by Payge Galvin
The good news was the whole “not talking to, kissing, nor jumping on” Cam gave me much more time to spend with Cynda, taking yoga classes (in which she did not knock me over) and helping her sway the vote to Pretty Woman for movie night. I did not, however, join in on the group viewings of American Voice, because after the first few “deluded people auditioning” episodes, it was sort of boring.
I took a lot of trail rides, without Cynda, because she couldn’t risk the bouncing strain on her store-bought boobs. I did ride a few times with Jimmy from Genesis group, whom I discovered was some sort MMA prodigy who had developed his addiction to pain pills when a chokehold gone wrong had ruptured several discs in his neck. Jimmy barely spoke during our rides, but after living with Cynda, that was sort of refreshing. And he did end up inviting me to the gym, where he taught me some basic kickboxing, so I felt I’d at least earned a little of his respect. (Mostly because I didn’t cry when the heavy bag swung back and hit me in the face.)
“If I can get you to stop squealing every time you swing, I will consider it a personal victory,” Jimmy told me as we walked from the rec wing to the lobby. While he was barely winded from our workout, my tank top and hoodie were soaked through with sweat, and I was guzzling Fiji water like it was going out of style.
“Hey, because of you, I no longer tuck my thumb into my fist when I swing, so you should consider your contribution to society complete,” I told him.
“How have you not broken your thumb in this lifetime?” he asked, pushing the lobby door open.
“This may come as a shock to you, but I don’t actually get into that many fistfights.”
We entered the serene traffic of the lobby, with visitors coming in, patients rushing out to meet them, and new patients moving in. I spotted Cam near the registration desk, talking to Dr. Mueller. He nodded at me and gave me a little smile. I ducked my head but couldn’t keep the little grin off of my face. Jimmy lifted an eyebrow, but as usual, said nothing.
I deliberately looked away from Cam and toward the front door, where a familiar brunette came click-clacking across the tile in her ridiculously high floral print heels. My jaw dropped, and my eyes must have gone internet-kitten wide, because Jimmy gripped my arm gently.
“You OK, Vi?” he asked quietly.
“Allie,” I whispered. She looked so beautiful. Gone were the dark circles and slight puffiness left behind by too many late nights spent in the company of Mr. Smirnoff. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders in shiny chocolate waves, not a stringy, post-bender ponytail in sight. She looked whole. She looked healthy. She looked like the Allie I used to know. AA must have been just what she needed.
Despite the wave of homesickness and relief I felt seeing Allie, I couldn’t help but be just a little bit upset with her. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be here. She promised. She promised she’d stay away so we’d both have a chance to get well. This was part of what was so frustrating about dealing with Allie. She was cheerfully oblivious. She was absolutely immune to rules. She was walking right past me without even looking at me.
What the hell?
Allie walked to a far corner of the lobby and greeted a girl wearing several sweaters and a hoodie over leggings. I’d seen her once or twice in the therapy wing, but nowhere else. She’d certainly never introduced herself. The mystery girl’s limp blond hair hung around a nearly skeletal face, but that face had a big smile on it. The blond was happy to see Allie. I knew that feeling. I knew what it was like to be the center of Allie’s world, and I couldn’t help but be a little jealous of this girl, even if I was still sort of pissed at her. I knew how twisted that was.
Twisted emotions aside, the ease with which she was talking to this girl was a little weird. Allie had always been so shy in school. She had a hard time talking to people, until our sophomore year, when she discovered drinking. It was like her super-power. It made her more confident and more “fun.” And nothing I did could convince her that she was plenty of fun without it. Maybe that was something Allie shared with the mysterious blond waif.
“Violet?” Jimmy said softly. “Are you OK?”
I snapped back into reality, turning to Jimmy, who was staring down at me with an expression of concern. He was such a sweet, if barely verbal, guy. If I wasn’t already caught up in another completely inappropriate rehab-born relationship, I would totally go for him.
“I’m fine. Thanks, Jimmy,” I said, patting his arm over a tattoo, which I insisted translated into “sexy panda” no matter what Jimmy said. “I’m just going to rinse off the sweat before my jacket permanently molds itself to my body and can stand up on its own.”
“There’s an image,” Jimmy said, shuddering.
Waving off Jimmy and ignoring Cam’s presence, I jogged up the steps to the residential floors. Allie had come to New Beginnings to see someone else. I didn’t know how to feel about it. It had always been me and Allie, against the world. I was jealous that she had someone else here to visit. And I felt silly and embarrassed for assuming that she was there for me, to break the rules. But at the same time, maybe it was good for her. Maybe it was good for me, not to be the center of Allie’s universe.
‡
I tried to discuss this revelation in my next session with Dr. Mueller, but as usual, she flipped it around and made it about me. She was like Hannibal Lecter, only with psychiatry and not eating people.
“You talk about your relationship with Allie quite a bit. Would you say you devote an inordinate amount of energy to maintaining that friendship?”
I squirmed in my seat. “Define ‘inordinate.’”
“Do you take care of Allie’s needs before you take care of your own? Do you sacrifice time with other friends to make sure Allie’s needs are met? Do you spend the time you’re apart from Allie worrying about whether she’s OK?”
“I would say no, but I’m sure that would be the wrong response,” I said.
“That’s called co-dependence, Violet.”
I made an indelicate raspberry noise. “I’m not codependent on Allie. In fact, I’ve been really mad at Allie since I got here. I know it won’t last, but for now, I think I’m in a really healthy emotional place where Allie is concerned. That place is anger.”
“Why do you say that it won’t last?”
“I get mad at Allie, because her screw-ups tend to mess up my life royally, but I always forgive her.”
“Why do you always forgive her?”
“Because she needs me. Somebody has to protect her from the decisions she makes. I mean the ‘going to unknown locations with strange guys from the bar’ decisions that alone would be enough to ruin her life.”
“So when does Allie have to be an adult? Why does she get off scot-free? Why do you have to be responsible for yourself and her?” Dr. Mueller asked.
I shrugged. “Because Allie’s never been responsible.”
“But how is she going to learn if you don’t let her?”
My mouth flapped open as I struggled for an answer. Allie would never grow up. She didn’t learn from her mistakes. She just found new and interesting ways to make them. And she never had to learn because I was like that mom who ran after her kid, insisting that she wear a helmet while riding the school bus. I was a helicopter friend.
I sucked as a person and as a friend.
“Well, our time’s up,” Dr. Mueller said, snapping her notebook closed.
“Wait, what?”
“Yes, I think you have enough to think about for our next session.” She snapped her notebook closed and walked out of the office. I stared after her.
“How does she always do that?” I grunted, clenching my fist like Seinfeld.
Chapter 13
Today was the day. I’d finally earned enough C points to earn a facial, body wrap and a hot stone massage. I jumped out of bed, slipped into my “good” yoga pants and practically skipped across the lawn to the spa huts on the back of the property. I even outran Sarah, who was still in the dining room by
the time I reached the backdoor. Evading capture by mental health professionals is a young woman’s game.
The perky brunette spa attendant, Cheryl, was waiting patiently for me at the beaten copper front desk.
“Cheryl, it’s time to exfoliate me. I don’t want to see a single dead skin cell, got it?”
“Understood,” Cheryl agreed. “All of your cells will be brand new. Now, could you calm down a little? Because you are approaching this with a little too much aggressive energy. Don’t make me get the tranquilizing oils.”
“I make no promises.”
‡
I was scrubbed, rubbed, pumiced, and polished from head to toe. I lost track of the rounds of product massaged into my skin or number of treatment rooms I got dragged through, each with a new soothing jewel-like tone meant to put me in a relaxed happy place. I was grateful they were windowless jewel-like rooms, because the salt scrub required total nudity, which was awkward enough with Cheryl being the only one who saw me.
Being a spa bunny was hard work. I felt exhausted as Cheryl led me down the dimly lit hallway to a small warm room with aquamarine walls and more candles than an old Madonna video. That seemed a little excessive, considering the early hour, but Cheryl assured me that the point was the relaxing ylang-ylang and neroli scent of the candles and establishing a “womb-like feeling of security and comfort.” I wasn’t on board with the womb thing, but it was comfortable, and I appreciated the lack of windows when I dropped the robe and crawled under the heated sheets of the padded massage table.
All of the tension just drained out of my body between the constant flow from the fountain in the corner and the soft, warm table.
OK, I sort of got the womb thing now. Cheryl quietly crept into the room, lowered the sheet from my back and went to work, rubbing the knots out. The clinical motion of her hands on my skin, the water music and the warmth made my mind wander. I thought about Cam. I wondered what he was doing, whether he’d devoted any thought to getting back in touch with his parents. I wondered whether he missed me or if he’d come to his senses about getting involved with me. I wondered whether I would be able to leave New Beginnings and never see him again, because that was feeling like less of an option every day.
And then I started thinking about what happened in the barn, and it became really uncomfortable being massaged while thinking those thoughts. So instead, I thought about Allie and how much I missed her. I thought about seeing her in the lobby and how healthy and happy she looked. I thought about her crazy generous heart and how hard she worked to make up for mistakes, once she’d realized she’d made them. I thought about how hard she worked to pull me out of the carefully constructed box my parents built around me, how she forced me to have fun during my college years because “God knows what your parents have planned for you once you graduate, Vi!” I thought about how much I owed her, getting me to this place. I owed her an apology. I owed her an amends.
I closed my eyes and let my mind drift from subject to subject, like a leaf on the wind. And then I woke up and Cheryl was tucking the sheet over my shoulders and I was wiping drool off of my chin.
Cheryl leaned in close, pressing a bottle of water into my hand. “Don’t worry. It happens all the time. You take as long as you need to recover and wake up, OK? I’ll be up front.”
I nodded, curling under the sheet as she closed the door behind her. Would it be rude to take a nap right now? Because I had never been so loose and happy, not even that one time I tried weed. I was so convinced that the police would break down the door any minute that I couldn’t even enjoy being high.
I pressed my face against the heated table. I heard the door open behind me. “Cheryl?” I murmured. “Did you forget something?”
“I would hope I wouldn’t forget something like this,” a husky male voice murmured. A warm hand traveled up my ankle, over my leg and thigh, trailing over my back. “Holy hell!” I bolted up from the table, tucking the sheet around my breasts. “Cam!”
Cam was standing there, grinning at me. “I’m sorry, that was mean.”
Curse his handsome face. It was really hard to stay mad at him when he was smiling at me like that.
“What are you doing in here?” I whispered. “This is a naked place!”
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I haven’t talked to you in a few days.”
“I’ve been busy,” I told him. “Participating in group, making progress. I’ve been a very good girl. And this has nothing to do with you seeing me in the lobby with Jimmy the other day?”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
“What happened to avoiding each other and keeping Nurse Ratchett in the dark?” I asked, flopping back on the table.
“One of the patients may have had a really messy episode in the dining room and Sarah got stuck on clean up duty.”
“So we’re taking advantage of another patient’s mental health issues in order to sneak time in together?”
He shook his head. “Not really. It was Cynda. She had a meltdown when she found out that the creamer she’s been using here has actual calories in it. Omelets were thrown. Bacon got rubbed into Rico, the food service coordinator’s hair. It was really ugly.
“So, I’m proud of you for being a model patient. Hugh’s been thinking about making you Star of the Week,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t do it for you, but thank you. Also, please talk Hugh out of that Star thing. I would feel really guilty accepting it. And I think Cynda would try to take me down.”
“Of course not,” he agreed, ducking his head to give me a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll see you later. Origins and Genesis groups are getting together for a moonlight hike tonight.”
“A bunch of addicts wandering the desert at night? There’s no way that could go wrong.”
He grinned, kissing me quickly again and attempting to stand up. But I grabbed his collar and yanked him back to table level. “Get back down here.”
I laughed against his mouth as he stumbled against the table. He braced his hands on either side of my shoulders, forcing me to push up to a sort of unwieldy topless upward dog yoga position. I dropped the sheet, the cool air hit my bare breasts, and I shivered at the sensation of my nipples going hard. I shivered again, rising to my knees. Cam grabbed the sheet and pulled it tightly around my waist, yanking me closer.
What was it with us and tables?
“Violet,” he grumbled against my lips. “We’re getting close to crossing a line, here.”
“Really?” I bit my swollen lips, grinning up him. “And where is the line?”
He pushed my hair behind my ear, watching the way it sprang right back out of place. “You’ll know it when we get to it.”
I pulled his shirt loose from his jeans and yanked it over his head.
“What about this,” I asked him. “Is this crossing a line?”
“Getting closer.”
I kissed him, teasing his tongue into my mouth, while his hands slid along my oiled skin, settling around my hips. His hands were rough against my buttery smooth skin, slipping and whirling over the oiled surface, unleashing the scent of oranges and flowers.
I palmed his hard dick through his jeans, making his hips stutter against my hand.
“What about this?” I asked, biting gently at his lips. “Is this crossing a line?”
He shook his head, dragging his fingertips around my hips and splaying his right hand over my heated sex. “This is getting closer.”
I licked my lips, groaning when his hand disappeared, reaching toward the side table. He snagged the bottle of orange-scented massage oil and squeezed a small amount into his palm. That hand slid slowly up my thigh, spreading the oil over my lower lips, dipping his fingers inside me. I gripped his shoulders, relaxing against his long, elegant fingers, letting them work their magic.
“Line crossed yet?” I asked as he pushed me on my back. He shook his head and his grin was positively filthy as he continued to work my pussy over, sweepi
ng his thumb over my clit in slippery loops. I cried out as he pulled his hand away, swinging my legs up on the table and yanking me down so my ass rested on the edge.
“Getting there.”
Cam rested my heels against his hips, spreading me open and driving two slick fingers inside. I cried out, banging my head on the table and arching my back. His oiled hand skimmed over my belly, up my ribs and cupped my breasts as they jutted up into the air. All the while, he worked me open, brushing against my sweet spot, making me jump. He leaned closer and closer to my spread thighs, inhaling the sharp, bright scent of oranges mixed with the warm feminine wetness running down my skin. He ghosted his lips over my hipbones, biting ever so slightly.
“This,” he said. “Is crossing the line.”
And he pressed his hot open mouth over my pussy.
I thought I was going to die. Or at least buck up off of the massage table and send us both tumbling to the floor.
I squirmed, not sure if I was trying to get closer to his mouth or further away. Cam looped my legs over his shoulders, giving me no place to escape, no way to hide as his tongue stole along my opening. He pumped his tongue, in and out, fucking me gently as I rolled my hips.
He licked me from bottom to top, pursing his lips around my clit. I whimpered, tangling my fingers through his hair as a dark coil of pressure built in my belly. His fingers trailed from my breasts to my neck, over my lips, reminding me to stay quiet. I sucked one digit into my mouth, tracing the ridges of his skin with my tongue, pulling hard. Because damn it, if Cam ever let me return the favor, I was going to blow his mind.
He traced different shapes against my nub. Letters? Numbers? Morse code? I didn’t really care as long as he kept doing it, working his tongue in tandem with the fingers that thrust inside me. I yanked at his hair, desperate to keep him there. My hips canted, and I could feel everything inside me opening and stretching for the inevitable fall over the cliff into absolute fucking bliss.
I sucked at his fingers, desperate to keep quiet as the orgasm ripped through me. My whole body bowed off of the table, but Cam just kept going, pulling me through the first wave and coaxing me into the next. I was lost, falling, unable to track where one spasm ended and the next began, building to one dizzying, black-out peak that had me biting down on his hand.