by Britt Morgan
“I can’t.”
“It’s worse than I thought,” Jay said, to himself. “Are you going to puke?”
“Probably,” I said. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the queasiness hit me again, more severe this time. I jumped to my feet and raced to the closest outlet—Jay’s kitchen sink. Dropping my head over the counter, I heaved, vomiting bitter tasting bile. At the front door, someone knocked—probably the pizza guy. I listened to Jay make the transaction, my head swimming. As he brought it back to the coffee table, juggling the pizza and a container of bread-sticks, I caught a whiff of the food and puked again.
“Khloe?” Jay said. “Are you okay? Can I do something?”
“No.” I turned on the kitchen sink and splashed some icy water on my face. The headache was starting to intensify, and the smell of food was only making it worse. “I’m okay.”
“You should try to eat something,” Jay said. He leaned against the kitchen wall, arms folded, watching me as I sank to the floor with my head in my hands. “I know you think it won’t help, but it will.” He held his hand out to me to help me up. I took it, comforted by the warmth of his skin against mine. Jay led me back to the couch and I sat down, drawing the blanket over my lap to keep the chills away. He sat down next to me and opened the pizza box, shooting me a pointed look.
“Fine,” I grumbled. I reached for a slice of pizza, determined to try to choke something down, when I noticed Jay watching me. I glanced at him, and then back down, suddenly feeling irritated.
“What?” I snapped.
“You’re shaking,” Jay said. I looked back down, noticing that my hand was—indeed—trembling. I dropped the pizza back into the box and withdrew my arm.
“This can’t be happening.” I held my hand back up in front of me, trying to focus enough to calm the tremble. It didn’t help, only seemed to get worse. “It won’t stop…” Panic rose in my throat, a moment of terror. I cradled my hand against my chest, feeling my heart thump against my rib cage.
“This is part of the withdrawal process,” Jay said. “And it’s going to suck, but it’ll pass.”
I rested my head back against the couch, fighting nausea, wishing I had something—anything—to help me get through this. But even then, I knew that anything that could help me through this was exactly what I didn’t need.
“Maybe it was a mistake coming here,” I said. My tone quivered. On the coffee table, my cell phone rang again. Both Jay and I looked over.
“It’s Jesse again,” Jay said. My heart rate quickened, and for a second, I wondered if I could convince Jesse to come and pick me up before I was too far into this process.
“He’ll keep calling,” I said finally.
“Will he?”
“Yes.” I watched as Jay reached for the phone and flipped it open. For a moment, I considered plucking it from his hand, but I resisted, knowing that he would probably win that kind of tug-of-war.
“Jesse?” he said into the phone. “My name is Jay; I’m a friend of Khloe’s.” There was a pause, and then, “I can’t have you calling her anymore tonight. In fact, I would prefer it if you didn’t call her ever again.” He looked at me, as if waiting for an objection, but I didn’t have the energy to care. Even when I opened my mouth to argue, nothing came out. Jay said something I didn’t catch on the phone and then closed it.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Sorry?” Jay repeated. “Sorry for what?”
“Everything.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jay set the cell phone back down onto the table and turned to face me. “You are doing everything right by coming here, Khloe. No one should ever apologize for that.”
“I’m not your responsibility,” I told him. “You barely know me. I’m some kid who used to be friends with your ex. You owe me nothing.” Jay sighed, but it was not with anger. Instead, he smiled weakly at me.
“When I was caught in this mess—the same one you’re in now—I was in a constant battle against myself,” he said. “If all my friends had decided all at once that I wasn’t worth it, and that they were willing to turn their back when things got tough, I wouldn’t be here today. It was the few people who stood by my side when I was at my worst that I owe my life to.” He paused, taking a breath. “If I turned my back on you, I could never forgive myself if you fell back into this because no one ever told you not to. You may not care about yourself right now, Khloe, but you need to understand that everyone else does—me and Ava especially.”
“If someone gets themselves into a mess like this, then why should it be someone else’s burden to bear?” I asked him. “Why would someone want to hold another person up?”
“Because a person doesn’t need to be held up forever,” Jay said. He took my hands and squeezed them. “All they really need is a shoulder to lean on until their own legs are strong enough.”
* * *
It was five minutes to midnight when things deteriorated even further. My head screamed with pain, hands still shaking. My legs trembled, and it took great effort to walk from one side of the room to the other without falling down. Sweat leaked from every pore, but it wasn’t from being too warm. One moment I was freezing cold, as though I’d been standing in a walk-in freezer, and the next second I was having hot flushes; miserable, nauseating moments of physical despair.
“I can’t do this.” I made a swift attempt to side-pass him, but Jay was quicker. He stepped in front of the door, his hands up as if prepared for me to take a swing at him. “Don’t do that,” I said. My voice was trembling, but the anger was threatening to explode. “I need to get out of here. I changed my mind, Jay. I don’t want to do this.” As the words left my mouth, another wave of nausea rolled over me. I rushed for the kitchen sink again, just in time to lean over and vomit. Bile stung my tongue, sour and bitter. Jay kept his position in front of the door, watching me. I heaved again, but nothing came up, only a bit of water. My ribs hurt from coughing and my throat was starting to swell. Sobbing, I slid to the floor.
“Take a few breaths, Khloe,” Jay said. “Relax.”
“Please,” I begged. “Please just let me out of here.” My head throbbed. It was a pounding so intense I was sure someone was living inside my skull, bashing on my brain with a mallet. I put my chin down and clutched my hair in my hands, squeezing, trying to breathe through the pain. Had I ripped every follicle of hair from my head on-by-one, it still wouldn’t have amounted to the pain the migraine was attacking me with. “Jay,” I cried. “Please let me out of here!”
I clambered to my feet again, unsteady, trying in vain to support myself on the walls and counter tops. I made another unsuccessful attempt to get through the door. My vision was blurry as I lunged at him, kicking and screaming. He caught me in a tight embrace, his arms around my midsection. I struggled against him, shrieking something that not even I could make out. Jay murmured something in my ear as he held me, but I couldn’t focus on him or his words.
“I have to go!” I screamed. “I’m leaving, Jay, and you can’t stop me god dammit! Leave me the fuck alone!”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and Jay, still holding onto me, reached forward and opened it.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” I cried, spinning around to face our visitor. Ty came through the door, turning his back to me as he shut it behind him and clicked the deadbolt back into place.
“I’m sorry, Khloe,” Jay said. “I figured he could help.” He released me then, and I was just about to reel my arm back to hit him when Ty stepped between Jay and me, catching my wrists in his hands. Another wave of nausea hit me, and I doubled over, still being held by Ty, and puked up yellow bile all over Jay’s spotless carpet.
“I’m so sorry.” I fell to my knees, crying, shaking, unable to catch my breath. My chest felt like someone was squeezing the air from it, stealing every precious breath away from me. The more I struggled to breathe, the harder it was to get any air. The pounding in my head intens
ified. I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering if this would actually kill me. Right then, death sounded like the better option.
“Hang in there, babe,” Jay said softly. I watched him lean back against the door, exhausted as he watched me.
“I need to get out,” I whispered. “I just need to get out.” I looked desperately between them, fingers numb with cold, sweat sticking to the back of my neck and under my hair. Ty sat down on the floor next to me. He reached out, wrapping his arms around my body. For a second, I fought him, I yelled, I pushed him away. But when he didn’t let go, I finally allowed myself to fall into him, shaking, freezing cold, and boiling hot all at the same time.
“I’m sorry, Khloe,” he said. He pulled me against him and kissed my forehead. His cool hands brushed the sticky, wet hair back from my face. I leaned over Jay’s living-room waste basket to throw up but could only gag and dry heave. There was nothing left in my stomach.
“Please just kill me.” Tears slipped from my eyes, soaking my skin with moisture. I liked my dry, cracked lips and buried my tear-soaked face into the front of Ty’s shirt. He rested his chin on the top of my head and said nothing. My ears rang, face and hands now numb and tingly, as if my body was trying to fall asleep. I closed my eyes and forced myself to listen to Ty’s heartbeat against my skin. “Still want to be with me?” I asked weakly. “Even after all of this?”
“Every moment of every day,” Ty said, and he looked down at me, his eyes meeting my own as he started to rock. I closed my eyes again, exhausted, hurting, sick. I let him hold me as the pain faded and the world began to put itself back together—little by little—piece by piece, until the glowing light somewhere miles ahead in the darkness of the tunnel began to shine.
Chapter 29
I was dead, and this was hell.
Sitting up, I put my hand to my head, trying to cool the overwhelming sensation of death warmed over. It was daylight. I was on Jay’s couch, covered by an enormous, fluffy comforter. I had no idea what time it was, but the condo was silent. Well, almost silent. In the bedroom down the hall, I could hear Jay snoring. He was loud enough to wake the dead. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to clear my head and piece the night together. I was sober, and yet I felt like I’d been drinking and shooting up all night long.
I took a deep breath to steady myself and swung my legs towards the floor, meeting what I could only assume was somebody’s face.
“Ouch,” Ty mumbled. He covered his eyes with one arm but didn’t budge from his spot on the floor. I stared down at him, shocked. I’d almost forgotten that he had come last night and held me until I’d passed out.
“Sorry.” My words scratched their way out my raw throat. Ty lifted his arm from his eyes and kicked off his own blanket as he sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Even here, dressed in sweats and a tee shirt with a look of utter exhaustion sketched into his features, he was beautiful. Kind. Loving.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. I thought about it for a moment, deep within the trenches of a pounding migraine and an upset stomach.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Why are you here?”
“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” Ty said. “Please, don’t make me blush.” He stood and started folding the blankets Jay had lent him. “I’m here because I care about you,” he said. “I’m here because I want to be here, Khloe.”
“Why would anyone want this?” I pushed myself to my feet, nearly face planting on Jay’s living room floor. Ty steadied me, and for a moment I was sure I would blow chunks all over him. “Taking care of me is not your job, Ty.” I took a deep breath. “As you can see, I can barely take care of myself.”
My feet and legs quivered as I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Ty followed, probably to make sure I wouldn’t fall and split my head open. I wanted to ditch this place so badly—I wanted to sneak down to the liquor store for a cheap bottle of vodka and then I wanted to go home and drink it all. But I didn’t. Instead, I poured a glass of water and chugged it down, figuring that if the dry heaves continued, water would at least give me something to throw up.
“Hi, doll.” Jay poked his head into the kitchen, smiling. His dark hair was messy and unkempt, eyes tired as he greeted me. When he saw that Ty was still there, though, he perked up at once. It was all I could do not to surrender to a fit of giggles, despite the nightmare I was in the middle of. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m not sure you want to hear the answer,” I admitted. Jay smiled and went to the fridge to pour himself some orange juice. Ty, I noticed, was already searching the cupboards for food.
“You look better,” Jay said.
“She really does, doesn’t she?” Ty asked. He smiled at me, but I didn’t have the energy to smile back.
“Well I’m glad I look it, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t feel it.” I set the glass down on the counter. My hands were still shaking, but not as severely as the night before. I was still craving a drink; still wishing I had a hit of something—anything—that could soothe my nerves.
“I’m proud of you,” Jay said. “You suffered through it, Khloe. You’re on the right track.” I put my hand to my head, exhausted, unsure if I wanted to hug him or punch him in the face-—it was changing by the second.
“Then why in the hell does this feel so wrong?” My voice broke. Ty stopped rummaging for a moment and turned towards me. He rested his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to face him.
“The right things always do,” he said. “It will get better. I promise.” I rested my forehead against his chest, feeling the tears press against my eyes.
“Thank you for being here,” I said, and looked over at Jay. “Both of you.”
I pulled away from Ty and refilled my water glass. My stomach was in knots, and water spilled over the top of my glass as my hands shook. Jay and Ty sipped their own drinks and watched me, but their expressions were neutral and hard to read. I rinsed out my cup in the sink and ran my hand through my hair. My mouth tasted bad, of vomit and old booze from the night before.
“Do I get to go home now?” I asked. I was afraid to hear the answer. I wanted to go home—I wanted to go home so badly. I need a hot shower, a change of clothes, and something decent to eat. And yet, at the same time, I was terrified to go—not confident that I could be by myself and still be okay.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jay said after a long silence. “Do you think it’s going to be as easy as that?”
“That’s your definition of easy?” I felt compelled once again to punch him on the nose, but I resisted the urge. I knew he was only trying to help, and I would do good to push away the only friend I had left who wasn’t an addict. On the coffee table, my phone started to ring. I crossed the floor to answer it, not caring who it was. I needed the distraction.
“Khloe?” It was Ava.
“Hey,” I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder, throwing clothes into a bag so I could go home. If Jay was giving me that option, I would take it—and Ty didn’t have a say one way or the other. I was strong. I could do it. “What’s up?”
“I was released,” Ava said. “Just now.” She sounded distracted, as though she’d hesitated even calling me.
“From the hospital?”
“No, Khloe, from the fiery gates of hell.”
“Okay.” I straightened up and looked at Ty. He was still watching me, his expression void of emotion. He was good. I wished I knew what he was thinking. Jay had already moved on to the breakfast cereal, and I knew he had to be to work in just a few hours.
“I need a ride,” Ava said. “I don’t have anyone to come and get me.” I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced at the time.
“Give me fifteen minutes,” I said. “I’ll pick you up.” I had barely hung up the phone before Ty was by my side, retrieving his car keys from his pocket.
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
“No, it’s alright,” I argued. “I’m fine to drive.”
“Either
Ty goes with you, or you stay here,” Jay called from the kitchen. Scowling, I shrugged on my jacket and gave Ty a half-hearted shrug. He was now my crutch when Jay couldn’t be—I knew I couldn’t do it without them, even if I wanted to. My legs weren’t strong enough.
Not yet.
Chapter 30
“Why is he here?” Ava poked her head into the passenger’s side window and glared at Ty. Then she glared at me. “Really, Khloe?”
“He’s helping,” I said. Ty leaned over me and flashed Ava a smile.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m helping.”
Rolling her eyes, Ava slid into the back seat of Ty’s car, arms folded in a pout. As I turned around to greet her, I was pleasantly surprised to notice how much better she looked since the night she’d been admitted. Her black hair was down around her shoulders, and it shined with a healthy glow. Her skin had cleared up, eyes vivid and bright instead of bloodshot. She had gained a bit of weight, but she looked healthier. Better.
“You look really good,” I said. “The hospital stay helped.”
“Yeah, well, I feel like shit.” She looked pointedly at Ty when she said that, as if laying blame on the paramedic who’d had to bring her in. “I need a fucking drink.”
“No, you don’t,” I said, and she glared at me next.
“I need a drink and a hit,” she said. In the seat next to me, Ty’s expression didn’t change, but I could see his hands tense up over the wheel. The scene from last night played over in my head: the pain, the terror, the vomiting in the kitchen sink and all over Jay’s rug. I suddenly felt sick all over again.
“Ava.” I took a deep breath, praying I wouldn’t cause a fight. I didn’t have the energy to fight with her—not today. “Do you think it’s a good idea to get back on drugs and booze?” I asked. My friend looked at me, her eyebrows shooting straight up as if I’d just sprouted two heads.