24
David
Iwake up in the hospital, dope sick as all get out. A nurse comes over to check my vitals.
“Oh, you're awake,” she says.
“Where am I?”
“You're in the hospital. Do you know what happened?”
I look at the skin of my arms and bare chest. “I don't think I was in an accident or anything like that.” I spot the fresh track mark on my arm, and my body tenses. I look up at the nurse, her lips taut with disapproval.
“Did I—”
“Yes, you overdosed. From what we gathered, some girl found you and gave you CPR. You completely stopped breathing. They got you back, and here you are.”
“Emily. Oh god, Emily,” I whisper.
I feel shaky, shitty, and sober for the first time in a long time. My chest is bruised to a deep purple and yellow, concentrated between my ribcage. I pull the nasal cannula out of my nose and let it fall to the floor.
“I need to get out of here. I need to call Emily.”
“No, dear. You need to stay and get better. You came this close to dying.” She pinches her fingers together. “You’re in no condition to leave right now.”
I purse my lips in defeat and lie back as ordered. They give me more drugs to combat the terrible withdrawal. Ironic, isn’t it? Despite the medications, my abdomen is tense and taut, as if someone is squeezing it. When I’m not vomiting, I’m shitting myself. I pray Emily will visit, but I'm also glad she can’t see me like this. I vow to quit and make a better life for myself. For us.
It took nearly dying to realize just how much Emily means to me. I knew I loved her, but I didn’t realize what that meant. It doesn’t matter, though. She has her own life now. I’m not a part of her new chapter. I tuck those feelings as deep down as I can and hope they remain buried.
* * *
Emily
When I foundout David pulled through, there was a flood of emotions. I was angry that he was doing heroin. I was happy he was alive. I was sad he was hurting so badly that I nearly lost him forever. I still can’t get the images out of my head of him lying lifeless on the floor. I feel panicked when I think about it. A feeling like that stays with you, lurking within the cells of your brain, ready to leap out and drag you back into the memory.
Kevin continues to bring it up, as though it solidifies for him just how bad David is for me. I know he is. We are bad for each other. If I hadn’t gotten him into opiates, would his path have ended up here?
I knock on our old apartment door. My heart races, my cheeks flush, and I feel like I’m meeting him for the first time. Maybe I am. I don’t know what to expect or who will be behind that door. I expect to see a stranger's face. Did the old David leave when he took his last breath in front of me? Maybe that would be for the best.
David opens the door and offers a weak smile. I look into his beautiful gray eyes. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight against his chest. I can hear his heartbeat now. I take a deep breath for the first time in weeks. I had to hear the music of him to believe it for myself.
The moment I feel his arms around me, I’m reminded of our familiarity and how his touch is the greatest high. He intoxicates me. Tears flood my eyes, overflowing onto my cheeks unchecked. I look up at him. He’s crying as well.
I stand back to take him all in. He looks so handsome. And sober. I’m not sure I’ve seen him sober in a very long time. He leans into me and kisses me, but I push him away, almost knocking him over.
“I cannot believe you did that to me.”
“Emily, I’m so sorry—”
“Apologies don’t mean anything, David. Heroin? Fucking heroin? Everything else was bad enough. I can’t keep doing this! I can’t keep worrying that you’re going to OD again. What if I don’t find you fast enough next time?”
I shudder at the thought of holding him, cold and lifeless in my arms, the color drained from him. I gaze up at him with flooded eyes. He looks back with a gaze that burns a hole through me.
I leave him in the doorway as I raid his usual spots for drugs inside the apartment. I open a DVD case and find small dime bags with different pills. In his pillowcase, I find little baggies of heroin. I pull out an old pair of shoes from his closet and find a pack of syringes.
I return to the living room and lay everything in front of him on the floor. He looks like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He pulls his hair back into a ponytail and rises to his feet.
“I didn’t even know all of that was in there.” He tries to force a laugh, brushing his hair back with his hand.
I don’t find it funny.
* * *
David
“I’m sorry, okay?”I scream at her as I pick the drugs and syringes off the floor and walk toward the bathroom. I toss the drugs into the toilet and flush them. “I can't stand hurting you.”
She sits on the couch, staring ahead with a blank expression. For once, I can’t read her body language or discern what she’s thinking. Is she done with me for good? Did I sever our bond? If so, I wish they hadn’t brought me back.
“A world without you in it isn't worth living for me,” I whisper, almost inaudibly.
I didn't mean to say it out loud. It sounds weak.
I sit on the couch and pull her onto my lap, holding her close despite her protests. She gives up and relaxes into me with an exhausted sigh.
I’ve hurt every person that has come into my life. I have even hurt her. I would understand if she never spoke to me again, but I don’t know if I could go on without her. That sounds pathetic, but there is no life that I remember without her in it. I would lose my best friend and my family, all in one stroke. She is all I have.
This dependency is why I can’t discern my true feelings for Emily. If we weren’t so interwoven in each other's lives, what would my feelings be? My body has wanted her for years. My head tells me to never cross that line. We are at a crossroads.
* * *