“Okay, um, hold on,” Dr. Peters said, holding up her hand.
She was looking at me like I was a calculus problem she had to solve.
“I’m sorry, it’s just—I’m confused?” she said, obviously perplexed by something I’d said.
“What? Did you not read my file?” I hadn’t even gotten to any of the crazy parts; what the hell was up with this lady’s face? She’s a doctor, or psychiatrist, or something; I mean, is she not used to talking to whackjobs?
“Um, well,” she said, looking uneasy, “apparently I missed some things while reviewing your folder. I read your charges from the jail, but, I didn’t realize that he…”
“Was my boyfriend?” I interrupted.
“Right.” She looked nervous, or uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure.
“Yeah, I know. Sounds like something out of a movie, right?” I laughed. I didn’t find my situation funny; it’s just that suddenly I felt really awkward. I mean, what are you supposed to say at this point? OMG I know, I’m a total piece of shit, right? High five.
She stared at me over the rim of her glasses for a moment, and it reminded me of the look my mother used to give me right before she grounded the shit out of me. I think I’m in trouble.
“Should we, I’m sorry, should we stop? Do you want me to stop? Because if you need to like review my file some more or something—”
“No. No, we will keep going. I apologize. I’m just surprised, is all. You can keep going. We will just, um, see how far we get. Okay?” she said, glancing at her watch.
“Okay, so, where should I…um…start from, then?”
“Well, why don’t you tell me what happened that morning when he showed up at your house, after you relapsed?”
“Sure,” I said, leaning back in my seat to get comfortable. I wondered for a moment if I should sugarcoat it. Maybe she wasn’t prepared for this kind of thing, and I certainly didn’t want to overwhelm her. Fuck it, I thought, might as well get it all out in the open so she actually has a shot at fixing whatever’s broken inside my fucked-up head.
The morning Eliot showed up at my house—uninvited, I might add—nothing remarkable happened. He didn’t come in, thankfully, because the place smelled like they were filming Half-Baked 2 in a back room somewhere.
He had just stopped by to bring me a coffee, and we chatted for a bit and he left. As I watched his taillights fade from view, I felt a pang of guilt. He looked so happy today. How the hell was I supposed to tell him I relapsed and break his heart? This was going to be harder than I thought.
He was the kindest man I’d ever met and I suddenly felt terrible that he fell for a piece of shit like me. He deserved so much better.
I called off work because I knew there was no fucking way I could be nice to strangers when my world was crumbling around me. It was not an ideal day to call off either, as I’d just received a promotion and was now basically a manager. I was supposed to train to do the end-of-shift deposits, but that shit was not happening.
Instead I spent most of the day lying in bed, smoking weed, and contemplating how I was going to word this breakup.
Hey, babe, remember how I told you I used to be addicted to drugs? Well, surprise! Shit—no, that wasn’t good.
Hi, honey, quick question, on a scale of one to ten, guess who relapsed last night? Son of a bitch.
Sweetie, hey, remember how you told me how amazing I was and how you thought you were falling in love with me? Well, I snorted a bunch of drugs last night while you were out protecting the community because I’m a fucking loser and I’m sorry, but we can’t be together. Sounds about right.
I grabbed my phone and decided to call my best friend, Kayla. She was the one who drove me to rehab. Well, technically, I drove and she was in the passenger seat crushing pills and lining them up for me so I didn’t have to take my hands off the steering wheel.
We got addicted to pills together and hadn’t really hung out much since I’d gotten out of rehab; she was still using and it was hard for me to be around it. So I’d kept my distance up until this point.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey?”
“What’s up?”
“Um, nothing, what’s wrong?” We had a really close bond; she could tell from my voice something was wrong.
“I fucked up.”
“Shut up.”
“Swear.”
“Tiffany.”
“I know.”
“I’m on my way.”
Now you would think she was coming over to give me a shoulder to cry on, maybe give me some words of encouragement, but when I hung up that phone, we both knew why she was coming.
We spent the next two hours snorting lines and smoking cigarettes.
I told her what had happened and she laughed and shook her head at my predicament. I mean, I was in a fucking relationship with a friggin’ deputy for Christ’s sake, one who was about to be dumped by his junkie girlfriend. What the hell was wrong with me?
“I’m doing him a favor, really,” I said as I licked the remaining powder off the card I’d used to crush my pill. “I mean, it’s better that he knows now rather than later. Honestly, like, I think part of the reason I relapsed also was like, the pressure, you know? Of dating a cop?”
Kayla nodded in slow motion, through squinted eyes. I knew she wasn’t comprehending a word I’d said, but it felt good to process my thoughts. I’d decided to get good and high before meeting up with Eliot. It was going to be an incredibly difficult conversation and I needed to take the edge off.
“I’m done after tonight anyway,” I said, scratching an invisible itch on my arm. “I can’t get addicted again, but I’m still gonna end it with him because I feel like I’m only gonna hurt him mo—”
Before I could finish my sentence, a thick stream of vomit spewed from my face like a water hose, landing all over my pants and Brandon’s suede couch.
“What…the fuck?” Kayla said, suddenly wide-awake. “Are you okay?”
I couldn’t stop. Wave after wave of nausea rose up from my belly and I lurched forward, attempting to miss the couch. I choked and gagged on my vomit, and midhurl I heard the front door slam shut.
“Jesus Christ.”
Brandon was home.
“What the hell, Kayla?”
“It’s not me! I didn’t do anything! She just, she’s not feeling good.”
“Bullshit. You gotta go, now,” Brandon said with authority.
“Oh my God, whatever.” I felt her weight leave the couch as she stood up to leave. “Call me later, Tiff, I hope you feel better. And you are an asshole, Brandon, I had nothing to do with this,” she said, slamming the door behind her.
“Tiff,” Brandon said, placing his hand on my back, “I told you that you didn’t need to be hanging out with her anymore, now look at you.”
I leaned back into the couch and took a deep breath, wiping the puke from my mouth. I turned my head to face Brandon and tears started falling. “I know, I didn’t want to do it, I’ve been doing so good. But she just pulled the pills out in front of me. When she asked if I wanted some, I couldn’t say no.” I forced out a couple of sobs, and I knew when he shook his head in disappointment that he was buying it.
“Damn it, man. What are you gonna do about Eliot?”
“He gets off in a few hours. I’m gonna shower and then head over there to break the news. I can’t believe this happened. I should have known when she asked to stop by that it was a bad idea. I just missed her, ya know?”
“I know, Tiff, this isn’t your fault, she should have known better. I’m sorry this happened,” he said, patting my back sympathetically.
As I took one last look at myself in the mirror before heading to Eliot’s, I couldn’t help but feel disgusted about the person I’d become.
I used to be a happy kid.
I used to be captain of the cheerleading squad.
I was voted class clown and Valentine Queen at my high school dance—and now I’m a twenty-three-year-old junkie piece of shit with nothing to show for my life. My mom is gone, my sister won’t talk to me, and my dad—who the hell knows what’s going on with my dad.
I had pulled my car over on the way to Eliot’s to do a line. I felt like if I didn’t have something to calm my nerves I wouldn’t have the guts to go. I was going to tell him I was high anyway, so it didn’t matter if he noticed.
The walk up to his front door was the most terrifying thirty seconds of my life. I almost turned around twice and my heart felt like it might die from pumping too hard and too fast.
My eyes were swollen from the tears, and the disappointment made my whole body feel twenty pounds heavier.
I took a deep, deliberate breath and quickly hit the doorbell before I could change my mind. I heard footsteps and things clamoring behind the door as my heart pounded even faster. Here we go, moment of truth.
I heard the metal click as the door was unlocked from the inside, and as the door swung open I was hit in the face with something—silly string? It all happened in slow motion.
His dad and mom off to the side smiling, his brother laughing, and his brother’s wife clapping excitedly. There were ten other people standing behind Eliot, but I couldn’t process who they were. Music suddenly started blaring and simultaneously everyone screamed:
“Surprise!”
I stared in stunned silence and realized the house was adorned with balloons and streamers. Eliot reached out for my hand, but I was frozen. He laughed as he pulled me close and placed his lips next to my ear, and my jaw dropped in horror when he whispered, “Congratulations on your promotion, babe, this accomplishment is worthy of a celebration. We are so proud of you!”