Twenty-eight

Harry had texted me a few times last night. He wanted to hang out. The sad part is, I wanted to hang out, too. Yes, my relationship with Harry had taken a dark turn, but before that there was understanding and laughter, and an escape. I so wanted to feel that escape again. But that progress report had scared the hell out of me, and since my friends had tried so hard to fix my life, I had to at least try their plan. And that meant saying no to Mr. Spike.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail, stuck on jeans, heeled knee-high black boots, and a comfy oversized ivory sweater with a thick, dark green scarf. It may be spring, but it still felt like winter. I sort of needed to see spring, to see the flowers return. It felt like I had been looking at ice and dead trees for years. It was depressing. I needed to see green and fresh buds on trees. I needed to see life, the return of warmer weather. And deep down, I hoped something else would return to me as well.

Brit and I didn’t talk too much as she drove me to my meeting. I wasn’t sure what I had expected. Maybe everyone in a circle saying how they had used. I expected to hear horror stories of people sleeping on the streets and sucking dick for their next hit. I almost hoped there would be aluminum chairs and cheap coffee all served in a church basement with the crucified Christ looking over us, practically screaming how he had real problems and didn't need to listen to their complaints.

Nope. That was the opposite of where Brit had taken me. The waiting room was sterile, a few rose fabric-covered chairs and a table with an assortment of magazines. There was a desk in the corner where the assistant sat. She flashed us a perfect smile and got up to greet us. Elton John’s Tiny Dancer played softly over the speakers. The assistant took my name and offered for Brit to sit in the waiting room, but I grabbed her wrist. “Oh hell no. You are so sitting next to me on that couch.”

“I don’t think I can. It’s supposed to be a personal experience,” she whispered back.

“Can she come in, too?” I looked hopefully at the assistant.

“Depends. Is she family?”

“Yes, she’s my sister.” Technically, I wasn’t lying.

“Then I guess it’s up to you. You might feel inhibited if she’s next to you.”

“I think I’d prefer it.”

“Okay.” The assistant smiled. I guess this was one of those places where they were afraid of chasing customers away, so they agreed whenever it was possible. We sat down and waited, and then I had an alarming thought.

“Brit? How am I paying for this?”

“The first visit is free, since you were referred by the school.”

“How was I referred by the school?”

“I went to our guidance counselors and spoke to them before we spoke to you. They set this up for me.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know how I felt about that. I had always been such a model student, I didn’t want to be the pity case in the faculty room. I guess I had to trust that they would treat her questions as a confessional.

Dr. Rivers opened the door to her office and called me inside. Brit leaned over. “I think you should go in alone. If you need me, I’m right here.”

Well thanks for bailing on me, sis. It was a small room with two couches and a coffee table. There were even fresh flowers. How disappointing.

“Hi, Kristen. I’m Dr. Rivers.” She offered her hand, and I noticed her red nails and huge diamond ring. She was married, and for some reason, that bothered me. I wasn’t sure why. I took it personally. Like she was some stupid informercial. I have the perfect life, and now you can, too…

“Hi,” I said meekly.

“Have a seat.”

I looked longingly at Brit, who remained in her seat. I imagined I had a cocoon lodged in my stomach and at that precise moment, it was cracked opened. But instead of pretty butterflies, I had a belly full of moths, my very core rotting.

Dr. Rivers was smiling, and it seemed sincere enough. She had short brown hair, rosy cheeks, and green eyes. She was probably in her fifties, and I bet thirty years ago she was a fox. Time was a cruel thing.

When the door closed behind us, the room got smaller. Dr. Rivers offered me water, but I declined. She sat down with her iPad in her lap. “So, what would you like to talk about?” she asked.

What would I like to talk about? I had no clue. “My friends wanted me to come here. They thought it would be a good idea.”

“And why is that?”

“Uh, because my life fell to shit three months ago.” I laughed… It was a fake laugh. She knew it, and I knew it.

“What happened?”

“What didn’t happen?”

Dr. Rivers smiled. She didn’t say a word. No, the good doc was just going to wait patiently.

“My boyfriend signed with a record label and went to London to record his album.”

“How exciting!” She smiled broadly, and a row of white teeth gleamed back at me.

“Yeah, it was, but we had a hard time with the long-distance thing, and we broke up.”

“What was hard about it?”

Seriously? That was her question? “I missed him too much. He had a female roommate, and they did a sexy photoshoot together. I lost trust in him when I saw it.”

“Did he cheat on you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you believe he did?”

I had to think about that one. “No. No, I don’t think David would ever cheat on me.” Thoughts of being shirtless and lip locked with Harry began to bombard me, and I had to fight back tears. What had I done? Even if there was still a shot for us, I had set it on fire the moment I crossed the line with Harry.

“Do you feel like you pushed him away to protect yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, with a record deal there is the possibility of fame and fortune. Perhaps you were intimidated by his success.”

“Maybe.” How was this making me feel better? All she was doing was pointing out my insecurities and making me out to be a shit girlfriend. Which I guess I had been.

“Have you tried to reach out to him since you broke up?”

“Yes.”

“And, what happened?” She smiled. Why was she smiling?

“He had his number changed, so that pretty much was a huge ‘we’re over’ neon sign for me.”

She nodded. “Did you end it with him or vice-versa?”

“I ended it.”

Dr. Rivers nodded. “So perhaps he’s trying to respect your wishes. Give you both a new life.”

Maybe I was jaded by romantic comedies and novels. Maybe I had expected David to fly to the United States that night and take me in his arms and kiss me in the rain. And maybe, when he didn’t, maybe I fell apart.

“Before he left, he had given me a promise ring. I think I put a lot of stock in that little silver band. Like it was enough to keep us together.”

She didn’t comment on the ring, which irked me. I thought about mentioning Beast but figured that was just as trivial to her. “So, what else happened, aside from ending things with David?”

I forgot I had mentioned his name, so hearing her say it out loud was jarring. “Before we broke up, I missed him so much I would go to his apartment, just to sort of feel his presence, you know? I’d sleep in his bed and breathe in the remnants of his cologne.”

“Did it help?”

“No, I think it made me more lovesick.” I took a breath. “And that’s when I started spending more time with Harry.”

“Who’s Harry?”

“David’s cousin and roommate.” She jotted that down. Why did she jot that down when she hadn’t written anything else before? Way to bring on the paranoia. For the first time, I was craving a pill. I could actually feel the powder in my nostril and started rubbing my nose, wanting to get high.

“How did Harry make you feel?”

Like I could fly.

“Better. He would try to make me laugh. He held me when I cried and cooked for me. It was nice. He helped take the loneliness out of my life. It gave me a reason to be in David’s apartment without feeling pathetic.” She was tapping away at her iPad again. It was really annoying.

She looked up. “Then what?”

Exactly. Then what? How much do I tell this stranger? Not even Brit knew the whole story. “It was getting difficult to sleep. I missed David too much, and I would cry all the time…”

She just stared at me, and I knew she wouldn’t comment until I had revealed my confession. “Harry offered me sleeping pills.”

“How often did you take the pills?”

“Not often. Two or three times.”

She tapped away on the screen.

“Did you take any other narcotics?”

Narcotics. That was an odd word. I felt like I was on an episode of Law and Order. “Yeah. When David and I ended things, Harry offered me Demerol.”

Dr. Rivers’ brow shot up, but she didn’t comment, only tapped away. “What is Harry’s last name?”

“Why?”

“If he was illegally giving you drugs, he needs to be reported for possession.”

Was she for real? I shot up. “I think we’re done here.” I grabbed my coat and pulled open the door with such force I almost knocked myself out with it. Brit looked up from the waiting room copy of Cosmopolitan.

“Kristen, I think there is more that we should discuss,” Dr. Rivers said.

“Not today.” I gestured for Brit that it was time to go and got the hell out of dodge.

As Brit drove back to the sorority house, I wanted to kick my boot-clad foot straight through her windshield. I knew she had good intentions, but this was horse shit. How dare that doctor put me in that kind of position? I thought that was meant to be a safe zone. It was a stupid set up.

“So… didn’t go well?”

“She wants to have Harry locked up.”

“Wh-what? Why?”

“For possession and dealing, I guess. He shared his prescription with me, Brit. That’s all. I shouldn’t have taken it. That’s on me.”

“I never asked. What were the pills?”

“Demerol.” Brit glanced away from the road and looked at me like I had just spoken in Russian. “Painkillers. Very strong painkillers.” Novocain for the soul…

“Painkillers,” she repeated. “How do you know he has a prescription for that stuff.”

“He told me.” I thought about it but realized he never actually told me he had a prescription. Brit, however, was all over his lie.

“Yes, but how do you know he was telling the truth? I mean, what injury or medical condition does he have that would warrant a prescription like that?”

She had a point. That was the first time I ever questioned where he’d gotten all those magic pills. And I wondered if they were even what he said they were. And suddenly, I understood completely why my friends were so freaked out.

“I don’t even know what Demerol is,” Brit said.

I realized I didn’t either. I only knew what Harry had told me, and I blindly trusted him because I had no reason not to. I pulled out my phone and googled it. Words like addiction, opiate, and toxic appeared.

What the hell had I done? I pulled down the mirror from the passenger visor and took a long hard look. Who the hell was that girl?