by M. L. Young
“Can he have his iPod?” Percy asked.
“We will have to go through it first, but yes, music is allowed in the rehabilitation process,” Shandra said.
“That’s good, huh?” Percy asked, trying to be optimistic.
“How long is the program?” I asked.
“Usually we ask for thirty days, though you’re always welcome to stay longer if you feel you need more time,” she said.
I bet I would be welcome to stay longer, and my wallet was welcome to tag along as well. I was paying for this all out of pocket, since the label refused because of the cost of stopping the tour, but I knew it was my own problem to bear anyhow. It was a nicer facility, with a pool, a spa, and massages a few times a week. It was a lot better than my old rehab facility, and maybe that would help. The ocean was right outside my room, too.
I signed the documents and was given a monitoring bracelet and a tour around the facility, though I’d seen much of it online. I was sure this was more of a resort and not so much a rehab facility. Actually, they had more to do here than even some of the best resorts I’d vacationed at. Maybe it was because you had nothing else to do, or at least anything involving cell phones, laptops, and Internet access.
“So there’s no electronic access whatsoever?” Percy asked.
“No, aside from a music device,” she said.
“What if something comes up and I need to speak with him?” Percy asked.
“There are weekly visitor hours, every Sunday, for one hour, though if something life-altering happens, we can relay news to the individual,” she said.
She sounded so calm, so at peace, and kind of like she was in a cult. I was scared to be left here, seeing the people outside playing tennis, taking walks, and wearing their white hemp pants and tops. This might be a front for a commune.
“Well, I’ll check out your room with you and then I guess I’ll get going,” Percy said.
We soon arrived at my room. It was spacious, with white French doors leading to a small balcony that overlooked the waves of the Pacific Ocean. It was beautiful, the waves crashing into the rocky shore and leaving a frothy white aura behind. The room itself was nice, the bed covered with white linen, and there was an en-suite bathroom complete with a soaking tub and shower.
“This is nicer than my entire place,” Percy said.
“We believe in total relaxation in our surroundings here. We want the patients to feel their very best so that they can heal and do nothing else,” she said.
“Think you’ll be happy here?” Percy asked, looking at me.
“I think I will,” I said.
He gave me a hug, tightening his grip a little, before patting me on the back and walking out of the room. Shandra accompanied him, and I was left there, standing alone, before looking at my welcome packet and going through the steps and schedule.
I was going to win her back, I knew it.
•••
“Are you feeling an urge to use cocaine at this moment?”
It had been a week since I’d entered rehab, and I couldn’t have been doing better. I was starting to get off of it, to get away from the urges, and every day, every hour that passed, I felt more like myself.
“I can say that my urges have subsided quite a lot. There are still some, it’s only been a short amount of time, but I’m starting to see how my life of sobriety was before,” I said.
“That’s good to hear. To continue with your treatment, we must start to delve into your issues with drugs and alcohol and find a common reason why you are so addicted to them, and why use them, in the first place. So tell me, what made you start experimenting again after sober for so long?” Dr. Hart, my therapist, asked.
“My father, he passed away,” I said, rubbing my hands together.
“And you two were close?” she asked.
“No, that’s the weird bit. He was a horrible father, and he and I weren’t close at all, though we had mended things, at least enough to tolerate it,” I said.
“Why was he a horrible father?” she asked.
“Just growing up, he would do stuff, mean stuff, bad stuff. He’d beat my mother, sometimes beat me, drink a lot, and he was a nasty drunk. He had his brushes with unemployment, which led to even more drinking, wasting away the little money we had,” I said.
“And you resent him for that?”
“Yeah, I think I do, and did, and that’s why when I got old enough and could get away from him, I did. I just didn’t want to be near him,” I said.
“And what made you want to rekindle your relationship with him?”
“He got sick, and I wanted to try to mend things, maybe more for myself than for him. I figured that if he passed, I might regret at least not trying, you know?”
“And it worked?” she asked.
“Kind of, yeah, it did. We met, hugged it out, but there was always an underlying resentment. He got sicker, and I got him the care and facilities he needed so he could be comfortable. Not sure he deserved to be comfortable, but I did it anyway,” I said.
“And your mother?” she asked.
“Dead, but not because of him. She died from cancer about five years ago,” I said.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Were you two close?” she asked.
“Yeah, we were, though my mother was a bit of a mess, mainly because of him. We weren’t like sitting on the floor laughing and sharing, but I loved her a lot,” I said.
“So you said his death triggered you to use again, why is that, do you think? You said you weren’t close with him, and you had distanced yourself from him. Why would he, of all people, make you relapse?” she asked.
“I think because now I’m without any family, and he was my last tie to that. Also just because I knew that he got an easy way out, I guess,” I said.
“You mean he should’ve endured more before passing,” she said.
“Yeah, not physically or anything, or even sickness, but just mental pain. He should’ve had to live with what he did, and how he was, but he got off early. It’s not like he was ninety or anything,” I said.
“And you coped the only way you know how—with drugs and alcohol,” she said.
“Yeah, unfortunately. It really messed everything up,” I said.
“How do you think you’d react now if something terrible in your life happened? Are you nervous you’d just resort to your old vices again?”
“No, I’m not. It ruined things for me with a woman I love very dearly, and because of all of this I came here. If that couldn’t make me turn back to these things, then I know nothing else will,” I said.
“Well, that’s all the time we have for today. I believe we’re making great progress towards your recovery and getting to the root issues of your problems, Kai. I hope you have time to sit and reflect on what we talked about for our next session,” she said.
“Thank you, Dr. Hart. I’ll see you again soon,” I said, shaking her hand and walking out the door.
I didn’t share my past or heartaches with many people, but I knew I had to share them with her. I was here for recovery, not because I was forced to come here and was just skating by. I truly wanted to be clean and healthy, and admitting the things that impeded that process was the first step to making sure I was sane and in control of my faculties.
I walked back to my room and sat on my balcony, sipping a glass of chilled lemon water as I watched the waves crash below me. It was so relaxing, just sitting here, doing nothing and having no expectations.
I thought about Bianca every step of the way, seeing her face, her smile, when I closed my eyes at night, wondering if she thought about me or how I was doing. I didn’t deserve that kind of treatment, but I very much wanted it and hoped she was thinking of me. I was nervous to see her or talk to her again, but I knew things would work out for me, for us, in the end. They had to.
Chapter Twenty
Bianca
When Friday came and I got texts from Ned giving me a time and place for our date,
I couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. I wasn’t excited, but I also wasn’t dreading this date either. I was just nervous for the entire ceremonial dance of courting and dating again, though I was happy to have that time to get away and forget about my problems.
We’d texted some during the week, getting to know one another, though every time he said something I thought I was dreaming, and not in a good way. I missed Kai. I missed his cute texts, his random pictures, and just being with him. I started to doubt myself, to doubt if I made the right decision, but I knew that I made one that was probably best for me, and for him, even if he didn’t believe it then or now.
Ned said the date was casual, more of a get-to-know-you situation, so I dressed in jeans and a crop top, even though the weather wasn’t exactly beach season. I tried to look cute without looking too cute. He needed to work for this a little.
I took the bus down to the pier in Santa Monica, where I saw Ned waiting at the edge of the entrance just like he’d texted me. “Hey,” he said with a smile.
I gave him a hug, saying hello, before backing up while the two of us just kind of stared at one another. “What’s the plan?” I asked.
“I thought we could get some tacos and maybe walk or sit on the beach?” he asked.
“That sounds lovely,” I said with a smile.
Ned was a nice guy, a gentleman, and different than I thought he would be after meeting him at the bar. I kind of thought he looked like a douche, but he proved himself to be a nice guy. I thought his persona there was just an act and the real him was sweet and kind.
We ordered some tacos from a stand, mine extra hot and his mild, and we walked towards the sand with our Styrofoam containers. It was a little cold, the sun starting to set as couples held hands and walked, children played and jumped around, and seagulls flew around trying to nab any bits of food they could.
“Sit here?” he asked as we neared the lifeguard shack.
I nodded, and we sat down, cross-legged, before starting to eat. “So, you’re in graduate school?” he asked.
“Yup, almost done. I’m going for social work. How about you?” I asked.
“No MBA yet, but I did graduate from USC with a Bachelor’s in Business Administration. I work that corporate life, and let me tell you, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he said.
“It’s not?” I asked.
“No! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like most of my co-workers, but working in an office is nothing like I thought it would be like. I thought having my own cubicle would be fun, like a sitcom or something, but it’s just monotonous,” he said.
“Luckily for me I don’t have to deal with that, when I get my real job, that is,” I said.
“Do you do something else now?” he asked.
“I work at a grocery store. You know, the kale kind,” I said, laughing.
“Hey, kale is pretty good!” he exclaimed.
Ned was funny, and he had a wit about him that I truly did enjoy. He wasn’t trying too hard like most other guys, but was just being himself, which was goofy and fun to be around.
“The sunset sure is beautiful,” I said, looking out over the ocean.
“It’s even better seeing it with you,” he said.
I let off a little smile, putting my head down and looking at the sand, before he nudged me. “Feel like walking around?” he asked.
We got up, taking our time and walking down the beach, our shoes in our hands. His fingers started to drift as he got closer, finding mine and grabbing onto them. I felt weird, both good and bad, but I held his hand anyway, figuring he was a nice enough guy and wasn’t trying to grope me in the back seat of his car, so that was a good sign.
We didn’t have much more conversation. Maybe nerves were getting the best of us, or maybe we just didn’t have anything to say and were just enjoying the moment. As the sun started to flee from the sky, almost descending to the horizon, we walked back towards the pier, wanting to play games and go on rides instead of just walking along the beach.
The Santa Monica Pier was legendary, filled with the most fabulous assortment of games, rides, and vendors that sold anything carnival-related. A gem on the West Coast, it made me happy whenever I was here. “That’s cute,” I said, pointing nonchalantly to a purple monkey stuffed animal.
“I’ll get it for you,” he said, tugging me over towards the game.
“No, it’s okay! Really! You don’t need to waste your money on me,” I said.
“I can’t just not get it for you. At least one try,” he said.
“Fine, one try,” I said.
I knew he wouldn’t get it. The game, a milk bottle toss, would be rigged from the start. I felt bad he was wasting his money to try, but I knew I couldn’t talk him out of it. He was determined to get that stuffed animal for me, and one round of three balls wasn’t going to hurt anything, except maybe his ego.
“Good luck,” the guy behind the counter said, stepping aside.
People were watching as they walked by, mainly kids, as Ned took his first throw. He missed. “Oh, bad luck, kid. The lady wants the animal,” the vendor said, egging him on.
Ned threw the other two balls, hitting some of the bottles, but a fair amount of them still remained. “It’s the thought that counts,” I said, trying to keep moving.
“I can do this,” he said, forking over more money. I let out a sigh, wishing he’d just put his wallet away, but it kept coming. Three more balls turned into six, then twelve, and finally, fifteen.
After many more times money than the stuffed animal was worth, he hit all of them down, rejoicing, as I acted all happy and supportive even though I hated that he tried to do this. He handed me the monkey. It felt stiff and itchy, not exactly the idea I had in my head, but I acted like I loved it and it was as important as my future first-born.
I held the monkey like a baby while we walked around, back to holding hands, his chest puffed out and face a little red while he flexed his “man skills.” We went on the roller coaster, the West Coaster, as it zoomed all around, the lights and smells around the pier causing me to laugh and smile. It was nice, and my heart was starting to race, even though the coaster wasn’t anything spectacular for a grown woman. It just brought me back to my childhood, to the good times at the county fair, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“I should be thinking about getting back home soon,” I said after we got off the ride.
“How about one ride on the Pacific Wheel?” he said, looking at the giant Ferris wheel.
I had flashbacks of London, of riding the London Eye with Kai, but I was a good sport and agreed to go. It was much, much smaller than that, so the height wasn’t an issue, and besides, I was on to new beginnings, right?
We got into our little cart, which swayed a little as we sat down, before the door closed and we started to inch upwards. “This is great,” he said, looking out over the ocean.
Ned put his arm around me as the rotation started up, going as slow as molasses, and I tried to forget and just enjoy it. We hit the top, stopping for others to get on and off, as a small gust of wind tickled my neck and blew my hair back. I noticed him looking at me, so I looked back, giving a small smile, before it happened.
His eyes closed as he moved forward, like something out of a movie. He was going to kiss me, and I watched him come in slow motion like I was watching a car wreck happen live. I didn’t pull back, didn’t slap him, didn’t say anything. I just let it happen.
I closed my eyes, mainly to not be weird, and felt his lips press against mine. Nothing. There was no feeling, no spark, no butterflies, and nothing that I could attribute to a good kiss. It felt like kissing a relative.
He pulled back, smiling, and I did as well. I couldn’t be mean to him, I couldn’t ruin his night and date, especially since we were trapped together on the top of a damn Ferris wheel. I just had to deal with it and figure it out later when I got home and dished to Regan.
He tried to kiss me again before we left, but I t
urned and let him kiss my cheek, thanking him for a great date and for the stuffed animal, which I wasn’t even sure I wanted anymore. I walked towards the bus, got on, and was faced with something that I knew was going to haunt me.
How did I feel nothing with Ned? He was so nice, so gracious, he showed me a great time, and he was an attractive enough guy. Was I just damaged goods, or was there something else there? Something that I couldn’t let go of?
When I got home, Regan was waiting, since I’d texted her to stay up because it was going to be a long night. “What happened? Was it good? You have a stuffed animal,” she said, pointing to the purple mass in my hand.
“It was a nice date. We got tacos, walked along the beach, held hands, went on rides, and then he kissed me,” I said.
“Shit! And to think you didn’t want to go out that night,” she said.
“Kind of wish I hadn’t now,” I said.
“What? Why? Didn’t you like it and him?” she asked.
“I liked him a lot, he was so nice to me, but I didn’t like him, I don’t think,” I said.
“How was the kiss, though? That’s the biggest telltale sign,” she said.
“It was just a kiss, like from my grandfather or something,” I said, and Regan cringed. “I didn’t feel the way I did when Kai first kissed me.”
“Ah, now it’s coming full circle,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“You still love him, don’t you?” she asked.
“Well—”
“It’s a yes or no question, Bianca,” she said, her arms crossed.
I sat there thinking long and hard about my answer. Why was I faced with this? Why couldn’t I just have left my feelings in Paris? I felt like a fool even contemplating his existence right now, but I couldn’t help it. I still loved him.
“Yes, I still love him,” I said quickly.
“See, that wasn’t so hard. It’s about time you admitted it out loud. Shit, I was about to go crazy,” she said.