Great. I’ll see you in a little.”
FIVE
“That interaction you had looked interesting,” Chuck says as we near the end of today’s session. After talking about how I’m feeling and whether or not my craving for alcohol is high today – it isn’t, by the way, Chuck tries to get me to talk about my family situation. In the beginning, I give him some things to work with. I tell him about the age difference between Ben and me, and how I was basically raised by a nanny until her death. In a lot of ways, Chuck tries to focus on my parent’s lack of involvement in my life, the loss of Connie and the departure of Ben as keys to my issues.
He’s not wrong. But then he’s not completely right either. That is the part that bugs him the most because he knows there’s a deeper issue here. Who knows if I’ll ever feel open enough to confessing it though? So I know his subject change, bringing Celia up is a tactic to get me to open up.
“I guess.”
“You want to tell me about it?” It’s such a silly question. What is this, gossip hour?
“Tell you what?”
“You met Cecelia on the day you were admitted here.” I stare at him like I think he’s stupid. I don’t know what he’s trying to get at and apparently he sees that. “Do you know what she’s here for?”
“Yeah, she told me.” He can’t talk to me about another patient here, so I’m wondering what his motive is.
“Do you feel a relationship, of any kind, given what you know, is healthy?”
Ah, so that’s his angle. I can’t help but laugh. I’m rooming with a sex addict. I have breakfast, lunch and dinner, walk the halls, will eventually attend group, and have classes – at least the test portions – with people who are drug users, alcoholics, you name it. “Really? Wouldn’t it be better for me to be locked away where no outside influence of any kind can get to me? Because being here, that question is a tad hypocritical, don’t you think?”
The Bitter (Addiction #1) Page 3