In the shower, I pumped myself up mentally. “You can do this, you can do this, you can do this,” I told myself, to the same rhythm as the water running over my body.
I was in pretty decent shape, but I had really wanted to drop a little weight before starting this job. I liked my curves, but five pounds would go a long way toward keeping my belly from muffin-topping. Being 5’ 6” and always having struggled with my weight in the past, I knew if I just worked at it, I could tighten up. But Jared had me so stressed out and I had eaten so much ice cream in front of the TV.
I got out of the shower and looked at myself in the mirror. I squinted at myself, deciding I still looked pretty damn sexy, extra weight or not.
“You can do this,” I said. “You have what it takes. You can do this.”
By this point, I was no longer sure I was talking about my first day of work. I had a gnawing feeling I was talking about dealing with the glaring problem that was my relationship.
Our bathroom was an outdated pink and green. It was a horrific color combination conjured up by Sue Ellen’s 60’s or 70’s nostalgia. When I moved in with Jared, we undertook so much work to make it feel less like his grandmother’s and more like our own. We had to tear up carpeting, repaint walls and take down the ugly Safari wallpaper in the basement.
Back then, the house was a project for both Jared and me together. That’s what had made it special. But over time, our enthusiasm for house renovation projects had faded, along with the zeal of our relationship, and we had never made it so far as to update this bathroom.
I dried off, put on makeup and got dressed. I was starting to perk up. I felt I looked a little like Rebel Wilson, but with auburn hair and a prettier face. I sometimes wished I was her. She never seemed self-conscious at all. But with her as my spirit animal, I prepped my coffee mug.
“Yeah, you can do this,” I said, starting to convince myself. “A new job is going to change everything.”
Then, as I heard Jared clanging around in the garage again, it dawned on me that I really had to face this. I needed to confront him before my big day. Who knows? Maybe he’d have it together and see me off. Maybe he’d be the old Jared; full of life, hope and ambition.
The moment I walked in the garage, I instantly regretted my decision. Jared looked like a cornered rat. He was on the floor of the garage, scrubbing away at the cement, and the acrid smell of chemicals was in the air.
“Jared,” I said, trying to be in control. “What the hell is this?”
“Nothing, go back to bed.”
Jared had a gaunt Jesus body and face that I had initially been very attracted to, because it hadn’t been that skinny. But he had somehow gotten very thin. The muscle tone was gone from his face, as if he was wasting away. His hair, once his best feature, was stringy and greasy. He was wearing his old denim jacket from middle school. The thing was full of holes, but he kept insisting I mend it for him.
“Jared, I can’t go back to bed. I’m starting my new job today,” I said, incredulous.
“So, what? You think you’re better than me?”
“I’m starting the job for us! Working for us!”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know what you’re doing! What are you doing?!”
“Don’t worry about it. Just go back to bed.”
“I’m going to work! Are you even listening?!”
The smell of the chemicals was overwhelming. On a workbench, he had poured some translucent substance in one of my baking sheets. It had turned to crystal and was already cracking. That’s when I remembered something I saw on television. Breaking Bad.
“Oh, my God! Is that meth? Are you making meth?”
“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” he assured. “This is how I make money. Just like you’re doing. It’s nothing bad.”
“I’ve seen Breaking Bad. I know what that is!”
“Relax, baby.”
Relax, baby, my ass, was all I could manage to think. Leave it to someone who was up all night making meth to tell me to relax.
Apparently, before I could leave for my first day of work, it was time to have a showdown with my boyfriend. I sure hoped Rebel was ready to be my spirit animal now more than ever.
Chapter 2 – Mandy
“Are you insane?” I demanded of Jared. “Do you have any idea how illegal that is?”
“I’m cleaning it up,” he insisted. “You see, it’s the smell that gets people. You have to clean up after you cook.”
“Jared, you’re not thinking straight!” I insisted. “If you’re caught, the cops will take the house! They’ll take everything. Your poor grandma will lose everything she’s helped you out with in life.”
“No, the cops won’t find out,” he assured, unconvincingly. “And if they do, Grandma won’t get caught up in anything. I would just—I would just tell them it was me.”
“We have to throw this stuff away,” I said, determined. “You have to get help. For your own sake, and for the good of our relationship. I can’t stay with you anymore, if you’re…doing meth. And making meth.”
I couldn’t even believe we were having this conversation. It seemed I was in a bad dream. Or an episode of Breaking Bad. I had barely even tried pot. This could not be my life.
Except it was. I had to face it. And change it. Because apparently Jared wasn’t planning to. Suddenly, all the lonely nights made a lot more sense. I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Jared must have been deep into drugs for far too long. It had finally just spiraled beyond his control, and gotten so bad I had to notice it, even if I hadn’t really been ready to face it.
When I picked up the baking sheet, Jared immediately rose to his feet. His eyes were riveted on it; like Gollum watching the Precious.
“Oh, my God! You’re a meth addict!”
“No-no-no, baby, I just test the product. I’m not a customer.”
As if to prove he didn’t need it, Jared got back down to scrubbing the floor.
“You see, most dealers know not to try it,” he explained. “But I’m not like most dealers. It doesn’t bother me. And if I stay up a few nights, so what? I get so much done!”
“We are through,” I told him, wondering why the hell it took me so long to get to this point. “We are done!”
Jared just laughed. He stopped scrubbing the floor and got to his feet. He shook his skinny finger in my direction.
“You? You’re gonna find another place? Where? When? I’ve been payin’ the bills! How do you think we still have Internet?”
“Sue Ellen, that’s how,” I spat at him. “And that’s why I was looking for a job. So I could support myself and not have to depend on her, or you. How long have you been doing this? How did I not see?”
“A week or two or six,” he said, dismissing my concerns. “You know how it is.”
“No, I don’t know how it is. You can’t do this, Jared! Do you want to get us put in jail?”
“I don’t normally cook here,” he explained. “I got a place out in the woods, but the cops found it. So, I had to come here. Just this one time. To fill my orders.”
“Fill your orders? You moron! That’s where you’ve been escaping to? The woods, to cook? And the cops have already found you…”
“No, no, no,” he sputtered. “They only found the shack. I didn’t leave nothin’ behind they could tie to me.”
“Oh, you’re just so sure!” I said, as sarcastically as possible.
“Uh huh.”
“While you were high on meth, you’re positive the cops didn’t find any fingerprints or hair fibers or any other evidence because you’re just so careful when you’re high!”
Now I was channeling Rebel Wilson. Not that she would ever be dumb enough to shack up with a guy who cooked meth, and take so long to realize it. But if she would ever find herself in that situation, I’m pretty sure this was how she would react.
I was losing it on Jared. He started to shake a little. He looked so fra
il. I remembered a time when he was thinking of getting a motorcycle. I was worried at first, but then I thought he’d be strong enough to handle a bike, even with me on it. He used to be strong. Strong when he held me.
Now, looking at him, it was like looking at a shadow of his former self. I felt like I could push my hand right through his chest if I had wanted. He had sold the motorcycle, and now I realized it was probably to support his drug habit.
“What has happened to you, Jared? Do you even see yourself?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You used to be a proud person. You used to have dignity. A job!”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit about a job, Mandy. They laid me off, and you know that.”
“Yeah, and what did you do? You just sat around the house drinking down your unemployment checks.”
“Hey! I tried to get my job back,” he yelled. “But they said there were cutbacks. That’s just what rich people do! They screw it to people like us.”
“I have a job, Jared,” I reminded him. “At least, if I hurry up and get there for my first day, I do. After weeks and weeks of searching, I have a job. That’s what it takes now. The job market is tough!”
“You gonna throw that in my face now?”
The light went out in Jared’s eyes. I really felt in that moment he was giving up. He couldn’t take that his girlfriend had a job and not him. When he worked, he had been supportive of me. He had even looked over my resume and helped me improve it.
Now, looking at him, I couldn’t even imagine Jared pulling it together for an interview. He was just a mess. Sitting back on the floor, he started scrubbing again, half-heartedly.
“You used to be supportive of me,” he said bitterly. “You used to help me.”
“I can’t support this, Jared,” I sobbed. “This is the dark path. The Abyss! You need rehab.”
“People don’t get clean in rehab,” he scoffed. “It’s just a scam, Man.”
“Are you even listening to yourself? Do you hear how crazy you sound?”
I couldn’t tell if he was serious or if he actually believed that rehab was a scam. I needed to do an intervention on him, but who could I get to do it? He had systematically alienated all his friends this past year. Even the friends that tried to help him get work had given up. It wasn’t going to work anyway unless Jared wanted to get clean.
“You can’t throw that away,” he insisted. “We need the money!”
“I just got a job!”
“Look, forget that,” he suggested, trying to be nice. “Just stay here. Smoke with me. We can do it together.”
“Oh, my God, no!” I shouted. “Why would you drag me down like that? I thought you loved me.”
“Drag you down? See! You do think you’re better than me.”
Jared look so hurt. So betrayed. Despite my better instincts, I tried one more time to save him.
“Jared, you don’t have to live like this,” I pleaded. “You can get clean. With my job, I can pay the bills. You just need to stop now, okay? Can you do that?”
Jared looked back at me, but his eyes were lost. It was like he couldn’t focus. It was as if he’d forgotten who he was. I knew right then and there that I had lost him. He was a drowning man and I couldn’t let him pull me under the riptide with him.
“Just stay with me. Today?” he begged.
I threw the baking sheet into the trash can, but I knew he’d retrieve it.
“Goodbye, Jared. I really am done for good. I’ll be leaving tonight after work.”
“Ha,” he scoffed. “Yeah, right. Where you gonna go without me? Without my grandma’s house to live in?”
“Look who’s concerned about his poor grandma now,” I spat back at him. “And I’ll figure it out. I’m a lot more self sufficient than you think. And, if you cook here again, I’m calling Sue Ellen and the cops.”
I got into my car. It was a cramped Hyundai Accent from 2002. Jared used to fix it up for me, but it had started running rough a year ago. I was driving on borrowed time, or until I could manage to come up with the money to fix it.
In the car, I cried for a bit. Jared and I were over, even if I had to linger here for a few weeks until I managed to find another place to live. I had been talking tough, out of anger, but I had no idea how I could find somewhere to live tonight. Maybe a motel, if I could afford one.
I had been too blind to see that the situation was so dire, and had failed to make adequate plans. But from now on, I was determined to be more prepared. I would look up motels and apartment complexes on my lunch break, and hopefully figure something out.
I took a few sips from my coffee, let the car warm up and fixed my makeup. This job was all I had now, and I had to make it work for me.
“You can do this, you can do this,” I chanted, with renewed vigor, summoning up more courage than I had had in the shower earlier, before my relationship and my life had fallen apart before my very eyes.
But, let’s face it—they had already been falling apart, and this not so small event had just forced me to accept it. In a way, I was glad it had happened, although I sure wish it would have been any other day but today.
I checked my face in the mirror. Despite my anger and sadness, my eyes glistened with determination from underneath my mascara-clad eyelashes. “Okay, Mandy,” I said to myself. “Let’s get to work.”
I drove down the street to my new job and my new destiny. Rebel would’ve been proud.
Chapter 3 – Carl
It was a great day to golf. I had my Honma Beres E-05 4S in one hand and my long island iced tea in the other. Franklin was taking forever to tee off and Belinda, as always, was on my jock.
Belinda was pretty. Pretty enough that most men would fuck her and, from what I heard, most men in the club had. But she wasn’t for me. No, not enough meat on them bones. She was blonde, of course, and had starved herself so you could see that flat stomach in her golf outfit— along with the edges of her pelvic bone. Great rack, great face, great everything really— just not great for me. She was a friend and that was enough. For me, anyway. But Belinda always seemed to have different plans, and to think she could get me to change my mind.
Franklin was a good golfer. Heavy set, balding but still with a love patch he grew back in the nineties. Initially it was all the hair that had not turned gray, but now it was just as white as the rest of what was on his head. I’m sure he would’ve fucked Belinda with gusto if given half the chance, but she wouldn’t even give him a quarter of a chance. He positioned his ball for the eighth time and it fell of the tee again.
“God dammit!” he muttered. “It’s too fuckin’ windy out here, Carl!”
“Franklin, are you shittin’ me, bro? The way you slice it, you might as well tee off the grass anyway!”
“Oh, fuck you,” Franklin whined.
Belinda laughed. It was that “I think you’re so funny and hot that I want you to take me home” laugh, but I wasn’t having it.
“Carl,” she cooed. “Are you going to take Franklin up on his merger offer?”
“No, B. Why would I?”
“It’s a good offer. Franklin’s a decent guy. He’d treat you right although I’d treat you better.”
“Dunthrup doesn’t need to do a merger,” I explained. “Our numbers are strong. I didn’t build a business with my brother just so I could give half of it away.”
Franklin finally got his ball on the tee. He sliced the shit out of it.
“God damn!” he said, almost throwing away his driver. “This fuckin’ wind!”
Belinda teed up and prepared to smack one down the fairway.
“God, Belinda is hot,” muttered Franklin. “Why don’t you hit that, man?”
“Too easy,” I said. “Besides, I like Belinda. I don’t want to just bang her and then avoid her. Like I do with all the women I sleep with.”
“Damn, man. Wish I had your problem,” said Franklin. “Since my wife left, dating is a nightmare. You know everyone as
sumes when you got some money, the women just throw themselves at you. Not in this country club,” lamented Franklin. “Just means I’m rackin’ up the tab with the escorts.”
“Jesus, watch yourself there, Franklin,” I warned. “Wrap yourself twice.”
“Dude, I’m in my fifties. What’s left for me? I don’t want another relationship. I’d rather have a boat,” joked Franklin. “You though. You don’t want kids?”
“Nah,” I said. “The family life’s not for me. Me and Clayton—we had it rough.”
Belinda smacked the ball. It landed about halfway down the fairway. She was usually a pretty good golfer but sometimes she got all flustered when she was around me.
“Our folks were always fighting, always drinking. It was a mess,” I told Franklin, remembering the bad old days. “Thank God for Clayton though. He’s my rock.”
“Yeah, but no kids? Whose gonna take care of you when you’re old?”
“I guess I’ll hire a pretty little nurse,” I shrugged.
Just to piss off Franklin, I dropped the ball on the tee from about three feet up. It landed, bounced once and stayed there. I laughed to myself. I could see Franklin stewing out of the corner of my eye.
“Windy,” I muttered mischievously.
“Fuck you,” said Franklin. “I hope you slice it in the lake and an alligator bites your dick off!”
“Watch this, I saw it on YouTube,” I instructed.
I had been practicing for weeks this behind the back and then forward hit with the ball. I really didn’t even expect to get halfway down the fairway, but it turned out to be one of the most solid drives I ever had. I almost made it to the green on a par 4.
“You can’t hit like that!” insisted Franklin. “That’s cheating.”
“Mmm, I like your form,” said Belinda seductively. “You can hit that way any time, handsome.”
“That’s not fair, B!” insisted Franklin.
Sold at the Games Page 6