Twenty-two days. I wasn't detoxing anymore. I was clean. Obviously, not as clean as I had been before I'd ever done dope, but as clean as it was possible to be as a former druggie.
That's right. Former. I'd kicked it. Was it too early to start calling m
yself recovered?
I felt recovered. I was writing music again. I felt stronger. I was waking up earlier; I mean, shit, I'd been up before nine almost every day the past two weeks. Everything was great. It was like I was on drugs again, but I wasn't. I was clean. The dope had put this weird fog over everything and now that it was gone, I felt like I had never noticed how beautiful everything around me was.
I swear to God, it was like someone had put a new coat of paint over the entire world. It was new and bright and I fucking loved it. I felt great. I wanted to do things again, things that didn’t involve getting loaded and passing out. I felt like I could finally think. My mind wasn't zapped, doped up, and cloudy.
I was on vacation, in paradise, and I was off the drugs. Whether I had known it or not, it was like the drugs had been my biggest problem, and now I didn't have it anymore. It was perfect.
Mostly perfect.
I had been sober when I had told Abby that I didn't want to see her again and I knew that I had not imagined the look on her face when she left.
The last thing I had told her to do was shut up and leave me alone. I had wanted her to leave, and it had worked.
That was a lie.
I had wanted to make myself feel better about the fact that I was going to leave. I did want her to stay. I wanted to share this with her. I wanted us to hang out without thinking about when I could get my next fix and her not having to worry about whether I was feeling sick.
Was there a better way to let someone know you didn't want them than just straight up telling them? Even if it was a lie?
I had been avoiding the front lobby like the plague. I wanted to see her, so fucking bad. I wanted her in my bed again. I wanted to fuck her, but I'd want that when I was back in LA, too, and this vacation was over. I wasn't here to start again; my life was in LA and I was going back to it. This was her life. She was staying here.
I couldn't see her, but that hadn't meant that I'd gone into hiding for the past two weeks. It was hard to get around the hotel without going through the lobby, but I had managed to go back to the Garden of the Gods a few more times.
Abby had mentioned that I had to see it at sunset, and she had been right. It was like entering another dimension when I was there. The rocks looked like they glowed in the light of the sunset. It was amazing.
It also maybe helped me feel a little closer to her since I couldn't actually be close to her. There was that, I guess. I felt a little nostalgic about it. I remember feeling like I wanted to kill her that first day she forced me out of my suite to go there, but now, I remembered it sort of fondly.
It was morning, but I wanted to leave the suite. If I took the stairs instead of the elevator, then I wouldn't go by the front lobby. Being in my suite alone all the time wasn't that appealing anymore. I walked towards the bar because if I was hanging out with anyone, it might as well be a familiar face.
It was early, so Keno was there by himself. He was wiping a glass when he saw me.
"Hey, Keno," I said first.
"Nate, it's been awhile. I thought you went home, brother," he said.
"I'm here all summer."
"You look different," he said.
"I've been making some healthier choices lately," I said, smirking.
"You're not drinking today?" he asked. I shook my head. I didn't need it. I felt good.
"How have you been?" I asked him.
"Good. Busy. That's how it is every summer when you guys come to the islands."
"I bet you can't wait for us all to go back where we came from."
"As long as you buy a lot of drinks before you go," he joked. I laughed.
"It’s easy to forget I don't actually live here," I admitted.
"Not looking forward to going back?" he asked. Wasn’t that the fucking truth?