One month before Vinnie and Sadie graduated high school, Cecelia Santos was born.
She’s got her dad’s coloring, tan skin, caramel eyes and hair, though she doesn’t look anything like him, which leads me to think she got her looks from her mom. Which is to say, once upon a time, Sadie Jefferies had to have been fucking gorgeous.
It’s interesting to hear Celia tell me the story about her parents. She's not angry, more resigned than anything. Which is so much fucking worse, in my opinion.
Even though he’d wanted Sadie to terminate her pregnancy, in the end, it was Vinnie who felt the most for Celia, and that isn't saying much. Sadie ended up being a cold-hearted bitch, just like the people who raised her, only looking out for herself.
When Celia was three, Sadie left Houston without fucking letting Vinnie know, taking their daughter with her to Dallas. Being only twenty-one and a single mother was harder than Sadie expected it to be. Back home, she had Vinnie to rely on. He was always the one making sure Celia was fed, clothed and had a roof over her head. And since her family was piss poor, the Santos family was essentially providing Celia with everything she needed. In Dallas, Sadie was shit out of luck for anyone giving a damn about her or her kid.
She got jobs where she could. But in the end, since no one wanted to hire her with little to no experience, she started working as a stripper at one of the skeeziest joints in town. Stripping led her to Tony Dunbar. Dunbar led her to hooking. Hooking led her to the booger sugar.
After tasting coke, Sadie found heroin.
Celia found it through her mom.
One night, while her mom was out spreading it for the greater Dallas metropolitan area, Celia found Sadie’s stash. She was thirteen at the time. Curious. And you know what happens to curiosity….
Now Celia had watched enough television and movies to get a general idea of what the process entailed.
She only used a little. She hadn’t wanted to kill herself or make it obvious she had done anything. Addicts always seem to know when their stash has been messed with. But that little amount was enough to make her hooked.
Little by little, Celia would raid her mom’s purse, find what she needed, and be on her way.
Two years later, when Celia was fifteen, Sadie Jefferies was found dead near a ravine. As reports go, she was just another Pro killed by a John who was never caught. Celia believes her mom tried stealing from Tony though and he killed her for it.
Don’t mess with fucking John’s and all that shit.
Either way, her mom’s death put her back in Houston and back with her dad. A man who had no idea how to raise a girl much less wanted to, and even though he hadn’t been the one to walk away from Celia, he hadn’t really made as big an attempt to find her once her mom left. That left a bitter taste in Celia’s mouth.
It made her wonder if he really cared about her as much as he told children’s services when they dropped her off.
It also made her wonder how much harder it would be for her to get away with things. Her dad was a cop. The sheriff. Yet he worked more than she saw him. And just because she didn’t have as easy of access to her drug of choice, it didn’t stop her need.
It just made finding it a little harder.
But Celia’s an attractive girl. And she used that to get what she wanted.
She doesn’t say what exactly, and I’m good not knowing. I do know she didn’t spread her legs for it, thank god, I just don't know the lengths she was willing to go to. I mean I’ve heard of people killing for drugs.
Either way, one of the hits she took was laced with something. Her dad came home to find her passed out in the kitchen, a needle sticking out from behind her knee, and blood on the floor.
She was rushed to the hospital, almost died, and wasn’t even given a chance to say anything before her dad had her checked into this shitastic place.
I give the rest of my story. Telling her about how I found alcohol, the way Ben nearly had a heart attack as result, but that his panic didn’t detour me from drinking. I tell her how my parents had gone out of town – again – and I threw a party because friends wanted one. I tell her about Nolan and how he found me and that’s how I ended up in the hospital my father works at having my stomach pumped. I tell her about talking to the shrink in the hospital, how I just wanted to know what it felt like for my parents to hug me, love me and all that got me was a ticket to rehab.
In the hour we’re given for dinner, I find my soul mate. That’s not to say I’m in love with Celia and think we’re going to spend the rest of forever together. No, not that type of soul mate. She’s someone who can see the loss, the lack of affection that I’ve been dealt in this life, and that regardless of the material things provided for me, what I really need is my parents to be parents. And I see that she needs someone, anyone to look at her as something other than a burden, or a mistake. She needs to not be pushed aside because something will always be more important.
Back in my room later that evening, Marshall gives me shit for “choosing pussy before homies,” but I can see he’s only teasing. At least this time he is.
“She’s definitely hot. No doubt about that. Not like them skinny chicks walking around here all skin and bone. Cecelia Santos is fine, my man. Sure she was on heroin?”
I nod. “Found it at thirteen but only used enough for the high. She didn’t want anyone at her school finding out.”
“Understandable. I just never expected to see an addict look like her.”
I don’t let the image of her enter my mind. As we finished dinner, she’d taken my pinkie finger, connecting it quickly with hers. That act was completely innocent, but it was the moment she brushed her thigh against my thigh as she turned more toward me that did me in. I was hard in seconds and completely mortified to have her notice. It took thinking about my mother naked to steal my erection away and just in time too, because only moments later, Celia was standing to leave the table.
So I can’t really think about her too deeply because then I’ll want to think about her, well, deeply, and given my inability to take a cold shower at the moment, it’s not a good time.
“What are you thinking so hard about over there?”
Looking up, I notice Marshall standing before me. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I shrug. And lie. “Just…Celia told me her story. All of it, you know? She won’t tell Stacey, or anyone else for that matter. Guess I’m wondering why me?” Okay, so not a complete lie because I am wondering.
“It could be as simple as the two of you meeting that first day. It could be because you both have asshole parents. Or she likes you.”
“It’s too early for that.”
“Really? So, you don’t like her, even a little bit?”
“Whatever, that’s not the point.”
Marshall laughs with a shake of his head. “It really is, but I’ll let you live in denial for right now.”
I wave him off and pull out my iPod. Maybe if I lose myself in some music for a while, things won’t be so confusing. I doubt it, but I hope.
SEVEN
“Hi. My name is Cecelia Santos, and I’m addicted to heroin.”
“Hi, Cecilia,” the room responds back.
She stands with her eyes downcast, her shoulders hunched, and her face drawn. Her hair is limp, her ponytail hanging loose against her neck. Her skin is pasty, and her clothes wrinkled. There’s no effort being made for this moment at all.
“It’s been six months, three days, and about nine hours since I used last but it still feels like three hours. Or three minutes. Every day I itch for another hit. Every day I wish I could have one more taste.” Her fingers wring around each other, pinching until pink turns to white. “I… I know I have a… problem. I know that. I know what I’ve done can kill me. But….”
“But?”
“But I don’t think I should be here.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because this wasn’t my choice,” she responds. “The only reason I’m
here is because my dad put me in this place without asking. If not for that, if I were older, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Where do you think you'd be?”
“In a better life.”
She sits without the prompt. Finished. She won’t say anything else.
The director, Stacey, is frustrated with Celia. She’s not following protocol. But this isn’t the first time. Every group Celia introduces herself, states her addiction, states the amount of time that’s passed. And every day she says the same thing. She shouldn’t be here.
Welcome to the club, honey.
But that bothers Stacey. She’s being paid to help get us to open up. She’s being paid to help us. And what do we do?
Not allow it, that's what we do.
With a shake of her head at Celia, Stacey has opened the floor up once more.
“Hey. My name is Chace Delane. I’m here because I have an addiction to alcohol and prescription medication.” I’ve stood, taken the pressure off of Celia, turning Stacey’s attention away. Her blue eyes find me and I can tell she’s just waiting. “It’s been six months and I don’t really know how many days and hours since I last drank or popped a pill.”
“And how do you feel?” Stacey asks. I can hear the hopefulness in her voice. Maybe this one will be different, is written all over her face.
Sorry to be a disappointment.
“Like shit,” I answer honestly. It’s only been six months. There’s no miracle here. It isn't even about needing the hit. That's a cover for the bigger issue, the one Celia and I share. Unfortunately for Stacey, we don't feel comfortable enough exposing it. Only our parents should hear that truth but they won't because it's not convenient. “When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I want is to find something to drink. At least at this point in my treatment. It was never so much about the pills. They were just used recreationally. But I’d kill for even just a beer.” Celia is watching me as I speak. Her stare makes my skin tingle. And that tingle is becoming something I’m more and more of aware of every second of everyday I’m here.
To be honest, I’m not exactly telling the truth about needing the beer. Yeah, I drank enough that I want something. But the way my body reacts, the way my brain scrambles and every sense seems to sharpen anytime Cecelia is anywhere near me, well, that makes me understand the addiction I’m in this shithole getting treatment for isn’t the problem at all. “Like Celia I don’t think I should be here either.”
“And why’s that?” Stacey asks again. I can see her shoulders slump. Defeated.
“If it wasn’t for my parents throwing me into this place, I wouldn’t have chosen to be here. But this was easier for them. Not me. This is all them. Nice and tidy way to clean up the mess.”
I too sit without prompt. Stacey looks around the room, around our circle, hoping to find someone who will give her a little bit of hope for this session.
Suddenly, I see her eyes light up.
“Name’s Marshall Ames. I am addicted to sex,” my roommate stands and states. “It’s been nearly thirteen months since I last engaged in sexual intercourse, attempted self-pleasure, or tried to sneak a peak of the female form.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“I’ve got mixed feelings on it,” Marshall begins. “On one hand, I’m glad I’ve been able to control my urges. To finally abstain like a normal person.”
“But?”
“But on the other hand, I feel unhinged. Sex feels good. And I miss it.” He looks down, a small smile on his face. “I miss my girlfriend most of all.”
“How have things been going between the two of you?” Stacey asks. This go-around is clearly better for her. And my roommate has never been shy about sharing in group.
“Good. Well, better.” Marshall’s cheeks tint pink. He’s a big guy, played football, so to see him blush is a sight to behold. “She’s allowed to visit me now. We’ve been talking. Fixing things. I’ve been fixing things.”
“That’s good, Marshall.”
“Yeah, I’m hopeful. I really screwed up with her and this is my chance to make things right. The fact she talks to me at all is a flipping miracle on its own.”
“Where is right for you?”
Marshall shrugs. “I don’t want to be a disgrace to my family. I don’t want my mom to look at me with disgust. Working things out, fixing everything isn’t a possibility, I know that. But if I can get one person back on my side that I hurt? The rest is easy.”
Group continues in this manner. Our group of twelve stand, state their name and addiction, and report any improvement or setback. Everyone else who chooses to stand and share are much more forthcoming and open. They seem to want to get help. By the time group is up, Stacey looks better than she did when she had to listen to Celia or myself.
I know that means the two of us are going to have to have more one on one time with our therapists. But fuck it. Things aren’t going to change. Stacey, the parents, they’re just going to have to accept that.
Like we said, we don’t think we should be here. But for some reason, it’s not acceptable to be the daughter of a cop and also using illegal narcotics. And it’s also completely inappropriate to be the son of a doctor and drink your liver into oblivion. Who knew?
Sometimes, I’m told it’s my affluent upbringing that has made me this way. I’m not that loser who killed people and got off with a slap on the wrist. I know I shouldn’t drink at my age, especially at the level I do. I know right from wrong. I am trying to get better, I just don’t want to share like they think I should.
As for Celia, these people here can be sick and twisted.
I know on more than one occasion, Stacey or Chuck, has tried to get Celia to believe it was strictly drugs that killed her mom. They use her mom’s addiction as a way to “open Celia’s eyes.” But Celia knows her mom was a whore prior to ever finding drugs. That alone was enough of a concern for Sadie’s life.
So they don’t get far with her.
The others in group are okay to be around, though again, I prefer Celia’s company only. Lauren really is a nut job. I kinda think she’s starving herself because she’s in desperate need of mental help but since no one cares, she’s trying to find a way to be noticed. Okay, Celia thinks that. Guess Celia met Lauren’s mom and yeah. To Celia, it was all self-explanatory.
Something about beauty pageant Nazi or something like that.
Then there’s Scott, who is a drinker too. Brian, James and Sammy, who are pill poppers. Dana and Kacey are both bulimic. And to round out the group, Steve and Bobby. They’re both new. Have yet to learn their issue.
With group over, Celia and I are sitting under some of the trees surrounding the property. It’s sunny out, though the humidity hasn't reached drastic levels, and we’re taking advantage of it.
“Thank you,” Celia says after some time.
“For what?”
“Chiming in when you did.” She looks at me and I can see how exhausted she is. Her brown eyes are duller than normal, the luggage she carries under them more pronounced. “I know you jumped in because Stacey wasn’t liking my words today.”
“She doesn’t like your words any day.”
“Yeah, well.”
We are quiet after that. But I can see there is something Celia wants to say. So I wait.
And then she speaks.
“Chace?”
“Hmm?”
Instead of saying anything else, Celia reaches out her left hand. I look at in confusion before I watch her split her fingers apart.
There in between her middle and ring fingers, are tiny marks.
“What the fuck?” I nearly shout. Glancing around, I make sure no one heard my outburst before returning my focus back to Celia. “What the fuck?” I say again, this time quieter.
“My guy, the one from before,” she starts, a tremor to her voice. “He slipped me some down by the stream. I lied in group.”
I shake my head. We get regular testing done because th
ere is always someone who manages to sneak something in. I just never figured it’d be Celia.
“Are you crazy? They’re going to catch you, you know? And then you’ll never get out of here!” I whisper-shout because we both want out of here something fierce. Celia just clamps her hands together hard against her stomach and begins rocking back and forth. And it’s in that moment I realize something: Celia wanted me to know.
She wanted me to find out.
“Why?” I ask, softening my tone, calming my anger. I pull her arms from her body and take a hand in mine. I delicately caress the marks, noticing they’re not as fresh as I thought at first.
Celia sniffles, her face turned away from me. She seems so closed in on herself that I can’t figure out how the girl who irritated Stacey just a bit ago is the same one sitting beside me here. “I saw you.”
“You…saw me? Huh?”
“A couple weeks ago,” she sniffles again. Only this time, I see the sparkle of a tear leaving her eye before it falls down a now red cheek. “After group, I saw you with Sammy. You didn’t want to hang with me. Instead I saw you walking with Sammy. You held her hand, hugged her and let her kiss you on the cheek.”
I frown because I’m trying to remember what she’s talking about. I talk to a lot of people after group. Sometimes, if Celia has to head to her private sessions, I hang out with Marshall or some of the other guys. More often than not though, if I’m in the presence of a female, it’s Cecelia.
Apparently seeing I don’t know what she’s talking about Celia shakes her head, pulling her hand from mine. “Remember when Sammy talked about how her parent’s had written to tell her she was gaining another sibling?”
And just like that, everything comes back. Motherfucker!
It had been yet another failure to get Celia or myself to open up and so when Stacey got to Sammy, everyone was surprised to hear Sammy talk about how she was looking for a hookup since she’d received that stupid letter. She’d been fine for six months, maybe a little longer, but then the idea of a new baby made her itch again. In a shock to Stacey, and myself a bit too, I spoke up. Being that I was younger than my brother by a good margin, I understood somewhat. I said as much.
The Bitter (Addiction #1) Page 5