by Piper Payne
“Hmmm … sexual frustration, uncomfortable G-strings, confusing men that you may or may not have loved since you were sixteen, and the impending doom that I will end up a lonely cat lady!” I took my shot, not waiting for anyone else to join.
Max raised his glass. “I’m bitching fitting to the new guy that moved in across the street from my building complex and his black boxer briefs.” We all looked over at him with sardonic expressions. “What? I’m seventy percent sure he’s gay and I figured I’d stick with the whiny underwear theme.” He smiled a Cheshire cat smile at me as I flipped him off. “I’m just bitching because I think he may already be in a relationship, at least that’s what my binoculars say.” He shrugged, laughing.
“Okay, my turn,” June said, sipping on her colorful tall drink with fruit and an umbrella. “How about insomnia, tax season, Spanx, and the asshole who never called me after our lunch date the other day.”
“I am not even going to ask what Spanx are, but they sound really hot,” Austin said, raising his glass. “I would like to adjourn by saying I’ve had a fantastic fucking week.” He took his shot and grinned at us arrogantly.
An hour later I was at the crowded bar ordering everyone a round of drinks. “Two tequila shots—silver please—one sour apple martini, and one of those girly drinks that smells like strawberries and bubblegum.” I snagged a barstool and sat there twisting a strand of my hair, watching the bartender pour and mix. He slid me my drinks and walked away with my cash. I’d never admit it to June, but after her little privacy breach I let my imagination get the best of me. Maybe Landon was hiding something?
“Let me guess, the apple martini is yours?” I didn’t turn to look at the unfamiliar, sexy male voice that’d just sat down next to me. It was the kind that made your nipples hard—rough and rhythmic, like it’s being whispered into your ear as you get fucked.
Out of my peripheral I could see him staring at me, waiting for a response, so I decided to toy with him. I picked up the tequila and ran my tongue along the rim of the glass, licking the salt. I sipped the liquid slowly, making sure as I finished he had a very clear view of my neck. Then I put the lime in my mouth, sucking on it, hoping he could picture me doing the same thing to his dick.
I swiveled on the barstool and slid my empty shot glass toward him. “Nope.” I said, making eye contact with a bitchy smile.
It took me a second to recognize him, but I nearly choked up my tequila when I did. His smile was pure wicked, and it took every bit of control for my mouth not to drop to the floor in response. I stood up, gathered the rest of the drinks, and tried to calmly walk back to our table without him noticing a single falter in my opposition. I finally solved the color mystery. His eyes were hazel with speckles of gold and green.
I got back to our table and handed everyone their drinks. “Austin who’s the band playing here tonight?”
“Um, I’m not sure.” He looked around spotting a flyer, grabbed it off another table, and brought it back. “Redeemed Glory.” I didn’t have to ask my next question because the realization on Austin’s face told me my answer.
“Did you see him here or something?” he asked, taking the other tequila shot.
“Yeah, at the bar. Either he’s a complete ass and knows exactly who I am, or he’s oblivious and was just trying to hit on me.”
“Oh, hell I can already see the wheels turning in your head. Just avoid him tonight. None of this siren seduction get-and-ditch shit that you used to pull.”
“You’ve only heard stories, and I wasn’t that bad. Plus, it seems like he might already be better at that game.” I looked over at the bar and my body had already been replaced with a tall redhead. Austin might’ve been right about Jesse White.
On Friday we announced that Brett Turner, Austin’s cousin, won the ‘Love Me Larkin’ contest. I agreed because Brett wasn’t actually interested in dating me; his girlfriend of seven years just ended their long term relationship so he was hoping it would make her jealous and she’d come running back to him. Plus, Landon didn’t try to intervene and take his place like I hoped he would.
As the night continued I tried to push my inconsistent thoughts of Landon out of my mind. It was easier with my friends; we drank, laughed, and suckered Max into asking out the hot bartender with gauged ears and a perfectly styled mustache. Eventually June dragged us onto the crowded dance floor. Temporarily freed of worry, I let the alcohol and music pulse through my body. As I got lost in the moment, I could feel his eyes on me. I knew he was watching; he had been the entire night and it excited me. I danced slowly, swaying my hips and letting my arms rise above my head, my shirt rising up enough to tease with a hint of my stomach. The effects of the tequila and lime lingered just enough to make my movements confident as I tried to casually spot him in the crowd. I finally found him sitting in the shadows by the stage, ignoring his group of friends and eager-to-get-in-his-pants women as he sipped his beer and stared at me. I shyly bit my lip and looked away trying to shake my thrill and curiosity.
His band was announced and took the stage a couple songs later; I’d secretly been excited to hear them play all night. As they started their first song, I could feel the energy of the crowd intensify as bodies became closer and more intimate. I was completely smitten. It was soulful, raspy, and raw. I felt him. No other explanation. I danced to his seductive voice and swallowed his music down like a sedative.
June leaned into me and screamed over the music. “Larkin, he has been eye fucking you this entire time!” I just shook my head like I didn’t know what she was talking about.
After a few more songs, I left the dance floor. I told June I needed some water, but mostly I wanted to vanish from Jesse’s eyes. I hadn’t realized how silly and rejected I felt. Maybe I was enamored with the idea of him. Choosing someone on paper was obviously different when you met them in person, but still, everything about him had me intrigued when it shouldn’t.
I found a seat in the back right corner of the bar hidden from the stage’s view. My job was to appreciate music—the talent, the meaning, and the feeling it gave you. As much as I wanted to turn it off right at the moment, I couldn’t ignore the way his music made me feel. It was utterly useless to ignore. Every word Jesse sang captured me, and every note he played moved through my body like electricity, wild and careless.
I chewed on my lip as he searched for me, his speckled eyes roaming around the room. Or maybe that was just my foolish hope, there was probably some other woman standing in the crowd thinking the exact same thing, admiring his worn jeans with a chain that linked from his belt loop to his wallet and gray concert tee that showed his half sleeve of tattoos. I couldn’t tell what they were from this far away so I unconsciously scooted my chair closer.
His guitar was a black electric Gibson, but as soon as they finished the song he switched to an acoustic, pulled out a stool, and sat down mid-stage. The crowd immediately went quiet as he started to play solo, all eyes focused on him. The melody filled the bar as he strummed, and when he began to sing I sat there tethered to the words. I closed my eyes and ingested the medicinal poetry. The song was about anger, and loss, trying to find peace in the aftermath of the storm so you could wake up to face another day. Every word struck a chord inside of me, and before I knew it I’d grabbed my coat and was rushing out of the side exit of the bar to get some fresh air. I leaned up against the cold brick building choking down deep breaths, trying to collect my thoughts. What in the hell was wrong with me? Even if I didn’t have it all together, I was really good at pretending.
“Larkin, are you okay?” Austin came barging out the door seconds later with a worried glare.
“Yeah, sorry. I just needed some fresh air.”
He came over putting his hand on my shoulder, examining my face to see if I was truly alright. “It’s getting late. I’ll go grab June and Max so we can go. Will you be okay until I get back?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I nodded, forcing a smile until he was out of sig
ht.
The moon drew me in as I tucked my hands into my coat pockets and looked up at the winter night sky. The icy atmosphere cooled my skin as I watched my warm breath dance in the air. I had the sudden feeling of déjà vu. I was five years old. It was winter in Montana and I was sitting in the back seat of my mom’s rusted, old Cadillac wearing a dirty white nightgown holding on to my favorite stuffed animal. She had parked the car near a rundown building that had colorful flashing lights, a light haze of smoke floating out of the entrance door, and loud music blaring from the inside.
“Mommy’s going to find you a new daddy tonight, Little Bird, so stay in the backseat and go to sleep.” She lit up her crack pipe from the driver’s seat then blew smoke in the air, ignoring me as I coughed.
I really hoped she found me a new daddy soon because my stomach really hurt and I’d already peed in the diaper she put me in. I was trying to be a big girl and not cry, but I was scared and wanted to tell my mommy not to leave me. I wanted to tell her that I was really hungry and she forgot to feed me again. I wanted to tell her I didn’t like being alone in the dark car. But Mommy didn’t like when I complained, so instead I hugged my stuffed animal and cried, pushing my face into its cotton to catch the tears.
“Alouette, gentille alouette, je te plumerai le bec.” She got out of the car slamming the door. Before she walked away she tapped on my window, leaning in toward the cold glass, and through gritted, yellow teeth said, “Stay hidden and don’t leave the car.”
Eventually my eyes grew heavy from crying and I drifted off to sleep. I woke up when the car started to sputter and died, which shut off the heat that she’d left on for me. I continued to peek out the window, waiting for her to return, until the glass started to frost over from the cold. I gave up and lay down, curling up into a ball, shivering in the backseat. I knew if I cried it would only make me colder, so I just sat there and concentrated on my breath that clouded in the air because it was the only thing that was warm.
Max walked outside letting the large metal door slam shut. “Hey, Lark. Austin’s still trying to find June, then we’ll get out of here.”
“Sorry to be the party crasher,” I said as he wrapped his arms around me so we could get warm.
“Sweetie, it’s 1:30 a.m. and my teeth are numb from too many martinis. I am so ready to go home.” He kissed my forehead as we shivered into each other. “Max, do you ever get sick of trying to pretend you’re okay and that the past didn’t happen?”
“Every day, doll. Every day.” He sighed.
We both jumped, startled by the sound of shouting and a woman crying loudly coming from the back of the building. Concerned, Max and I looked at each other and cautiously started heading toward the noise. As we came around the corner, a woman and two men were kneeling over another man’s body trying to force water down his throat.
“What are you doing?” I yelled, running over pushing them off of him. “He’s going to choke to death!” I knelt down by the body and recognized him. He was the drummer of Redeemed Glory. Onstage he didn’t look like a user, but up close I could see the fading signs. He’d been recently clean, well, until tonight. I looked over and lying next to him on the ground was the uncapped needle. I pushed up his sleeve and could see fresh injection marks.
“What is he on?” I screamed, but they all sat there looking at each other not wanting to be the snitch.
The back door opened, Jesse and a few of his bandmates rushed outside trying to make sense of the scene that was splayed in front of them.
“WHAT IS HE ON?” I screamed again and the girl finally broke her silence. “Heroin!” she wailed. “Aaron just shot up less than five minutes ago, I think … I think … he just had a seizure!”
"Someone call 9-1-1! Tell them we have a Caucasian male in his late twenties that just overdosed on heroin!” Without having to ask, I looked up at Max and he nodded and ran off to find June.
Panic started to instantly surge through my body, pumping fear into my nerves and veins. I rolled Aaron into the recovery position to get rid of the water they’d just forced down his throat. It poured out of him like a river as he vomited, unconscious. Everyone around me stood there in shock. I looked down and noticed the pool of blood forming beneath us. When I rolled him to his side, blood began oozing from the back of his head where he had fallen and cracked his skull on the concrete. “Give me your shirt!” I yelled to Jesse. He obeyed immediately and with the cotton fabric in my hand, I pressed it against Aaron’s skull trying to stop the bleeding.
I stared at the lifeless body in front of me that was now starting to turn blue. I checked his airway; he’d stopped breathing. Oh god! I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this! My own lungs started to tighten and the beginning signs of my own suffocation began to form. Ignoring my own body, I rolled Aaron onto his back and started CPR. I had to focus on his body, not mine. I had to worry about his breath, not mine. I couldn’t lose control.
“WHERE IS JUNE?” I screamed, not certain if sound really came out of my mouth. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I won’t be able to live with myself if he dies just like my mother did. I couldn’t save her. I tried to bring her back to life and I couldn’t do it! I tried to push away the poignant flashbacks of my mother’s death as they rose to the surface. The rotten smell of the room—vomit and blood. The look on her face that etched itself into the back of my eyelids. Death had a face, and it was soulless, empty, and cold. An elixir of stopped time and twisted fate. It wasn’t just the moment of her death that I felt guilty for, it was all the other moments that I could’ve done more to prevent her from destroying herself.
Jesse knelt down on the other side of Aaron’s body and started switching off with me after every two breaths and thirty compressions. As I pressed into Aaron’s chest, arms locked and sweat running down my back, I looked into Jesse’s speckled eyes as he whispered words of encouragement and adoration toward me. The noise surrounding me disappeared into a muffled metallic hum and all I could hear was Jesse’s voice and my own rapid heart pounding as I continued trying to give someone else life.
Suddenly I felt June’s body next to mine taking over the CPR. It took everything in me to stand up and back away from Aaron’s unresponsive body. I stood there shaking and numb until Max grabbed me and carried me back inside the bar. The approaching sound of the ambulance sirens was what took me under; they echoed a haunting reminder of the life that I’d already let slip through my hands.
“Stay with me, Larkin.” Max said. I clung to him as we both slid to the floor; the room began to spin as I felt even more out of control.
When people describe a panic attack they usually say they felt as if they were dying. The problem I’d always struggled with was that I embraced the feeling of death. I used to want my life to finally end. I wanted the pain and emptiness to not have control over me anymore. I had nothing and no one to lose.
But one day I realized that no matter the strength or depth of my attacks, death would never come for me. My young life would still move forward, yet I was taunted and teased every time the hands of the reaper gripped my throat and lungs, as if to remind me that I was miserably alive.
I rode the waves in Max’s embrace until June ran inside and came crashing into me. “You saved him! You fucking saved him! Do you hear what I’m saying!” She grabbed my face, forcing me to look her in the eyes. I looked through her. My vision became fuzzy as my unshed tears started to build. “Don’t go to that dark place inside you, Larkin. Your mom was already dead. There was nothing you could do to bring her back!” I could smell the whiskey from Aaron’s mouth on June’s breath and taste it on my own lips. “Please, I can’t lose you again to this. Aaron is alive. Do you hear me? He’s alive because of you.” I nodded my head in response but the memories had already taken me under.
“Max, take her home. Stay with her until I get back. Austin and I will follow the ambulance to the hospital to make sure he’s okay.”
Five Days Later
&nb
sp; I was pretty good at pretending things didn’t happen, but it was almost like Aaron’s overdose opened the floodgate of suppressed memories. That Monday after work I immediately went and saw my therapist. There was no use denying what happened on Saturday night had completely fucked with my mind. I walked out of my two-hour session feeling responsible for whatever happened next in my life. I had two choices: move forward or backwards.
My therapist suggested I tell the story about what happened on the radio, leaving out names and exact details, and then invite a substance abuse counselor to fill our Friday guest spot on the show. “Take the positive out of this, Larkin. Just because something bad happens doesn’t mean that you’ve lost control of your life. You choose. You are the deciding factor of your fate. Maybe this happened for a reason. Do something good with it instead of destructive like you usually do.” His words fought against the depression that was already taking over like a fever.
The person I wanted to seek comfort in was Landon, but I hadn’t heard from him since Saturday afternoon. I thought about calling him, but truthfully I wanted him to call me. I wanted to see how long it would take for him to call me, and a selfish part of me wanted him to feel bad about what had happened because had he not canceled on me that night, I wouldn’t be sitting here trying to purge myself of buried feelings.
It took until Friday after the show, almost an entire week, for him to call me. I’d thought he vanished on me again.
“Larkin, are you okay?” His voice broke with hurt and concern.
“I think I’m going to be.” I threw my keys on my mirrored nightstand and curled up on the velvet pillows covering the bench sitting in front of my bedroom window.
Our Friday show was dedicated to substance abuse and addiction. Max was amazing and pulled it all together after I told him what my therapist recommended. The hardest part was sharing my story, but after talking with some of the recovering addicts that came into the studio to share their struggles on air, my insecurities and fears seemed so insignificant. The substance abuse counselor that came took anonymous calls from people who were searching for advice for themselves or family members. His work, The New Start Recovery Center, even gave away a free package for their detox and recovery program.