One of the girls that I bonded with was named Bridget. On the outside, she was harsh and mean. She had a demeanor about her that said, “Don’t fuck with me,” but honestly, she was one of the nicest women I’d ever met. She and I shared the same drug addiction: heroin. Others were addicted to crack, angel dust and cocaine. During our weekly gatherings, we’d all sit in a circle and discuss issues that we all faced. It took a lot of courage to sit in a group since I’d closed myself off to everyone. That was my least favorite thing about the rehab center, but the staff said it was imperative to attend the meetings. It allowed us to understand which situations can lead to addiction and when to recognize the warning signs.
After Rob was gone, I seriously contemplated whether I would ever allow myself to get into a serious relationship ever again. It was a slap in the face, one that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I couldn’t handle another heartbreak like that again. Sure, I wouldn’t say that Rob and I were soul mates by any means, but I loved him and he was Alex’s dad. We were supposed to get married, but fate had other plans. Even though my feelings for him faded over time, I still wouldn’t allow myself to get involved with another man. It seemed as though marriage would never be in the cards for me.
My days were filled with playing with Alex and going to work. It was hard making ends meet. I was working as a bartender in the Power and Lights District in Kansas City. Tips were excellent, especially on the weekends. There were a few regular customers who would come in just to sit and talk. When they’d leave, they’d drop a ten or a twenty inside my tip jar. I tried to work as much overtime as I could to ensure that we had the things we wanted in life. Our basic needs were met and we never lived extravagantly, but I wanted us to live comfortably. My parents watched Alex while I was at work, and when they couldn’t my little sister, Caroline would. I was very blessed to have the support that I did, though, I didn’t realize it at the time. It’s funny how hitting rock bottom can open your eyes and make you see things that you never saw before.
Rob, Alex’s dad, came to the funeral. Oddly, he didn’t seem to care how I was doing. I’m not sure exactly what I expected; maybe a hug or an ‘I’m sorry’, but that was far from what I received. He was angry—at me. He said that he blamed me for Alex’s death. I didn’t realize it until I shared this with my counselor, but that may have very well contributed to my drug abuse problem that I later developed. Rob said his goodbye’s to Alex as they lowered his tiny coffin into the ground and was on the next plane to Washington before I could blink an eye. It was hard to see him at the funeral, but it was harder dealing with his cold shoulder and horrible attitude.
After the funeral, we had a luncheon that was catered by my sister’s church. Theresa has always been there for me since we were little kids, and she saw to it that the day went smoothly. There was enough food to feed a small army and at the end of the luncheon, everyone gathered to release balloons in honor of Alex; to celebrate his life. One of the women from the church gave me the best advice that I’ve ever heard. She said not to tell my baby goodbye; she said that I should tell him ‘I’ll see you later.' Gloria, the woman who offered these wise words, said that one day, we’ll all be reunited in heaven. The thought of seeing my baby again sent joy radiating through my body, even if it would be another 40 or 50 years.
As time went by, I became more withdrawn; almost non-existent. My family would invite me over for dinner; sometimes my parents and other times, my sisters. I couldn’t face them; I felt as though Rob was right. Alex’s death was completely my fault. If I had kept a closer eye on him, he might still be here. I blamed myself a lot for his death. The thoughts of it began to consume me. I started having nightmares about his death, and when I did, I always woke up screaming in a sweaty mess. Sometimes Rob would be in the dreams while other times it was just Alex and I. Unable to sleep at night, I began staying up to avoid the nightmares. I’d wake up around 5 PM, most of the day was gone. I’d jump in the shower and go to work. When I’d come home at the end of my shift, I’d play solitaire or go sit on Alex’s bed and stare at the papers he did in school. His tiny, sloppy handwriting. I can still remember the day he came home and boasted about how he knew how to write his name. He showed me how to make each letter, which wasn’t bad until he made the ‘x’. The ‘x’ looked more like a‘t’. I smiled and told how great of a job he did, positive that he’d work out that ‘x’ next year; but the next year would never come.
My mom was the one who noticed my depression, and encouraged me to see a doctor. I always thought people who said they were depressed were lying; they must want attention, is what I told myself. My mom detected my weight loss and observed the dark circles under my eyes. She said she hadn’t seen me smile since before the funeral, which was true. Refusing to make the call, she called our family doctor for me. Dr. Jenson said that I had all of the classic signs of depression and prescribed medication that would help combat those symptoms, and sleeping medication to help me sleep at night. None of it worked. When I went back for my follow-up appointment, Dr. Jenson could tell that the medication wasn’t operating as intended so he switched me to a different drug and upped the dose.
With my new prescription in hand, I could tell that it was doing something to my body, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I felt loopy and out of it, but it did help take my mind off of reality, which was great. Not having to deal with reality was a godsend to me. I no longer had to think about Alex or how Rob had blamed me for our son’s death, and I didn’t care that my house was trashed. I didn’t care if the dishes and laundry were piled up. Life was beautiful—until it quit working. I went back to the doctor and asked for something stronger, which he obliged. My new prescription was even more awesome. It would knock me out for hours on end, but that soon wore off too. Selfishly, I began taking more than prescribed and would run out before I could get my next refill.
Dr. Jenson knew that I wasn’t taking them as prescribed and refused to write me another script. This was when I turned to street drugs. I wish that I never worked at that bar. Sure, I’d made plenty of money while working there, especially when I was taking care of Alex, but this is where I met Danny. There had been whispers in the bar that Danny was a drug dealer, but you hear lots of rumors when you work at a bar. I tried not to believe everything I heard, but the talk about Danny seemed to stick. Once I thought about it, I realized that it probably wasn’t a rumor and that it was true. The way so many people approached him in one night, almost every night, was insane.
One day, when it was slow, he was sitting at the bar making small talk. I decided to ask him if the rumor was true. At first, he denied it, but I assured him that I wouldn’t blow his cover to authorities. Reluctantly, he finally told me that he was. I casually asked what he sold, and when he said that he mainly dealt pills, weed, and a few other things, I almost fell over. Here I was, in need of drugs, and this man who had what I needed sat right before me. This was when I made my first deal.
The rush of buying drugs—granted they were just prescription pills—was crazy. I snuck to the back and popped them when no one was looking. Soon, I became such a pro at popping pills that I didn’t even need water to take them. Danny would come in, order a drink and when he paid, he’d slip me a couple of pills with the money. I’d hide his money under the coaster that his drink was on when everyone was busy. Nobody suspected a thing. This is what made it so easy. It’s ironic how everyone can know you, but not actually know you.
My counselor, Barb, said that I need to avoid these types of situations. Initially, I protested and said that’s how I made my money; working at the bar. She suggested that I find a new job, one where drug dealers couldn’t easily slip me drugs and there were fewer temptations. I had no idea where I would work. Factory jobs were out of the question since I had no previous experience, I refused to work fast food, and I had no computer skills so that left secretarial or call center work out of the equation. Barb said that before she would sign my discharge papers, I would need
to find a suitable job. Turning to my family for help, my little sister offered me a job working with her at Fast Fuel. As the store manager, she said she could easily train me within a couple of days and the work was easy.
“All you’ll do is run the register when it’s busy. And when you’re slow, you stock the coolers, wipe down the counters and maybe run a broom across the floor,” Caroline told me.
“That’s it?” I asked, figuring there was more to it than that.
“That’s all,” she said, hopeful that I’d come work for her.
I took a few days to think it over. Working at a gas station didn’t sound that appealing, but if it meant getting on with my recovery, then I was game. During my time in rehab, I often wondered what my life would’ve been like had I not met Rob or gotten pregnant with Alex. I had hoped to graduate from the Art program and teach young students how to draw realistically when it came to shading and shadows; those types of things. My life would’ve turned out much differently, I’m certain of that.
About a month before I was released from rehab, my counselor spoke with my sister several times and found a sponsor that I could talk to once I got out. She also arranged NA meetings for me, or narcotics anonymous meetings, but I didn’t want to go to those. I hated the group programs inside the rehab, there was no way I was going to them voluntarily once I was outside the center. I was happy with my new sponsor, Ryan, and the help and support of my family. Things were finally looking up for me, and I was glad to be starting a new life.
My first few days of work on the new job sucked, but I stuck it out. There were definitely days where I came home and wanted to crawl under the covers to never be seen again. Customers grew impatient with me as I learned how to run the gas pump machine and the register; it was quite nerve-racking. By the end of the week, though, I was becoming familiar and comfortable with all the various machines and had them down in no time.
I was proud of myself. For the first time in a long time, I could say that I was finally standing on my own two feet again. While I was lonely in the evenings after coming home from a hard day of work, I didn’t know if I was quite ready to date again. I hadn’t dated since Rob. When he left me, I swore off men. Alex was my little guy and we had lots of fun dates together. He was all this woman needed; but now, I wasn’t so sure of myself anymore. I wanted someone to come home to but wasn’t ready to commit to a relationship just yet.
I’d thought about getting a puppy, but then you have to potty train it and pick up dog poop. That didn’t sound appealing to me, so I thought about getting a ferret but they stink. My sister suggested that I find a hobby, but I was still struggling with ordinary day to day living. I wasn’t ready for a hobby; I had no desire to join any groups or be around a lot of people. Working with all the customers at Fast Fuel sometimes gave me anxiety, but I kept it to myself. Eventually, I found comfort in painting my nails. It came by accident, actually. Who does their nails for fun? Actually, lots of women do. I found cool stamp kits that make designs and when I got paid, I’d find myself in the cosmetic aisle, buying more colors than I knew existed. Painting my nails and changing the designs on them gave me something to do with my time, and it didn’t involve being around others. It was perfect.
Chapter Two
While Audrey was busy sustaining her own life, Chad often thought about her. There was something about her; something artistic, dark and alluring. Though they’d only casually dated, the memories they’d created together never ceased to escape him. He often found himself comparing other women to her, but none of them ever caught his attention as Audrey had. When she started dating Rob, he was a bit envious that they’d become an exclusive couple instead of them. With his cocky, promiscuous demeanor, he would never commit himself to one relationship, which left him feeling as though he’d let the good one get away. That good one was Audrey.
Chad would often frequent the library where she worked, pretending to do research which gave him an excuse to be there. Sure, there were plenty of college girls who wanted to date him—and they did—but they all lacked one thing: personality. Not Audrey, she had an outstanding disposition, but his pride and ego wouldn’t allow him to have an exclusive relationship with her. His friends expected him to be single and free and, like a dummy, that’s exactly what he did. It would have been completely out of his character to chase a girl down.
He never understood why he stopped seeing her in the halls or in the college library until he overheard a few of her friends talking in one of the college’s cafés. A small group of her friends were having lunch, discussing whether Audrey was coming back or not. The conversation definitely piqued his interest. He eavesdropped on their discussion while he pretended to read a book as he ate his lunch. By the end of that meal, he learned that she was pregnant and was probably not coming back.
Over the years, he went on with his college education and had discreet relationships here and there; mostly one-night stands or casual dating partners. With a nearly 4.0 GPA, he graduated at the top of his class, majoring in computer sciences. His success and talent paid off when he built a technology company from the ground up and began selling his software to Fortune 500 companies. To say it made him a small fortune would be inaccurate. He became a billionaire!
Focusing solely on his business paid off financially, but he still felt a void. He often found himself daydreaming of his dates with Audrey and wished he could go back in time to change things. Maybe if he hadn’t been so reluctant for them to become an item, things might have turned out differently for him. Some days, he was unable to think of anything else as his chest became heavy and he lost the ability to concentrate. After several years, he decided to try to locate her, just to see if her and her old boyfriend, Rob Lawrence, were still together and what her life was like now. He was amazed when he saw a newspaper article online that featured her name and the mention of a fatal automobile accident though it had no mention of Rob; but it did mention the name, Alex.
Suddenly, he felt dizzy and his stomach began to churn. His eyes darted back to the title of the headline as he found himself unable to click the link. Tightening in his chest took over and his breaths became labored; he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath to prevent himself from hyperventilating. Slowly, he opened his eyes and willed himself to click on the link. As he scanned the article, he noted that Alex was Audrey’s son and continued reading on as he learned more details about the accident. His heart broke when he saw that Alex was her son. When he’d first read the search engine result and saw her name with Alex’s name, he assumed that Alex was the other driver. He wished he’d been correct once he read the entire news article.
A sudden urgency overwhelmed him and he realized that he needed to reach out to her even though it had been over a year since the accident. His gut told him that she needed him, though he couldn’t explain why. Continuing to search for her online, he was unable to locate any information about her; not even a social media account. The search engine had indexed several social media pages, but every time he clicked on one, a message appeared saying the page was no longer available. As a last resort, he thought of searching for her son’s obituary. Still at work, he got up from his desk and closed his office blinds to prevent anyone from seeing in. He didn’t know how he’d react once he found it—if he found it—but he didn’t want to put himself on display. Returning to his desk, he reluctantly sat down in front of his computer. With his shoulders slumped forward and head bowed, he slowly typed in ‘Alex Morris Obituary’ and hit the enter key. Clasping his hands together while the search engine returned his results, he scanned the hallway to make sure no one was coming.
His stomach began to churn as his heartbeat pounded. Is it right, he thought, to search for a dead child to find his mother? Bile began to sour in his mouth as his limbs became shaky. The search brought back a hit and he clicked the link to the online obituary. It saddened him to see it. The first thing that caught his eye was the picture at the top of the obituary that featured A
lex and Audrey together. She was holding him in her arms as he blew bubbles from, presumably, their front porch; she still looked the same. Her medium chestnut brown hair flowed gently over her shoulders and she hadn’t gained a pound since college. She was still petite at 5’4” and roughly 130 pounds. He noted that the picture must’ve been from the previous fall as they were both wearing blue jeans and she had on a sweatshirt; Alex sported a hoodie with a car on the front. The two of them looked adorable.
Reading the obituary sent chills down his spine as goose pimples broke out all over his body and he felt cold. His chest ached for Audrey and her loss. He could feel a lump forming in his throat as his chest continued to tighten. Trying to regain his composure, he left his office and headed to the men’s room. He needed to splash cool water on his face against his gummy eyelids. On his trip down the hall, everything seemed to move in slow motion. He avoided eye contact as he felt the need to be alone. The last thing he wanted was for someone to strike up a conversation with him after learning about what happened to Audrey and her son.
Splashing cool water on his face and getting a drink from the water fountain seemed to help him, but he knew his work wasn’t finished. The online obituary would be staring him in the face when he sat back down in front of his desk, and he knew he still had to find Audrey. He’d already read the obituary, but it had no mention of where they lived or what school the boy went to; however, it did list his relatives. Hesitant to return to his desk, he took the long way back to his private office. He needed time to think, organize his thoughts and sort out his feelings. Distancing himself for a moment seemed to help, but he couldn’t dismiss the feeling of sadness that remained.
Addicted (A Billionaire Romance Novel) Page 2