I grimaced. His words were like an icy knife to the heart. “You’re using.” I couldn’t do anything more than repeat the words, trying to make sense of it. I knew Brent was smoking, that he was drinking too much, that he was dealing. But using heroin was another thing entirely.
He looked like he wanted to fight some more, like he was going to shout at me, but then he collapsed, as though he were a marionette whose strings had been cut. And what’s more, he started weeping.
“Trethan, man, it’s so hard,” he said, his voice a ragged whisper. “You know I swore I was never going to do this. We all did when we got into dealing, but I’m hooked, man. I’ve tried so hard to get off it, so fucking hard, but I have no willpower, you know? I just can’t help myself. I want to stop. I know I need to stop. My mom would die if she knew. I’m just like my piece of shit dad. But I don’t know how to stop.”
I knelt down next to him, slowly reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder, worried that I would startle him. “It’s okay,” I said softly, not knowing what else to say. This wasn’t the kind of situation you learned how to handle in school, and it was worlds away from my own collapse. I’d been hospitalized, which made admitting my problem so much easier. It had put me into a sterile environment. This was different.
“It’s okay,” I said again, my voice firmer this time. “We’re going to get you help, okay? I still have all the pamphlets, all the information about ODing and everything else. We’re going to take you over to the clinic tomorrow. You’re going to stay here tonight, and we’re just going to chill out and play some video games, just like old times. And then tomorrow, I’m going to drive you over to the clinic, and we’re going to get you all checked in. They’re going to help you get clean again. Okay?”
Brent still wept. He brushed away every tear, defiantly trying to hide the fact that he was here, hitting rock bottom right in front of me. It broke my heart to see him this way.
My mind whirled. I didn’t know how I missed the signs. I should have noticed this sooner. I had experience with these sorts of things, didn’t I? Not that I’d ever done heroin, but I’d hit rock bottom before. I should have noticed what was going on with him.
Had I been so wrapped up in the thing with Vanessa that I’d totally ignored my best friend’s needs?
That question made me feel worse than anything else. It wasn’t the drinking and the fighting and all those ways in which I resembled my father. It wasn’t the fact that I had fucked things up with Vanessa, that I had taken what had been meant to be a special night and turned it into something that ended our relationship. It was the fact that I’d been so caught up in my own life that I hadn’t even noticed Brent was suffering. It was the fact that I’d blown him off time and time again when he must have been desperate for a friend.
I sat back on my heels and pressed my hands into my eyes, hard enough to send bright swirls of color skittering across the back of my eyelids. “We’re going to get you help,” I said again. This time, Brent nodded as though he believed it, as though I’d given him any reason to think he could trust me.
I climbed to my feet and offered Brent a hand up.
Chapter Sixteen
Vanessa
The week and a half leading up to the Fourth seemed to pass in no time at all, no doubt because I was busy contacting artists to find out if anyone was even interested in being featured in a gallery dedicated to local artwork. I found a surprising amount of interest in the local community, but I still needed to figure out a way to come up with the funding so I could get my idea off the ground. I tried going back to the bank to plead with them. I showed them how many local artists were interested in having their work displayed, but the bank insisted that without any sort of collateral, they couldn’t give me a loan.
The day of the Fourth seemed to drag on. I started to wonder why Trethan and I had scheduled our picnic for so late in the day. I was impatient, wanting it to be time for him to pick me up already.
“What’s gotten into you?” Dad asked as I bustled around the kitchen, cleaning the counter for what must have been the third time that morning.
I shrugged, looking around. “It’s been a while since I cleaned in here,” I said, as though that explained things.
Dad leveled me with a look that told me he was entirely unconvinced by that statement, but he didn’t ask me again, for which I was grateful.
I hadn’t told him I was meeting Trethan for a picnic. I’d had to tell him I had plans, of course, but I’d just told him I was meeting up with some friends. It wasn’t really a lie, either. I planned to meet Trethan for a late lunch, and then we were probably going to meet up with some other people later in the day for fireworks.
I just wasn’t sure how Dad would feel about it if I told him I was dating Trethan again. Not that I was really dating Trethan again. We were just going on a date. That was all.
At least for now.
I answered my phone when it rang, distracted enough that I didn’t even glance at the caller ID as I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hey, Vanessa,” Trethan said. “Look, I know we were suppos
ed to meet up today, but something’s come up.”
I blinked and actually pulled the phone away from my ear for a minute, staring at it. I could hardly believe what I’d just heard. Surely, he was joking? “Ha ha,” I said flatly, rolling my eyes. “Is this your way of saying that you’re on your way?”
“No, I really can’t come,” he said, sounding distracted.
I frowned. Memories of the night before I’d gone to college flitted back through my mind. “You’re blitzed,” I accused. “At least you’ve learned your lesson not to show up to see me like that, but seriously, Trethan? You couldn’t lay off the booze for one day?”
“Is that really what you think of me?” he snapped, sounding a lot more present.
“It’s not like you’ve given me any reason to think otherwise,” I spat. “You keep telling me how much you’ve changed, but all I’m seeing is the same flake you used to be. I don’t know who you think you’re kidding, but it sure as heck isn’t me.”
There was a long silence. “Sure, Vanessa, whatever you want to think,” he finally said, sounding resigned. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, okay?”