Because I could relate, at least from the new baby’s point of view, I took Sammy aside after group and explained how much this new sibling was gonna look up to her, worship her, and love her. Because that was my view of Ben. In the end, yes, we hugged and she did kiss my cheek. I hadn’t thought it was that big of a deal. Guess I was wrong.
Guess I didn’t realize how Celia took my action, though I guess I should have said something before just walking away, especially considering the downward spiral she’d been on due to her father’s rejection.
“What do you think I was doing with her? Why do you think I spent that miniscule bit of time with her when every other time, I’m with you?” I can’t help the irritation in my voice. It takes a long time for your body to fully be rid of the chemicals you put into it, so technically, I’m still detoxing a bit which makes me moodier than I believe myself to be. But I am also confused as shit by Celia.
“I know it didn’t mean anything. I know you were helping her because you could understand a little bit. I know all of this, Chace.” She begins hugging herself tightly again, the rocking once again starting. “I know these things. But do remember what else happened that day?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to remember that day nearly a month ago. Every conversation, every meeting, every run-in that I had floats through my mind. Until… “Your dad canceled his visit.” She nods and more tears fall.
I feel anger, hot and thick burn through me. But I have no way to deal with it, no person to direct it at. I may fill my body with poisons, but even I know trying to lay flat a cop, the Sheriff no less, is not a bright move. I’m not that big of an idiot. Still, seeing Cecelia’s tears, feeling her pain, tears me up.
Sheriff Santos was supposed to visit his one and only child four weeks ago. He canceled instead, figuring Celia hadn’t been “punished” enough for what she’d done. He was a law enforcement officer, he was the Sheriff, meant to uphold the law, respect it. If his own child couldn’t do that when he was the pinnacle of law, how embarrassing. It amazed me, and funnily enough, bothered Stacey and Chuck a great deal too, that Sheriff Santos canceled. After all, part of healing and moving forward from addiction is having a good support system. Otherwise, the addict doesn’t see a point to staying clean. If no one cares about you or supports you, it cements your opinion that your drug of choice is the correct path.
When the two counselors questioned Celia’s dad on his choice, reiterating the need for Celia to have a support system in her family, especially after what happened to her mother, he told them he decided to push his first face-to-face meet back. Work was hectic, he’d said, and it wasn’t a good time to come.
Funny, but after several months and many, many canceled visits, there still has yet to be a convenient time for him to visit.
Celia had walked into group that day angry and upset. Worse yet, her father has yet to reschedule his visit with her, let alone take her calls or call her in turn. My parents had already visited all the times they were allowed. They may have looked upon me as a giant fuck-up, but at least the put up pretenses.
When Celia had told me, her eyes were hollow, her tone vacant of even the anger she’d shown earlier. And then I’d walked away to comfort Sammy. It was an honest miscalculation, a chance to fix something not yet broken, but decided at the wrong time when I should have known to stick by Celia. I did know, but I failed. And in her anger and hurt, she’d used again.
I knew she did it because it would prove her dad right. It would justify his distance, his lack of desire to see her. It would also justify the attention she so desperately sought out. And maybe in a way, though I hope this isn’t true, if it had killed her, it would have stopped the burden she felt she placed on everyone around her.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I say pulling her to me, not caring that there were rules against this kind of touching. With my arms wrapped tightly around her body, I press my lips to just below her right ear. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
“It’s so stupid,” she cries against my shoulder. “It wasn’t even jealousy. You jumped up and ran after Sammy, without a word, and all I could hear was my dad telling me I needed to fix myself further before he came up. That I wasn’t at a place yet where he could stomach seeing me after what I’d done. I’d disrespected him, his house with my choices and I needed to deal with my punishment.” She shakes her head, no doubt hearing her father’s voice speaking to her. “And then all I could hear was Chuck telling me my dad canceled, wasn’t rescheduling yet, and the only person I trust in this fucking place has just walked off. I knew my source was willing to send stuff to the stream since the beginning but I’d always avoided it. I’d always resisted because I really didn’t need it. But… that day was just too much.”
“How were you able to hide it?” I can’t believe I never noticed anything was different about her. I can’t believe I never realized she was using, that this person I care so strongly for was suffering so deeply that she didn’t care anymore. How selfish am I?
“I don’t know. I wasn’t trying. I completely expected to be tested and found out. I was actually counting on it. But they didn’t pull me in like usual.” She pulls away and wipes at her face. I can see she’s a little embarrassed admitting that seeing me with Sammy bothered her. We’re… friends. We’ve never kissed or acted like anything other than friends, to be honest, even though the way every part of me reacts just at the thought of her suggests more than friends is my game plan. However, we stick together. We support each other. We have a connection that no one else in this whole fucking place has. No lie, it’d bother me too if she just walked off with someone else. “In fact, I wanted them to find out so badly. I wanted the attention because then maybe my dad would have bothered with me. At the very least yelled at me, said something.”
I shake my head because the logic of an addict is faulty at best. “It’s his loss, baby. You know this.” She just sighs. She knew this once. I can’t fight that battle though, I’m not equipped for it. I can however, fix my mistake. “And for the record, you have nothing to worry about. I don’t want Sammy. Or anyone else for that matter.” I feel my face heat up. I’m going all in because my tongue is not letting my fear win here. “I mean I figured it’d be pretty obvious how pathetically I follow you around and all that you’re…well, yeah.”
“Maybe,” she replies, a small smile finally stealing to her lips. “But maybe, sometimes a girl just needs to hear it confirmed.”
It’s in the way she’s smiling that smile. In the way her brown eyes are wet and so bright. The way she’s looking at me and telling me what I’m pretty sure is exactly what I was looking to hear. Not because she thinks I want to hear it, but because she wants to say it.
“I’d do anything for you, Celia. Anything you want, I’ll do my very best to do it for you.”
She nods, fully understanding my meaning. And that smile grows till it makes her eyes crinkle. “Just so you know, I’d do pretty much anything for you, too.”
I glance around and find no one is looking at us. Inhaling sharply, I cup Celia’s cheek and lean in. I hear her breath catch just as our lips touch for the first time with soft, but welcoming pressure. It’s glorious and spine-tingling and nerve-wracking and the most amazing feeling the entire world.
Rehab. It’s a hell of a place to find romance.
EIGHT
We’re a month away from our year anniversary, and Cecelia and I are a year older as well. Seventeen, meaning we’re a step closer to escaping this shithole.
My parents came to visit, stayed about an hour and left. But they came nonetheless. I got a new iPod even though the one I already have is only a year old. I gave my new one to Celia. Ben also came to see me. He’s been to visit as many times as he’s allowed. He says he blames himself for my predicament, but I know he’s not.
He was so worried about me the first time he ever saw me drink. He gave up his friendship with Harry because of it. Unfortunately, and regardless of how sick I wa
s the next morning, I enjoyed the taste of the alcohol I had that night. Ben is not to blame. As much as I need my parents, and could have used their guidance, in a way, they’re not to blame either. Entirely. I’m not an alcoholic. I have a problem, but I hadn’t become an alcoholic yet. I was however, well on my way to becoming one.
Celia did not have the same experience I did. Her birthday was a subdued affair. Mostly. Well, it was at first. I mean rehab is not exactly the greatest place to celebrate turning a year older. But still, Chuck and Stacey tried to do something for her. The kitchen baked a double chocolate cake, and our group had tacos for dinner that night brought in especially for the night.
Even Lauren ate a good portion without a problem. She is a work in progress.
In a way, I think the whole thing was a big apology to Celia. Her father, he once again failed to show up for a visit. And once again, he made excuses and promised to reschedule. Seeing that Vinnie Santos couldn’t even be bothered to come visit his daughter at her birthday, the center seemed to have taken it upon itself to give Cecelia at least a little celebration.
Since that day in May, Sheriff Santos has come up. Once.
It was May fifteenth, and he showed up unannounced demanding to see his daughter. While I’d just finished, Cecelia was still in a private therapy session with Stacey at the time, but everyone could hear the Sheriff bellowing at the staff. When Celia emerged from the office, coming to stand beside me, and her father saw her for the first time in almost a year, it would be nice to say he fell to his knees and begged her forgiveness for his cruel behavior. It’d be nice to say he pulled her into a loving hug and told her he believed in her and was there for her no matter what.
All that would have been nice. If any of it had happened.
Instead, Sheriff Santos saw Celia and decided to call her every name he could think of. It would have been funny, the way his face turned purple, had it not been for the fact he was screaming obscenities at Celia. And in front of a good portion of patients and staff of Trinity.
“You worthless bitch! All this money I’m spending on your pathetic ass and still you act just like your whore mother. Why must you continue to embarrass me like this?” he’d asked, uncaring for the crowd gathered around. It was embarrassing, but I think out of the two of them, it was Sheriff Santos embarrassing Cecelia and not the other way around. Still, he continued to yell at her until several of the security and staff pulled him into a conference room.
Chuck had gone in with the ranting man, so Stacey and Jenny instructed those who had gathered to scatter. We had classes to get to, or something that didn’t involve this mess. Celia took my hand, hers shaking so bad I thought she might collapse from the ordeal, and with a dejected sigh, Stacey permitted me to stay before she and Jenny entered the conference room to a still shouting Vinnie Santos.
“I pay good money for that no good – “
His voice had carried but quickly disappeared behind the door. Cecelia fell to her knees and began sobbing in earnest. I’d had no idea what to do, how to handle the situation. One of the other counsellors, one I’d never met before but Cecelia seemed to know of, came and tried to soothe her. It didn’t work. So I wrapped her in my arms and rocked her back and forth.
For more than an hour, Celia’s father was behind that door. For more than an hour Celia cried and questioned what she’d done wrong.
After that hour was up, Sheriff Santos was escorted from the premises, but not before spitting one final insult at Celia.
“It really is a god-damn shame your mother refused to abort you.”
We didn’t make it to dinner that night. To be honest, we didn’t make it anywhere for the next few days. Well, Cecelia didn’t. She retreated to her room and took her meals there. She didn’t join group or try to get into contact with me. I’d tried asking Lauren how she was but all she could give me was that Celia wasn’t crying anymore. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or if it was a bad thing.
All I could think was how much of a danger this was for her health. Would she try using again? Her father’s abandonment from earlier had driven her to use. This was so much worse than that. Not only had he abandoned her, he’d humiliated her, degraded her and tossed her aside, publicly, like trash. So I couldn’t help but think this would drive her back to the needle. And that made me wonder, if she did use again, would she try to actually kill herself this time? I was terrified with possibilities.
And worse yet, I no longer had Marshall around to keep me from succumbing to overwhelming negativity and panic.
Right before his nineteenth birthday, Marshall had decided it was time to be an adult. To take responsibility for his actions and stop hiding behind the walls of Trinity, or its adult rehab center. He’d broke the news to me after dinner, his bags already packed and his walls bare. He said it was time, and putting it off any longer would only be a crutch he couldn’t afford to give in to. I understood, of course. Marshall is better. He’s emailed me a few times, including telling me how things were going with Tina after their reunion. So I’m happy for him. I just really needed someone to keep me from succumbing during that time.
I have a new roommate now, Trevor, a guy hooked on Crystal Meth who is in the infirmary more than our shared room, so even his presence at the time wouldn’t have been enough of a distraction.
The loneliness and worry left me on the verge of a panic attack, until five days after her father’s explosion, Cecelia sat beside me at dinner. Appearing out of the blue as my head was hanging low, my food untouched before me.
“I’m sorry I shut you out,” she’d started and all I could do was shake my head.
“Are you okay?”
“No. But I’ll just learn to get over it.”
I’d scoffed at that logic. She shouldn’t have to get over it. Not when it came to your parent loving and respecting you. My heart broke for her. Even more once I found out why her father had made his surprise visit and lashed out like he had. Apparently the good Sheriff had suffered a break in at his home the weekend before. Celia’s room had been ransacked. His home office destroyed. His large screen television had been stolen, as had some money he’d had hidden somewhere in his bedroom.
Apparently, rather than look at the break in as an unfortunate event, as Houston and surrounding areas had apparently had an increase in burglaries in recent weeks, or even looking at the fact that as a Law Enforcement Official, with a listed residence he was targeted for that reason alone, Cecelia’s father believed she had something to do with his home being wrecked. He had the audacity to claim she’d snuck out of Trinity and done the damage herself. When that was disproven, he’d changed tactics, claiming she was in contact with someone on the outside and instructed them what to take and where to look for the money.
Never mind the fact Celia had no idea her father had stashed money in his room since she’d only lived with him for a short time prior to being sent here.
When Stacey informed Sheriff Santos that our letters and internet use was highly monitored and therefore she couldn’t possibly have contact with anyone on the outside without their knowing, he shifted tactics and claimed she must have used code in her correspondence. But there was one thing her father never cared to know. It’s laughable in a tragic way, but Celia didn’t have many friends when she lived in Dallas. Her mother’s sickness and lifestyle, her own use of drugs, they made her isolated and introverted. And since she’d had very little time to really associate with anyone other than the dealer she’d met, she had no friends in Sugar Land.
She wasn’t just shy staying away from everyone her first few weeks in rehab. It wasn’t just because she was detoxing that she kept to her room. It was a genuine distrust of everyone, a lack of socialization that made her stay away. My staring in our first encounter, and then my striking up the conversation outside our counsellor’s offices was the only reason she’d spoken to me. It was because I was the initiator in our relationship that Cecelia allowed herself to form an attachment, a
connection and friendly relationship with me.
Vinnie Santos didn’t seem to realize this. Or he didn’t care. Either way, he was informed Cecelia sent no correspondence, be it snail mail or email. If she used a computer, it was only for school work and nothing else.
It really had been over six months since her last hit. Celia’s supplier had jumped ship when she stopped visiting the stream. He needed a real customer, she wasn’t one anymore. And since I spent nearly every waking moment I was allowed with her, I knew for a fact she was completely clean. Of both drugs and wrong-doing in her father’s vandalized house.
It didn’t matter though. He believed the absolute worst in her.
In the end, her father was informed he was not permitted back at Trinity Heights if he didn’t get his own act together. Not that anyone expected him to come back, but the threat had to be made.
“Do you think he’d take you out of here?” I’d asked because if he believed she was doing something wrong from inside rehab, there was no telling what the man could be thinking.
“No. I asked Stacey if that was a possibility.” Tears had built in Cecelia’s eyes though she hadn’t tried to stop them. “Apparently, just before he stepped out of the conference room, before he said…before he said what he said, he told them he wanted nothing to do with me. He said if he wasn’t legally required to deal with me, he’d walk away but that he was an upstanding citizen and he followed the law. But once I’m eighteen, I’m on my own.”
Cecelia hasn’t seen or heard from her father since that day. In a way everyone, the counsellor’s, the other staff, some people who know bits of her story and saw the spectacle, we’re all happy about that. But we’re also all so very heartbroken for her. She’s been watched closely by not only me, but nearly everyone who works at Trinity. What would her father’s outburst and actions do to her recovery? Would she slip or would she maintain her path?
The Bitter (Addiction #1) Page 6