He chuckles, but I can tell he’s annoyed. I don’t understand what the deal is, and I know he won’t give it up. “I just want you to be careful, Chace. While it’s important to build relationships, to maintain the ones that can help you succeed, and move forward from the ones that bring you down, you are only just starting to your road to recovery. As is Cecelia. We only want you to get well and stay well.”
His words are sugarcoated enough that he can make it seem like he only has my best interest at heart. But I have a feeling there’s more to this issue. After dealing with my parents, and the way they tended to act sweet to your face while disparaging you behind your back, I’m not one to trust so easily the adults in my life.
“That’s all I want too,” I placate and rise from my chair. He’s not getting any more today. His disappointed sigh lets me know he doesn’t appreciate my attitude, but he can shove it, quite honestly. “I’ll see you Friday.” I offer a friendly, if slightly annoyed smile before stepping outside. To my small surprise, but complete glee, Celia did in fact wait for me. “Hey, you.”
Sitting across from the door I’ve just exited, Celia stands and greets me with a small smile. “Hi, back.” There’s a slight giggle in her words and I’m sure she’s still laughing at me, but I don’t care. Not after that session, and not after the fact she’s here still.
“Ready?”
“Um, yeah.” Her giggle disappears and she looks down toward her feet. “I haven’t actually been to the cafeteria yet. Is it very loud and crowded?”
“Oh, uh, it can be.” It’s funny; I never once had a problem following Marshall to dinner that first day. I never once thought about where’d I sit or who with because my roommate took charge and helped guide me. He’s made other friends here, a guy named James and some girl named Sammy. I guess they’ll be in the group I eventually join. It also helps that I was somewhat popular back home, easy to enter an unfamiliar situation. So I never experienced any of this alone. I’m suddenly glad I invited Celia. I get to return the favor of being there for someone.
The walk to the cafeteria is a short one. The room is filled with the smells of the food being prepared and the cacophony of the voices gathered. It’s a little intimidating for Celia I’m sure. I want to help her. I want her to feel comfortable, especially with me, and so with a quick glance at the windows, I note the sun shining. It’s July, so it should be nice enough to sit outside. Hopefully not too hot, but you never know with Texas.
“Do you wanna grab something and sit outside on the patio? It might be easier to deal with than fighting through this chaos?”
The looks she gives me is one of complete relief. I hold in my laugh because like I said, it was easy for me to deal with. Still I hold in my laugh because I don’t know this girl’s story. For all I know, she was bullied at her school and this is just a rehash of that.
I grab two grilled cheese sandwiches and some macaroni and cheese to go with it, as well as a water. I hold back my eye roll at seeing Celia make herself a salad. Where I went to school, every girl I knew and most I didn’t, would just eat a salad. They were always “watching” their weight, even if they were twig skinny. And then they would hardly touch the salad. I didn’t understand it. I didn’t think Celia was like that. And I can’t help my smile, or my own sense of relief, when I see her pile on hardboiled egg, crouton, bacon bits, lots of cheese, and a hefty serving of Ranch dressing onto her overflowing bowl.
It’s definitely not a dainty salad and that makes me feel better. Sometimes, I’m good with just a salad too. Especially if it’s as loaded as Celia made hers.
We sit at one of the tables with an umbrella, digging into our food. Eating in comfortable silence, I allow myself to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, and listen to the birds chirping in the near distance. We can’t really watch television here so I’ve enjoyed spending some time outside with nature. The point is to heal, not slouch around. I haven’t really missed TV much. Every now and again, when I know some game is on. But for the most part, I’m good with the peace this place seems to offer. Even if Chuck asks me questions or makes suggestions that grate my nerves.
“Stacey asked me what my relationship with you is,” Celia says out of the blue, as though she has been reading my thoughts.
“Did she now?” I shake my head wondering if the two counsellors were exchanging messages somehow. Texting behind their desks, perhaps.
“Yeah, she noticed our brief chat and wondered about it.” Celia eats a few more bites of her salad. “I told her I hadn’t seen you since my first day so I have no relationship with you. I don’t know why, but that seemed to please her.”
“Hmm. Chuck asked me what the deal was too. I can’t imagine what the big deal is either. I mean it’s not like either one of us is a serial killer or something,” I joke but it falls flat. Still, I am puzzled. “Chuck, without violating policy, said, given what you’re in here for, it would best for me to not form any kind of relationship with you. That it wouldn’t be healthy for my recovery.”
“Wow.” Her chuckle is dry and bitter. Join the club, honey. “Stacey didn’t say that, exactly, so I’m guessing I’m the bad seed here.”
And just like that, my heart drops. There is something broken in the way Celia speaks, the way her eyes seem hardened, and her smile not easily pulled. Without thinking, I reach across the table and take her small hand in mine. “I don’t feel that way. I don’t see you as bad or damaged or wrong for me. Fuck them. Okay?”
With a sideways glance toward the trees, I see her inhale deeply. “Okay.”
I squeeze her hand quick before dropping it. I don’t want to get either of us in trouble because I initiated contact. That’s a big no-no here. We’re not here to socialize; we’re here to heal. I have no doubt, especially after the interrogation we both experienced not even an hour earlier that we’re being watched.
“So, are you willing to tell me some things about you?”
“Like what?” She’s skittish, but seems less so than when we first sat down.
“Um, I don’t know. How ‘bout the easy stuff? Where are you from, birthday, favorite color, movie, song, stuff like that?”
“Oh, okay. Um,” she squints her eyes further, and not because of the sun that’s passed across the sky directly above us. “I’m from Sugar Land but lived in Dallas for most of my life until recently. My favorite color is maroon, movie is Roman Holiday, except for the ending. I think my favorite song is…Layla by Eric Clapton. Oh, and I turned sixteen in May. Your turn.”
“My sixteenth birthday was this past February. Born and raised in Houston. My favorite color is yellow, favorite movie is Forrest Gump and my favorite song is probably…Life As Is by Open Hand.”
She smiles at me again and my heart thunders. “I like that song too.”
“Yeah? Most people have never heard of Open Hand.”
“Yeah, it was a song I listened to a lot in Dallas.” She looks away again, her smile falling.
“So, I’m a few months older than you.” I decide to change the subject. As much as my curiosity is killing me to find out why she’s so sad, we’ve only just started really talking. I’m not scaring her away. “Do you have any siblings?”
“No. I’m an only child.” She looks back at me and holds my gaze. There is a storm brewing behind her eyes and it startles me. When she speaks again, I’m not prepared for it. “I wasn’t wanted. My father and his family wanted my mother to abort me and my mother’s family was out to get the money my father’s family has. My father has fucked his way through Houston and surrounding suburbs with the intent that he’s a perpetual bachelor with no responsibilities and my mother was a crack whore who prostituted herself out for drugs until her pimp killed her for stealing from him.”
I know I’m staring. I know that’s rude. But I am dumbstruck by what I’ve just heard. I almost think she’s fucking with me until I see tears build in her eyes. They don’t fall though. “I can’t…are you serious?”
“
Uh, yeah.” She sniffles and wipes her cheeks, though I never see a tear fall. “My father comes from a good family. He’s a sheriff because he gets a good paycheck and doesn’t have to do a whole lot. And he likes the control. My mom was bussed to the high school he attended because they like to bring poor kids in to supposedly give them a chance. Guess Vinnie Santos wanted to slum it up with my mom. Poor girl, saw dollar signs and gave it up quick. Found out about me before the summer of senior year.”
“And they tried to abort you?” The first thought I have is ridiculous. Logically and rationally. Did it hurt? Did you feel it? That’s impossible to answer. Who has memories of that time, anyway? Pre-birth, good lord. Then, once common sense prevails, I wonder if the reason she’s still here, sitting before me, is because they’d tried the back-alley approach, and it had, well, obviously failed.
I’d heard stories of a few girls at my school getting abortions. With their parent’s bank accounts and a promise of discretion, they’d travel to swanky doctors with big paychecks and flashy cars who cared nothing for anyone but their own bank accounts.
I take no sides in the debate; I can’t have a baby, so I don’t feel I have the right to even offer an opinion. But I never thought I’d meet someone in the crosshairs of it.
“Well, they fought about it for a while. By the time anything was even close to being decided, I was born.”
Well, at least that answers those questions. They’d come close but never made the move to actually aborting her. For some reason, that makes me feel relieved. As though this moment is vital to my life somehow, and without this girl here before me, everything would be wrong.
“So you’re mom wanted you?”
“Ha! No. My mom saw dollar signs just like her family. She didn’t want to be pregnant or have a kid, but her whack job parents convinced her she’d be living in luxury if she popped a precious Santos baby out.” Her face is filled with disgust. “In the end it didn’t even matter.”
“Why’s that?”
“She took off with me when I was three to Dallas,” Cecelia snorts. “Sadie wanted Vinnie to be some kind of prince to her. Wanted him to chase her, to fall to his knees and promise to give her everything her greedy heart could want. Vinnie Santos is not that kind of man. Hell, even with us living with him those first three years, he was stepping out on mom and occasionally bringing them home!”
I know I must have a look of disgust on my face. The man who treated Celia like she was a bother to him that first day, apparently has never looked in a mirror. “So, basically, you never had a shot?”
My comment brings her up short. I don’t know if she just never thought about it, not like I have, or if Cecelia buys into the bullshit spewed at her, but she appears startled for a moment.
“It doesn’t matter. And now she’s dead and I’m back with a man who hates the very sight of me. I mean shit, the way he acted at check-in is probably the nicest he’s ever been to me.”
“Wow.” I’m completely dumbfounded. And I feel like a complete douche for whining about my problems. My parents may be apathetic toward me, see me as a complete waste and a disappointment, but at least I’ve never heard about fights about getting rid of me. At least I’ve never heard outright their disdain for me. Not like Celia has, at least.
“Yeah. So that’s my story.” Her shoulders slouch and her body becomes so small. “I can’t believe I told you all that. You must think I’m such a loser, that I’m trash.”
“God no. Not even close.” I want to reach for her hand again, comfort her, but besides the fact her hands are in her lap, there are too many people around now for me to get away with the contact. Checking my wristwatch real quick, I note we have about fifteen minutes left in our lunch hour. “I don’t think you’re a loser. I don’t think you’re pathetic. I am so…honored, so completely honored that you trusted me with your story. That you trusted me, when I can tell you don’t trust easily.”
“I just…I needed someone to know, you know? And I didn’t want to talk to Stacey. She’s nice, but I feel like telling her won’t change anything.” Her cheeks tint pink though I can’t figure out why. “Not that telling you makes a difference but I guess maybe because you’re here too.”
I nod. I understand what she’s saying. “I’m eleven years younger than my older brother. Estrella and Aston Delane wanted Ben. Fought to get him born since there were complications. I however, was a complete and unwanted surprise.” I chuckle humorously. I wonder how many years have to pass before the bitterness goes away. “They ignore me more of the time, and look at me with contempt and disappointment the other times. I had a nanny growing up because they needed someone to deal with me so they didn’t have to. She died two years ago.”
I let my background hang in the air. I didn’t tell Celia my story so she feels better or to get it off my chest, like she had to. I told her because I need her to know she’s not alone here.
“So if anyone should feel like a loser, it’s actually me,” I say and she snaps her eyes to mine with a frown. “I had people who cared about me. Connie, my nanny, and my brother still does.”
“It’s not a competition. But it does suck.”
Lunch ends and I feel lighter somehow. It’s not getting my crap out in the open. Marshall already heard my story. And I’ve given a very short version to Chuck. But I think it’s connecting with someone on the same level. I don’t understand Marshall’s life. He has loving parents. Had a loving girlfriend. He made very bad choices, but has people who still love and care about him. He has people who want him to succeed. Celia and I, while different, seem to be the outcasts. The ones left behind or abandoned.
We aren’t wanted. While I know there are probably dozens of people here with that same problem, I don’t want that connection with them. I didn’t see their pain firsthand, their sadness by someone who is supposed to love and care for them no matter what.
SIX
I spend the rest of the day thinking about Celia. I get through my studies only half paying attention, too focused on meeting Celia for dinner. Marshall gives me shit as we walk to the cafeteria.
“You look like you’re glowing,” he mocks with fluttering eyelashes.
“Fuck you.”
“Guess you found your girl, huh?”
I shrug. Try to appear nonchalant. My eyes betray me though, as they search out the girl with the light brown hair and eyes. And then my lips betray me further when they pull into a smile at the sight of her.
“Yeah, you found her all right.” Marshall laughs before walking ahead, tipping an imaginary hat at Celia as he passes.
“Who was that?” she asks as I reach her.
“That’s my roommate, Marshall.” I want to take her hand, walk with her into the room like we’re together, but I see people staring so I refrain. “He’s a good guy. Sex addiction,” I tell her quietly.
“Wow. I always thought that was just in the movies.”
“Yeah, guess not though. He’s got an interesting story. A little sad though for some of the players, but yeah.” We get in line and I’m looking at the Frito Pie at the end of the row. Connie made the best Frito Pie and I miss eating it. “What about you? What’s your roommate like?”
“Oh um, Lauren. She’s an anorexic. Kinda whacked out, too. Constantly talks about being perfect for her mom.”
“How’s that going?”
“She has to work with one of the counsellors, Jenny, every day. They eat together too just so Jenny can see if Lauren actually ate for the day. It’s actually pretty sad to see. She’s not skin and bones, but I imagine when she came in here a few months ago, she was.”
“That’s too bad. That she’s so sick, I mean.”
Celia nods as we take our trays, Frito Pie for me, spaghetti for her, to a table away from everyone. I see Marshall look Celia up and down appreciatively as we pass, and it makes me a little uncomfortable. Like I said, I don’t want him taking an interest in her, but I don’t want to make a big deal about it. At leas
t not yet.
Dinner plays out much the same way lunch did. We continue to discuss our lives and what led us to Trinity Heights. I learn a lot about my new friend, including intricate details, and let her learn about me.
For starters, I learn that old line about being the product of your environment has never been truer.
Celia’s parents never married. Vincent “call me Vinnie” Santos, not yet Sheriff, knocked up Sadie Jefferies when both were seventeen. It was a tumultuous relationship from the start. While Vinnie’s family had some middle class money to their name, Sadie’s family was the stereotypical “wrong side of the tracks” white trash type. The Santos family did not want Vinnie associating with a girl who was bussed into the district because she was poor and some people felt bad for her. They expected their son to find a good little rich girl to woo and eventually marry and knock up. Considering his douchey bachelor ways even before Sadie took off, Vinnie Santos never had any plans to settle down.
That’s not to say the Jefferies were rays of sunshine. Celia’s mom’s family were tickled fucking pink at the thought of Sadie hooking up with someone with a little bit of dough in the bank. They all but celebrated when the line turned pink positive. It didn’t matter that Sadie was now a teen statistic, or that she was pregnant with something worth more than dollar signs.
So there was trouble in the relationship.
It all makes me wonder what would have become of them had their families not been gigantic assholes. Could they have made it work? Would Cecelia’s life have been less of a crapfest? Probably not given who Sadie and Vinnie are or were, but still. Of course since that didn’t happen, the moment Sadie found out she was pregnant, regardless of what her family thought, Sadie blamed Vinnie, Vinnie wanted Sadie to get an abortion. It’s my understanding the condom broke. There was a long fight about who was to blame, and before anything was resolved, Sadie went into labor.
The Bitter (Addiction #1) Page 4