Forever Love

  I stare at his headstone and the words written over its smooth surface.

  Steven Daniel Griffin

  October 10, 1992 – December 5, 2010

  Your memory will always live on within the souls you touched.

  I’ve never been here and not cried. Today’s no different. I sit down in front of the grave and stare at it. Madison and Landon think I’ve never grieved Steven’s death… that I moved on too easily. That’s not it at all. I grieved. I did maybe even more than they did but I’m doing right by my buddy and living for what he would want. If you let it, grief controls you and infects your blood just like depression does. It makes you weak. Takes your beat.

  Drawing in a deep breath I look up at the gray sky that feels so bright I squint and squeeze my eyes shut. It still hurts from where I was punched. The ground’s cold and hard, the dirt beneath my feet crumbling as I raise my knees to my chest, the football in my hand hanging over my left leg. I look at it and the signatures of all the Oregon Ducks players stares me in the face. After the Civil War game we all signed it and then coach gave it to me and said that I should find a good place for it. He was right. I did.

  I sit there and the words flow as easy as a smile would around him. “I’m really sorry I’ve let things go. I feel like I’ve failed you and haven’t…” I draw in a shaky breath. “I should have been there for Lex. I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have let her get so far gone that she tried to kill herself. I know you would have never let Madison get that way. You would have been there for her no matter what.” My chest constricts as I try to speak the next part. “Honestly, I’m angry. I say that I’m not but I am. I’m so fucking angry at everyone. I feel guilty for being angry. I thought I was okay but then I see Madison and Landon and it makes me fucking livid. Everything’s went to shit. Madison is fucking all strung out on drugs, Landon’s right along with her and I know they blame themselves but it doesn’t help matters. And Alexa… I just don’t even know what to say.”

  I’m crying by the time I’ve said what I’ve said and it takes me a moment but I know I need to say something else.

  “I sure miss you, buddy. So fucking much.” I clutch the football in my hand and raise up on my knees and then kiss it before setting it next to his headstone. I sit there for another moment wishing I could remember what his voice sounded like or see his face. It’s sad that time steals those important memories away from you. I see pictures of him every now and then but they all seem so distant to me. Like his memory is fading and I hate that. I fucking hate it.

  As I’m leaving, I give the gravesite one last look before walking away. A gust of wind hits me then and I smile.

  Back at ya, man…back at ya.

  I wander around town, no specific destination in mind but I end up at the high school football field next. I’ve been here a handful of times too. I’m there maybe ten minutes when Landon shows up.

  I’m not ready for his shit. It’s been a long week and I swear I haven’t slept since that fight Madison and I had. I’m physically and mentally exhausted. The last thing I need is another fight.

  I’m sitting in the bleachers looking out over the field when he sits down behind me a few rows up. If he knows what’s good for him he’ll keep his fucking mouth shut.

  He doesn’t.

  “I’m sorry” are the first words out of his mouth.

  I say nothing. He shakes his head at my silence. It frustrates him about as much as it frustrates me that he’s fucking talking.

  I also know it helps him. He needs to say these things to me.

  After a while, I do say something. What I’ve been dying to ask him since prom.

  “I want you to tell me why? Why did you fuck my girl when you had your own?”

  “I didn’t fuck her.”

  I don’t believe him. I want to but something tells me not to.

  “Did you want to?” I turn and raise an eyebrow at him, letting him know that lying to me right now isn’t wise. “Don’t bullshit me either. Tell me the fucking truth.”

  He sighs. “Honestly… at that moment, yes. I did.”

  I consider that, he told the truth at least. I have to know what happened though. “What else did you do with her?”

  “We made out freshman year while we were studying. We were sober and wanted to see if there were any feelings there. There weren’t.” He watches my reaction, I have nothing to give him. My heart starts pounding as I imagine them making out. It makes me sick as I clench the beer in my hand.

  Then he asks, “Did you sleep with Macy?”

  He’s always thought this. Always. It’s like he’s got it in his mind I would do the same to him when that’s not accurate at all. “No. I never touched Macy like that. Never even thought about it.”

  “So you didn’t do anything?”

  He thinks I’m lying to him and it’s entertaining in a sense. “I bit her fucking neck once trying to prove to her that there was nothing between us.”

  I say nothing more and turn back to the field. Fuck him for thinking that. Fuck him for treating Macy like shit for so long and turning to my girl.

  What gets me is that he called Madison a whore when he and Macy were arguing. He’s no better. What gives him the right?

  “You had no right to call Madison a whore.”

  He doesn’t hesitate to apologize. “You’re right. I’m sorry for that too.”

  We’re silent for a long moment, both of us staring at the field we used to dominate together when I ask, “Why couldn’t you see that it wasn’t just you hurting?”

  “I’m sorry that I don’t want to feel. Forgive me for being selfish.” Landon says with a bitter edge. “What I can’t understand is that people can’t see that I’m not doing this for them. I don’t do it to feel this way. I do it to not feel.”

  For a moment, when I finally look at Landon and see, I see what it’s done to him.

  To her.

  To me.

  To Macy.

  To Alexa.

  That night leveled any chance at being normal again.

  “It’s never gonna be the same man.” Landon says bringing the beer to his lips.

  “I know.”

  Raising an eyebrow, he looks over at me. “Do you?”

  My frustration gets to me. He’s so fucking blind to shit but yet he acts like I am. “You have so much goddamn God-given talent but you waste it! You fucking waste it because you’re depressed. Yeah, I get it, I was there too. But the eighty percent you play at is better than most who give one hundred percent. If you put forth the effort you do into forgetting, you could go pro and probably be a number one draft pick.”

  He nods, he knows just how true that statement is.

  “Earn it. Being like this is a slap in the fucking face to him. He died. You lived. What good did it do that you were saved and you’re living like this? What do you think he’d say about that?”

  Most of the time no one is more grateful to be alive than someone who thought they were going to die and then they live. They get that second chance. But Landon doesn’t see it that way. I’m not sure he ever will. Neither does Madison.

  “What would you do if it was you?”

  Heavy question.

  I’m not sure how to answer it. What if it was me who was acting crazy that night?

  It’s a damn good question if you ask me.

  If you ask me.

  And if you do, I’d normally say I have no answer because I don’t. I wouldn’t have been doing what he was. I don’t act that way.

  “I would do what I do now. Live my life because dwelling on it doesn’t rewrite history. It happened. We can’t take it back.”

  Landon thinks about that for a half a second and then stares at me. “Why do you hold on to the past with Madison then?”

  Hmmm. Heavier.

  His choice of words make me grimace because of her.

  Why am I with her?

  “I have no idea.” I say to him. “I guess I do because I want to.�
�� I look out to the field. “There are parts of our lives we can’t change, Landon. I know that seems like I’m being hypocritical, but second chances don’t happen often. I’m still holding out for my second chance with her. Hell, I still want to finish my first chance. We were robbed of that opportunity, it was stolen from us.”

  “But you’re not together.”

  It’s not a question. But I answer. “I know. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting that chance at forever with her again.”

  He stands from his place and nods to the field. He’s not going to say anything. He doesn’t need to. I stare at the field. When you look at this place, it’s like time has left it alone. It’s what makes this place feel like home to me.

  I don’t blame Landon for anything that happened that night. It could have happened to anyone. I blame him for dying inside himself. That he has control over.

  I don’t know where we’ll go from here. I honestly don’t.

  December 7, 2013

  I have more than one bad habit and more paralyzing fears than most realize. There’s the glaringly obvious habit you notice when you look at me. Coked out and addicted. They see that I’m suffering. They suspect addiction but what they don’t see is what drives me to that high.

  They don’t see the one who controls me far more than anything I use to numb the pain.

  3:13 AM.

  There’s the addiction I can’t shake.

  I think of him and stand from the floor, my legs and arms struggling to support me. Turning on the water, I stare at it coming from the faucet and then slowly look up.

  I don’t even recognize the girl in the mirror, dark tired eyes stare back at me. I’ve spent the entire night on the bathroom floor vomiting, shaking, and willing myself to sleep. I want a drink, or more.

  I don’t sleep. I can’t. I stay up all night and stare at the wall in the bathroom. If I do sleep, the nightmares I have keep me awake the rest of the night. I don’t even know what they’re about, just that they’re so terrifying that my mind won’t stop. I wake up drenched in sweat and confused, afraid to open my eyes and see that those nightmares might be real.

  It’s been three days since my last high.

  Three days.

  Though I’ve gone weeks before, even months, this time is different. It’s different because I went from using a gram a week to nothing. The crash is unbelievable.

  I’ve tried to quit more times than I can count. Maybe every day. I once went three months.

  One morning I succumbed and went back to it at 6:18 AM when I didn’t get a text message.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I’m not sure I can do this.

  And if I think this is the worst of the withdrawals, I’m wrong. The times I’ve tried to quit, I know it’s weeks after you stop that’s the worst. That’s when most relapse. I’ve never admitted to anyone all the drugs I’ve done. Not even to myself.

  To think I put myself through this, a little bump for a thirty-minute high that leaves me feeling like shit.

  I check my phone. I’m tempted. Jay would give me what I need, if I asked.

  Don’t call.

  I’m too tired to call. So I drop the phone on my bed and raise my shaking hand to my flushed cheeks and stare at myself in the mirror again.

  “What happened to you?” I ask myself.

  It’s obvious what happened. But to my friends and my parents, it’s not as easy. When my mom and dad saw me last night, the first time they’ve laid eyes on me in a couple of months, they gasped.

  I see the worry on everyone’s faces.

  Mostly Cash because he’s been witness to this the entire time.

  When I can get up from the floor, I walk the mile it takes to get to Jackie’s house. The cold feels good and though my body is so weak, the fresh air helps.

  This is a conversation I’ve been avoiding for a while and Jackie sees that right away. She’s gentle when she speaks, like she knows how to give talks like this.

  “I’m sorry.” She says to me.

  I don’t understand what she means by that. What in the world would she have to be sorry about?

  I glance into the living room where Alexa is with Macy. I should be sorry about them. What I’ve done to both of them.

  “Don’t be sorry for me. Don’t ever say that. Feel sorry for you having to bury your baby. Feel sorry for Adam, Josh, and Connor. They lost their little brother. Feel sorry for John. He lost a son. Feel sorry for Alexa. She never got her forever. Because of me, and Landon, they all lost something so great nothing will ever compare to that.”

  “What about you?” Jackie asks. “You lost something too. You lost a friend. A good friend who loved you.”

  I’ve never really looked at it that way.

  “Have you talked to Cash lately?”

  “No.” It hurts to hear his name and immediately sends my heart into rapid beats. “We got in a huge fight and haven’t talked since.”

  “Sweetie, you see things in black and white. Cash doesn’t.” And now I see where she’s going with this. “He sees everything in color. You need that in your life. You need the color he gives you and he needs the shadows that you provide for reprieve in the life he has… in those colors. It’s blinding for him at times.”

  I take in a deep breath staring at the tea in my hands, cupping the warm ceramic cup. Bringing it to my lips, I take a sip from the steaming mint tea.

  “I don’t know if he’ll even talk to me.”

  Jackie smiles. “You’ll never know until you try.”

  She’s right. I won’t.

  And then she looks at me and I know what’s coming next.

  Me.

  She sees what I am right now. The flushed cheeks, the bony appearance, the dark circles under my eyes and the fact that I haven’t stopped shaking since I got here.

  “How bad is it?”

  I swallow, afraid to admit it and knowing I need to. “Bad.”

  “Are you okay or do you need help?”

  I asked Alexa this question and now I understand why it seemed so stupid to ask. Is anyone ever okay?

  I don’t think they are. Deep down something in everyone’s life bothers them to the point they want to change it.

  “No… but it’s better being here than at school.”

  Jackie reaches forward and retrieves my trembling hands from around my cup. “I can’t lose you kids. I can’t.” Her chin shakes. “I lost my baby boy. I don’t want to see you kids intentionally trying to kill yourself over this because what would that say to him? To me? To his family?”

  She makes a point and one that’s hard to accept.

  I’m willingly doing this to myself.

  Steven died in an accident and I’m willingly giving up.

  “You need to get help before you unintentionally do what Alexa tried to do. Then what?”

  She’s right. Then what?

  I consider her words and I’ve known this for years. Only now it’s starting to hold a different meaning because if I don’t, I’ll lose what I have right in front of me, if I haven’t lost it already.

  Cash.

  It takes me hours of fighting with myself before I decide it’s time to try.

  It’s not hard to find Cash. I know where he’s at so I walk the mile from Jackie’s house to Canby High School’s football field later that night. Sure enough, he’s there in the bleachers. Drinking. I’ve never seen him drink this much, but lately, every time I see him he has a beer in his hand.

  I can’t say I blame him.

  “What are you doing here?” His eyes don’t lift to mine.

  It’s not a question he’s looking for an answer from. He says it trying to get me to leave. He thinks this cocky attitude will deter my mission.

  “I came to check on you.” I’m hesitant, my hands trembling as I force myself not to vomit right there. It’s hard to judge how he’s going to react to me after our last encounter.

  He laughs lightly, taking his hat off to run his fingers through his hair.
“That’s not true.”

  “Don’t be indifferent to this.” I say moving closer to him because every second that I’m standing near him, my knees threaten to give out. I’m sweating though it’s freezing, burning alive. “Don’t. Not tonight.”

  He groans when I sit, like that’s the last thing he wants me to do. Then he flips the question around in my mind.

  He’s shocked. Replacing his hat, he looks at me. “Me, indifferent? All I’ve done in this is feel too much. And it fucking sucks, Madison. It sucks.”

  He has a point. And it’s a good one. If anything, Cash was always indifferent. He ignored the best he could.

  “I miss you.” I say mumbling into the night.

  His shoulders flinch at my words but he catches himself from being exposed. “Do you miss me, or my dick?” He laughs, some humor, some annoyance but there’s also a bored frustration to his tone. “Dealer not that great in bed?”

  I guess he has a right to be this way. I actually expect it.

  “You’re drunk and you’re angry.” I pick at the frayed ends of my sweatshirt, feeling like my nerves are just the same. “I get that.”

  “You don’t get shit.” He snaps, shifting his eyes to mine, briefly, and then back towards the field. “Don’t try to understand how I feel.”

  I know he needs to calm down so I sit there. I’m giving him this. Me staying and waiting, hoping that he’ll talk to me. He’s accused me of always leaving so this is me, staying.

  After twenty minutes, about the time the snow starts to fall and I’m shivering so bad, he asks, “Did you fuck Jay that night?”

  I know what night he’s referring to. The night he fucked Bethany on the couch and I had to watch. “Yes” I swallow over the lump in my throat.

  “Figures.” He looks back at the field. I watch him, my eyes on lips that used to smile anytime he saw me. Now I’m met with frowns.

  “I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t easy seeing you with Bethany.”

  He laughs, bitter, hiding his eyes from mine. “I can’t say it was easy on me either to see you look at me like that.” He says, with almost a casual arrogance.