by Claire Adams
"Yeah. The beach is a lot more fun during the day," I said. He smiled and looked out over the water.
A comfortable silence fell between us. I was glad it seemed all he needed was someone to talk to. I still didn't really know what had been eating at him, but at least he was loosening up. I glanced over at him. He seemed a little fidgety, like he wasn't comfortable. We hadn't been sitting that long, but there was a chance he wanted to maybe get off the sand.
"Hey, is everything okay?" I asked him.
"I'm fine," he said.
"Can I get you anything? I can run up to the bar if you want a water or anything like that."
"I'm just a little under the weather. I should be fine in the morning," he said.
Under the weather? Well, that could mean anything. Was there a bug going around? Was he coming down with something? Was it a stomach thing? Like something he had eaten didn't agree with him? I didn't want to try call him on anything, but the days and days of isolation, then him finally coming outside and still not being able to sit and enjoy the luau seemed suspect.
I had a feeling he wasn't telling me the whole truth. Something was bothering him. I thought about mentioning it, but he had finally agreed to come out of his room and do something. It was something. I couldn't knock him for trying. Whatever it was, it was probably bad, but I didn't want to pry.
"You can call the front desk if it gets worse," I said instead. "We can contact a doctor if you're ill."
"Thanks," he said, smiling at me. I smiled back. What was going on with him? All the stuff with his band was public knowledge. His leaving had been big news. It was none of my business, but I'd seen the turnaround he’d had just after the conversation we had just had. If he talked about it, whatever it was, he'd most likely feel better.
"Hey, what's that?" he asked suddenly.
"What?"
"On your neck. What happened?"
I clammed up. I never really thought about my scar. It had faded quite a bit since the actual wound and a lot of the time, people weren't brazen enough to ask questions that personal. When they did ask me, I had a story ready, one that made sense and which threw them off my scent. I just hadn't been expecting Nate to say anything, especially since we had only just had a real conversation.
"Oh, this," I said, rubbing the mark a few inches below my jaw. "Surfing accident. Happened years ago."
"Looks like it must have hurt."
"It looks worse than it was," I said, trying to pass it off. I had told the lie enough times that it came naturally to me. I wasn't proud of that, but I told it out of necessity. Only Makani knew the real reason I had that scar on my neck.
When I tried to tell actual surfers that that was how I had gotten it, they had a lot more questions since they knew the ways you could get hurt surfing. It would have had to be a pretty unique surfing accident if it left me with a scar on my neck that looked suspiciously like one I would have gotten from an edged blade. I was good at deflecting, but I was sure a lot of people didn’t actually believe me.
"Did you get back on your board after that?" he asked.
"If I didn't, how would I have ever become a good enough surfer to make sure I never had another accident again?" I asked, looking over at him. He was leaning back on his arms. I could see his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths and his eyes were shut. Sweat had broken out over his forehead. The muscle in his jaw was working like he was grinding his teeth.
"Nate, are you feeling all right?" I asked, concerned. Something was definitely not right.
"I'm gonna turn in," he said, getting up slowly, like his body hurt. I got to my feet. "Great party, by the way. I mean it. Thanks for inviting me."
He turned and walked away before I could say anything to him. I watched him go because if he had been walking any faster, it would have been a full run. I watched him disappear into the luau before I lost sight of him.
I left the water’s edge, thinking I'd follow him, but realized I was still on the clock. I scanned the luau for Makani, spotting her chatting with a guest. I walked up to them and waited while she finished up.
"Where were you?" she asked.
"I was just down by the water. Nate was sitting there, and I went to talk to him."
"He was on the beach?"
"Yes, and now he's left. I think he might be sick."
"Whoa. Start again. Slow down," she said slowly, giving me a chance to say what I meant clearly instead of raving.
" He seemed all right when he arrived at the luau, but then I saw him go down to the edge of the water and just sit there on his own. I felt guilty that he might not be having a good time, so I went over there. We talked for a few minutes, but then he started acting weird."
"Weird how?"
"Fidgety. He started sweating and sounded out of breath. I think he might be ill or something. When I asked him, he said he was fine and just left, practically running away from me."
“I wouldn’t be that worried. If he came in the first place, then I wouldn’t say he’s that bad. Maybe he just wanted to lie down.”
“Who just wanted to lie down?” Joseph’s sharp voice asked cutting into our conversation. Makani looked at me to tell him.
“Nate. Mr. Stone. The guy in the Hulopoe suite,” I explained. “He left the luau saying he felt a little ill.”
“Where is he now?” he asked.
“He went back to his suite,” I said, glad he was stepping in.
“Go check on him. Make sure he’s okay.” What? Go check on him? That would have been what I had done as Abby the person, not Abby the employee. Wasn’t that a little weird? Nate was an important guest, but this sounded a little like an invasion of privacy.
“Okay, I can do that,” I said, keeping my concerns to myself, figuring he knew what he was doing.
“Take some meds up to him. He might need something,” Joseph instructed. Nurse Abby, reporting for duty. I told Makani I’d be back and went back to the main building. Wouldn't it be better to call a doctor? I thought.
Maybe it wasn't anything serious. I'd go and check on him first so we didn't end up calling one for nothing. What did I need? I went into the staff changing room and hunted for the first aid kit. There wasn't much to choose from in there. Antacids, antihistamines, painkillers, Pepto, and cough medicine. I frowned. I'd just carry the whole thing.
I got nervous going up to his suite. It was probably nothing. He had made it all the way up himself. Maybe it was food poisoning or something. I got to the door and took a deep breath. I raised my arm to knock, but noticed it wasn't closed. It was ajar like he'd walked in without realizing he'd left it open.
Go inside, I thought. No. I couldn't do that. That was so unprofessional. This wasn't a supermarket, I couldn’t just walk in. I knocked the door gently so it didn't swing open. I waited before trying again, a little harder. Still nothing. Was he asleep? Was he even in there? Okay. I had knocked, so I wasn't just barging into a guest's room uninvited. I pushed to door open slowly.
"Hello? Nate?" I called. He wasn't in the living area. I checked the bathroom before finally deciding to check the bedroom. The door was wide open, so I walked in. The sliding double door to the terrace was wide open. I thought about going to close it before the sight of Nate stopped me cold. I dropped the first aid kit, causing it to pop open and everything to spill over the floor.
My hand went over my mouth, and my mind went blank. Nate was on the couch near his bed. He slumped over one side like he was asleep. The hoodie he had been wearing was on the floor. One of his arms was tucked under him and the other was hanging loosely off the side of the couch. The skin of his arm was pockmarked red with inflamed scars and stuck in his arm, precariously hanging, was a syringe.
Oh, my God. Nate. I walked over to him, petrified that he wasn't sleeping and something worse had happened. I was shaking as I stood over him. I watched his body, finally seeing the slight rise and fall of his chest, breathing in and out. I didn't know what I was looking at. All I knew was th
at I wanted to get out of there. I rushed back to the floor, haphazardly reassembling the first aid kit.
What had I just seen? I tried to forget the worst part of the image. I thought I knew so much about him. I knew he liked to drink and that he was a troublemaker, but this?
I let myself out and closed his door for him. Nobody else needed to see that.
Chapter Nine
Nate
I was awake a little while before I got up. I opened my eyes and squinted because of how bright it was. I raised my head and looked around. I'd fallen asleep on the couch. I didn't have a headache, which was good – I wasn't hung-over. I didn't feel dope sick, either. I sat up, hearing something falling on the floor.
It was a needle. Right. I'd bailed on Abby's luau to come here and shoot up. I picked the needle up and checked my arm. No pain, no swelling. I hadn't botched it. I tossed it in the trash as I hunted for my phone to figure out what time it was. It was on the bed. Noon, as usual, it seemed. That was just when I seemed to get up no matter how early I'd passed out the night before.
Speaking of that night before, it had almost gone well. It probably would have been more fun if I'd shot up before I went, but still, I could think of at least a hundred ways it could have been worse.
I drank some water and got under the shower feeling strangely good – good compared to the way I usually felt, at least, which was horrible. I got out and got dressed, searching for where I'd left the in-room dining menu.
It was lunchtime, right? Why didn't I just go out and eat? I ate in my room all the time. It was getting charged to the room either way. I had like five different restaurants to choose from; it might even be fun.
I walked out of the room and went down to the lobby. I knew I could go down to the bar to see Keno, but I was hungry. Maybe later.
I spotted Abby and Makani behind their desk. They were talking. Abby's hair was down the way it had been the night before. She was smiling at whatever her friend was telling her. She glanced in my direction and stopped talking. She looked at me again, doing a double take like she'd just seen a ghost. Her friend looked over, too. I nodded at them and kept walking.
Maybe she was surprised I'd left my room? I couldn't think why. She had been the one who’d suggested it in the first place. After some searching, I found a restaurant with a lunch buffet going. I loaded my plate up with more food than I knew I'd be able to finish before finding a place to sit. A waiter came and took my drink order. I thought about getting a beer, but I was having such a good day, I asked for water.
I dug in. The food was good. A lot of things were good. I wasn’t feeling sick, I wasn’t stressed, and I’d left my room for the second time without being recognized by anybody.
I didn't want to jinx it, but who knew all it would take to turn my shit around was getting out of my own head. I wasn't dumb enough to think it would last, but I also wasn't going to waste it just waiting for the ball to drop.
I heard the sound of a chair scraping the ground in front of me and looked up. It was Abby. She was sitting across from me with a look on her face like she was upset. I didn't know what to say for a second, so I just looked at her.
"Hungry?" I asked.
"No," she said shortly. "I see you got to your room last night."
"I did. Listen, if you're gonna sit there, I'm gonna have to ask you to grab a plate because it's awkward being the only one eating."
"How are you even talking like that after last night?" I looked at her. She sounded way too much like Kirsten, accusing me of something I had done wrong.
"What happened last night?"
"You don't-" she leaned in like she was going to tell me a secret. "You sure you don't remember?"
I shrugged. Was she upset about the way I'd left her on the beach? It had been an emergency. I had thought I could make it through the night and I got pretty fucking far, but in the end, couldn't do it. I wasn't proud of it, but why was she mad about that? I had told her not to worry about it.
"Nope. Nothing."
"I saw you last night."
"I remember. I saw you, too. You invited me to the luau."
"Not there. In your suite, on the couch with a...with that thing sticking in your arm," she said. My jaw dropped. She'd followed me to my room? She'd been in there while I was sleeping?
"Who let you in my room?"
"The door was open; you didn't even make sure it was closed before you...did that to yourself."
"I don't know what you think you saw, Abby, but it was in my private suite that I'm paying a lot of money for. It's none of your business."
"I was there because I was sent to check on you. You weren't well. You were acting weird, and we were worried."
"You have nothing to worry about because nothing is wrong. Just forget whatever you think you saw."
"You're going to sit there and tell me nothing was wrong when I found you passed out in your room with a needle in your arm?" she asked sharply.
"A little louder, Abby, I don't think the entire restaurant heard you," I snapped sarcastically. She sat back.
"I haven't told anyone. Am I the only person who knows?"
"You don't know anything, okay? You came in my room without permission. You weren't even supposed to be there."
"Why would you do something like that? What's happening that's so awful that you have to use drugs?" she asked. She whispered the last two words like they were swear words.
"I have nothing else to say to you. Nothing happened. I'm here, aren't I? I'm fine. I want to eat my fucking lunch and go back to my suite in peace."
"No. You aren't going back to your suite to spend the rest of the day alone." I narrowed my eyes at her. What now? She'd started mad and now she just wasn't making sense anymore.
"Why? Because I'm on an island paradise in a world-star resort?" I asked, using her words from the night before.
"You don't have to do this. You don't have to face this alone. I want to help you."
"Help me do what? I haven't asked you to do anything but leave me alone and forget what you saw."
"Help you see that it's worth it. You've been in your suite all this time, and the island's bigger than that. Your life is bigger than that."
"Oh, I don't appreciate my life? Thanks, Dr. Drew. I didn't know this was an intervention," I said sarcastically. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know what I saw, and I know that whatever you're going through must be extremely difficult. No matter what it is."
"No. Stop it. It's nice that you want to help, but I didn't fucking ask you to. Whatever happens when I am in my suite alone is none of your business. Don't come in my room again." I stood up, taking my plate with me. I walked away, not bothering to see whether she had followed me or not.
That bitch. She wanted to teach me that my life was worth living? My thoughts were swirling around my head. What I needed her to do was stand at that front desk and leave me the fuck alone. Why did she think she had the right to come up to me and say that shit? She went straight to the point, making assumptions nobody asked her to make.
Part of me was mad that she had said anything at all, but another part was mad about how right she was. A couple of the other guys in Remus knew about the dope, but they never told me anything. She had been nosy and annoying, but she wasn't wrong – and I didn't know whether I was sort of pleased about that or not.
When you have something people want, they get close to you, but not because they want to be your friends. They're leeches who want to suck you dry or enablers who don’t care whether you run yourself into the ground because it’s not their problem. Nobody had ever called me on my bullshit like that, and even if I wish she hadn't, it was sort of nice that she gave enough of a fuck to say something.
I was shelling out thousands of dollars a night to stay here, and their only job was to give me whatever I wanted. She didn't have to care that I was an addict. She didn't just care, she sounded almost sad that I was doing that to myself.
I got
into the elevator and waited to go up to my suite. She was walking through the lobby back to the desk as the doors were closing. She was running a hand through her hair and looked mad.
Apologize to her, I thought suddenly.
No, you told her to fuck off; why would you go back over there to talk to her again?
The doors closed and stopped me before I did anything stupid. I got to my room and left my plate on the table, not really that hungry anymore. I felt restless. I wanted to do something because I knew what happened when I got like this. It would start. It'd start bubbling up until it was too much and I'd use again.
Television wouldn't work. I didn't want to go on the internet. I paced around, suddenly remembering the piano. Yeah. That would do it. It would keep my hands busy. I sat at the piano and touched the keys, waiting to hear something. The stuff I had composed for Remus wasn’t even half of the work I had accumulated since I had started writing music. I had more music than I knew what to do with. When it came out of me, I had to put it somewhere.
Sometime must have passed before I stopped, realizing something. My hands weren't shaking. I wasn't sweating. I felt fine.
I had been fine all day, but right then I was calm. Sitting there at the piano, I felt like everything was okay. I had been so heated after what had happened with Abby, that was the sort of thing that would have sent me right off the edge, using again, but I hadn't.
This weird urge came over me to say something to her. To tell her that I had found something. One of those things she said she wanted to show me that would make me want to stop using. I got to the phone and dialed the number for the front desk.
"Good afternoon. Thank you for calling Four Seasons Lanai, you're speaking to Abby. How may I help you?" she asked me.
I slammed the phone back into the receiver. What the hell was I doing? She didn’t care; hadn’t I told her to fuck off and leave me alone? Fuck, make up your mind, I thought. Either you’re doing this shit alone or you’re taking her up on her offer. I remembered her face after I had left her, like she was hurt. There was no way her offer still stood. Nobody was that nice.