Forever Love

by Chelsea Landon

  I moan again. “No…” I manage to get out.

  I’m not okay, but I know this feeling and eventually I’ll pass out and this pain will subside.

  I pray for the dark.

  October 18, 2013

  I’m feeling better the next day. Landon said I gave him a scare the other night. I don’t remember much of it.

  Cash is in my room that morning, I’d only left Landon’s dorm not more than twenty minutes ago but I couldn’t not answer a text from Cash. Every day I wake up and I think to myself, you’re a fucking train wreck. But every morning, I get up because there’s something to look forward to. It’s a text message.

  It’s the only reason I get up.

  The only reason.

  I know Cash knows that I get high. He doesn’t know the extent of this though. He has no idea how bad it’s gotten. How desperate I am. I’m sure even after the other night, Landon’s never indulged that information to Cash either. It’s not his place and the last thing Landon will do these days is overstep a boundary with Cash.

  “What the fuck is this?” He’s standing at my nightstand, his pants unbuttoned, shirt on the floor.

  My eyes shoot to the bag in his hands, my heart in my throat. Cash has known for years that I do drugs. But as far as he’s concerned. It’s weed. Dime bag shit. Certainly not the 8-ball he’s holding in his hand now.

  “It’s nothing.” I try to blow it off and remove my shirt leaving me completely naked in front of him. Distracting him.

  “No,” Cash shakes his head and throws the bag at me. “It’s something. It’s fucking cocaine, Madison! What the fuck are you doing with that shit?”

  I grab the baggie and toss it inside my night stand slamming the drawer shut. “I don’t use it very often.” I say this as if it makes a difference to him. Which it doesn’t. He grabs it from the drawer again, walks the ten steps to the bathroom and I hear the toilet flush and then the door slam.

  Cash sighs standing before me again. “Where’d you get it from?”

  My heart pounds rapidly knowing that was all I had left.

  “Why does it fucking matter?” My voice is annoyed, because I am. He has no right to be questioning me on this or flushing that shit down the toilet. “Why do you care?”

  “Why do I care?” His voice stings my face when he kneels in front of me. “Are you serious? IT’S COCAINE! Are you trying to kill yourself?” He roars practically spitting in my face.

  I flinch back at his tone.

  “Maybe I am.” He starts to interrupt me again but I cut him off and stand myself leaving him kneeling on the floor at my feet. He stands and follows me. He’s not letting this go that easily.

  “I’m not going to let you kill yourself. You need to stay away from Jay Lucas!” He says through gritted teeth looking over my body, his shaking with anger and annoyance. I’m still naked and he can’t help himself no matter how mad he is at me. When Cash gets angry, or emotional about something, it’s hard to focus on anything but that. I can’t help myself either.

  “Cash…” I shake my head. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Is that so?” He picks up my arm where the bruise is and glares at me. For a moment, he’s quiet and it sends my heart racing. “Sure looks like you can fucking take care of yourself.” He lets go and I feel my heart in the pit of my stomach, burning like the acid it’s become. “Stay away from him. It’s one thing to smoke pot. It’s something else entirely to be fuckin’ around with coke.”

  “You gave me bruises.” I shouldn’t say it but I do.

  “Never in anger.” His eyes watch me, jaw set and rigid, but he backs up to the door reaching for his hoodie on the floor. But he doesn’t leave.

  He can’t.

  I see the muscles in his back flex, his fists clutched. He turns, his gaze on the ground. He groans and stalks over to me.

  “I’m not going to let him hurt you.” He whispers covering my body with his. His clothes are discarded quickly.

  “You don’t know how much trouble he is.” I tell him wrapping my arms around him. I feel what I crave give slightly like maybe this might give me the rush I need.

  It could.

  It might.

  His mouth presses to mine, hard and relentless. “I don’t fucking care.” He pushes forward giving me what I know will be the salve on my wounds.

  I gasp at the feeling of him entering me.

  This.

  This is what I need.

  Cash turns his head, his mouth at my ear, his breath so hot it’s scorching my skin. “You want me to tell you a secret?”

  No. Don’t say anything.

  I nod.

  I don’t want to know.

  He groans slamming himself into me, his hand raises to press against my throat. “You’ve broken me.”

  He’s right. I’ve broken everything.

  He doesn’t leave right away this time. Instead he stares at the ceiling. Sometimes I think he wants to stay. Like maybe staying might make the pain go away.

  Only it doesn’t. It doesn’t feel right, or good. It only makes it worse.

  I know what this is doing to me. Not Cash, the drugs. It’s killing me and it’s killing him because of it. At first it was good. I could cope with anything. I didn’t have the nightmares and I could finally pass a class without even trying. You make something appealing enough and people forget that it can destroy your life. For a while I only saw the appeal. Then I started to realize what it was doing to me.

  I noticed the weight loss.

  The nose bleeds.

  The sore throats.

  All of it.

  Cash stirs beside me, he doesn’t look at me but his knuckles brush over my cheek. He pauses, like he’s trying to get his thoughts together. He’s either going to ask me something, or give me words of advice he thinks I need.

  Don’t ask me if I love you.

  Don’t ask me that.

  Please.

  I love that feeling of his hands touching my face and the intimacy it gives. He leans in and it hurts to feel his heat. It burns my skin. “You choose happiness, Mad. No one can choose it for you.”

  I watch him leave this time, my heart pounding furiously against my ribcage. Normally I can’t bear to see him leave but this time I torture myself with seeing him disappear.

  I get in the shower after he leaves, letting the warm water wash over my skin. I feel my ribs and the bones in my hip protrude. It’s gross but food doesn’t hold any appeal to me. I’m lucky if I can get in one meal a day. As I stand there under the spray, my dark hair a heavy curtain over my left shoulder, I wonder what classes I have today.

  Sometimes I feel like time passes me by so quickly I have no idea what day it is.

  Where am I is another story but at least during the day, I have an idea.

  I’m here in body, but mind, it constantly feels like it’s slipping more and more.

  “What’s the name of this class again?” Landon asks nudging my shoulder. “I’ve been looking for my book for a like a week.”

  I pointed to the board where the name was written in white on the black chalk board.

  Landon laughs. “Oh… right.”

  I laugh too when I look down because I’m no better. Landon looks at my text book for my photography class. “Clearly you didn’t remember either.”

  “At least I brought a book. I can pretend I know what I’m doing.” I turn in my chair so he can’t see my book. “You’re gonna look like you forgot.”

  He looks at me, studying my eyes and the way they look. He sees the dark circles and the weight loss. He sees the way I only ever wear hoodies or long sleeve shirts and jeans to hide how much my body isn’t my own any longer.

  The problem is he’s scared of what it’s turning into.

  “Are you okay?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.”

  He shifts in his chair and leans toward me, our shoulders touching as he slouches. “What did you take?”
/>   “I don’t remember.”

  I don’t. He knows I’m not lying.

  There are girls in front of us who are giggling and they have the laughter that makes me scream inside. High pitched and rich. Like they go to fucking school to sound like that.

  “Who is that?” I ask Landon pointing to the one who keeps saying Cash, loud enough for me to hear. I know who it is but today, I’m not sure. She looks different from the last time I saw her. Darker hair maybe.

  We may not make public appearances but it’s known around this school that we fuck. Most girls know that he’s taken though he doesn’t clarify what this is that we have.

  Landon looks confused for a half a second, like he can’t remember and then says, “Amber?”

  He’s not positive either.

  I’m not quiet when I speak, but I’m not exactly loud. “If she doesn’t shut the fuck up about fucking Cash, when I know she’s not. I’m going to rip out her hair.” When I say that, I realize the change. She dyed her hair darker. It’s almost as dark as mine.

  Figures.

  “Go ahead.” Landon says, seeming bored. “It’s fake.”

  Amber turns around, her red flush could have been endearing if she wasn’t so fucking fake. “I can hear you, Madison.”

  I’m surprised she knows my name.

  “Well, good.” I lean forward over the table so that she can hear me a little better. “I wanted you to.”

  “Why are you such a bitch? You’re just jealous that Cash talks to me, and not you.”

  “Are you jealous that he fucks me, and not you?”

  “No. I’m surprised he does.” She turns. “Do you even remember it? Or are you completely brain dead now? What is it that you do these days… fuck a drug dealer for blow?”

  “Fuck you.”

  When I sit back in my seat, I sneak a glance at Landon who’s shaking his head. He waits until I’m breathing evenly before he says, “I’m utterly amazed that you’ve never been arrested.”

  “Me too.” It gets me thinking and I know the answer, but I can’t help myself when I ask, “Has he slept with her?”

  “Cash?”

  “Yes.”

  Landon shrugs stealing my notes from last class and then realizes they’re not even notes but doodles and holes where I’ve stabbed my notebook. “No.”

  “Would you tell me?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen him with her, I know they’ve kissed, but I don’t know if they’ve fucked. My guess is no.”

  The entire rest of class I make blow job references and use my pen like a dick to make Amber uncomfortable. I do it to the point I actually choke on the damn thing.

  Landon only looks the other way for so long before he shifts in his seat leaning away from me. “Will you stop it?”

  “Why?” I don’t stop and lean forward. “Hey, Amber, want some technique advice?”

  She doesn’t answer. Fucking loser probably does the one-handed, lick the tip blow job.

  “Get your pen out of your mouth.” Landon glares at me. “It’s distracting me.”

  I jam the pen down my throat on accident and gag.

  “Stop it. It’s like watching live porn.” He kicks my leg. “Knock it off.”

  I don’t, because then it becomes my only personal game that he’s so annoyed with me.

  I only stop when he reaches over, takes the pen and tosses it across the room.

  “You’re an idiot.” I tell him when the professor starts rushing out orders for our next assignment before the one hour class is up.

  Class gets out right then so the students standing allow for our little stunt to go unnoticed.

  We’re about to leave class when Landon pats his pocket. “Meet me at my truck?”

  “Yeah.” I nod and head to the cafeteria for some coffee.

  Twenty minutes later we’re in his truck doing what we do best. Forgetting life by way of the smoke drifting between us and laughing at Amber getting all flustered over my pen scene in class. I see Saylor cross the parking lot with three other players and I look over at Landon.

  “What are you going to do? Don’t they test you for drugs?”

  “They won’t.” He shakes his head believing himself. “I’m good.”

  “And if they do?”

  “Fuck them.”

  “Uh huh. You won’t be saying that when you’re sober.”

  “Probably not.” He looks over at me. “There’s a lot I don’t say when I’m sober. And I think you and I know that the intoxicated times far outweigh the sober so it’ll be awhile before I realize it.”

  October 19, 2013

  There’s something about the crowd here at Autzen Stadium. They’re loud to the point you can’t even hear at times. It makes it hard to call plays on the line but the fact that these fans showed up here is all that matters me. We opened that game against the Washington Cougars when I found an opening straight through to the end zone and ran the ball for a 57-yard touchdown. That seemed to kick things off for us right away and left the team eager for more.

  All game long number forty-eight on the defense kept cheap shotting Landon and I was sick of it. After the touchdown we scored right before the half, I went over to him and laid my helmet into his. “Next time you do that,” I fist his jersey in my hands, “I’ll lay your ass out myself, asshole.”

  He shoves me back, Saylor’s there as well as Landon to catch me as we head into the locker room. I’m called on taunting and a penalty but it doesn’t matter. It was worth it. Nothing gets me more fired up than guys never getting called on penalties when it was clear he has clothes lined Landon more than once after the play.

  Inside the locker room, coach is going over the first half when Landon looks up at me and nods. It’s his thank you.

  I do the same.

  For once.

  Though I had two turnovers, two fumbles, and I remember those, we stomped the Cougars that night. It left all of us on an adrenaline high that wasn’t stopping tonight. I was at one party, drank probably four beers and was looking for a better one when I saw Macy outside the frat house, looking pissed.

  “You okay?” I bump her shoulder.

  “I’m going to kill Landon.” She cries against my chest. “I hate him so much sometimes.”

  I don’t know what to say to her. I’m not good with this shit but I help her have fun tonight and make her forget about him for a while.

  “I know of a party!” I say wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

  “Thank God.”

  We’re sitting beside each other at another party three houses down, I’m telling Macy about finding cocaine in Madison’s night stand, drink in hand when Macy looks over at me, her face sincere and curious. “Do you ever think about us together?”

  I look at her funny surprised by her question. “What?”

  “Me and you?”

  I choke on my beer, completely caught off guard by that question. “No.” I answer honestly. “Never.” It’s never crossed my mind like that. She’s always been Landon’s girl. And though he’s made moves on mine, and probably hundreds of others, that’s not me. I don’t do shit like that.

  “Oh.” She nods and I can see the tension roll over her.

  “Well, fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, Macy but it’s the whole ‘bros before ho’s’ thing.” I wrap my arm around her. “I just meant that you’re like my sister in so many ways that it would be weird to think of you as anything else.”

  “Got it.” She says barely able to speak the words.

  I want to fucking punch myself for saying anything.

  “Are you mad?”

  “No.” She shakes her head and I know she’s lying.

  “I do find you attractive.”

  “Well, you should.” Her tone’s mocking as the beer she’s drinking drifts to her lips. “You’re dating my twin sister.” She takes a drink and then continues peeling off the paper label on the outside of the dark bottle.

  “Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ours
elves here.” There’s amusement in my voice and I’m hoping it relaxes her. “I fuck her at three in the morning… occasionally. Don’t go putting a fancy title like dating on it.”

  Macy starts laughing to the point where she’s snorting. But then she looks sad. I should probably clear some things up.

  “You know I find you attractive and you’re an amazing girl… but I’m hopeless.”

  “Me too.”

  I raise my beer. “To hopeless hos.”

  “You’re so weird.” But then her smile grows as she raises her own beer. “To the broken bitches!”

  When I’m around Macy, we don’t think, we just laugh. She’s funny to me with a laid back easiness and always popping off with random shit. We people watch too and try to make up what we think couples are talking about.

  She points to a guy flirting with who I think is a cheerleader but I’m not positive. I certainly don’t know all of them. “I bet he’s thinking about how far that fist will fit up that bitch’s ass.”

  I choke on my drink for the second time tonight.

  When I look closer at the guy, I can’t help but laugh. He literally has the skinniest fingers I’ve ever seen. “Look at that guy’s fingers! They’re like green beans.”

  Macy starts laughing so hard her entire body is shaking. “You can’t trust a man like that.”

  “Oh, hell no,” I nod. “You can’t.”

  We’re still at the same party, only now we’re in the kitchen after doing shots with Saylor and Austin, another football player. We’re all laughing and having a good time when Macy looks down at her phone noticing a text from Landon. I know she’s thinking of ditching me to run to Landon to see what he needs, if anything.

  “There’s always a choice, Macy.”

  “Sometimes there’s not, Cash.” She’s trying to spin this on me, her eyes accusing.

  We move back into the living room where it’s less crowded. “Yes, there is. You can choose to make a choice. You can choose to be who you are, or someone different. That’s on you. Don’t say it’s not because you know I’m right.”

  Macy rolls her eyes, she looks concerned and I want to laugh at her when she tries really hard to look rigid and mean. “You need to take your own advice there, buddy.” She cracks and then smiles. “Would it be totally inappropriate if I sent him a text that says I miss his penis?”