“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I don’t know about God. I’m sure he’s there somewhere. Out there. Probably looking down on all of us and wondering why we’re so f**ked up. And if he’s there, I’m sure he forgot about me a long time ago.”
Mila’s breath catches in her throat, I can hear it. And she stops, turning to me, her hand on my arm. She looks up at me, her eyes filled with something that I can’t identify.
“Why would you say that?” she asks quietly.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. There’s something missing in me, Mila. It’s just not there and I’m not sure if it ever was. And I’m pretty sure that God doesn’t mess around with someone like that.”
For some reason, there’s a lump in my throat and I have no idea why. I swallow it and stare down at the delicate, beautiful girl on the beach beside me. Anyone else might have tucked tail and run. But not her. Her feet are planted and her eyes are wide.
She reaches up and touches my chest, then my face.
“You’re wrong,” she tells me softly. “About everything. You don’t see yourself the way I see you. But if you did, you would know that there’s nothing missing in you at all. I think that you’ve always used drugs to block out questions that you’ve had about yourself, or doubt or fear. I’m not sure what all your reasons were. But I know that you’ve got things you’ve never dealt with or thought about, and that’s probably why you feel a void now. But once you discover what it is that you need to deal with, you’ll feel whole again. No more holes, no more voids. That’s what I think.”
My eyes burn as I stare down at this incredibly perceptive woman. I do have a lot of shit that I’ve never bothered to think about. In fact, I went way out of my way to avoid thinking about it. And maybe that was what was most to my detriment—not doing crazy shit, like I thought.
“I think you know me better than you should,” I tell her gruffly. She smiles her delicate smile.
“I don’t know you nearly as well as I’d like to,” she answers, wrapping her arms around my neck. “But I’m going to remedy that.”
And then she kisses me. As she does, everything seems right in the world, like it always does when she’s in my arms. It’s like holding a ray of sunshine. I kiss her until we can’t breathe and when we finally pull away, we take a breath and kiss again.
The stars twinkle overhead, the lake is soundless and calm to our left and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel like I’m home.
Chapter Eleven
I wake up craving coke for the first time in a week.
I don’t know why, because last night was f**king amazing. Mila and I had walked along the beach until we were exhausted. We held hands and kissed, then held hands some more. I had walked her to her car, where we kissed yet again. But I didn’t invite her to my place and she didn’t invite me to hers.
This is too good to f**k up. Even an ass**le like me knows that. If she wants to take it slow, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m not going to rush her. I have a hand for a reason and I’m not afraid to use it.
Just thinking the word use makes me remember my craving, the one where I want my nose to burn and the numbness to spread through me.
But it’s just habit. Because for the first time since I can remember, I don’t want to be numb. Mila makes me want to feel things… with her and for her. She makes me want to be a better person simply so that I can be around her.
So, I throw my covers back and do an impetuous thing.
I take the lid off of my vial and dump every pill inside it into my toilet, flushing them down. As I watch them swirl around, I’m overcome by a moment of panic.
What the f**k am I doing?
I almost thrust my hand into the toilet water to yank them out.
But then Mila’s face appears in my head and I am calm again.
I’m doing the right thing. That’s what I’m doing. And I can do this. I’m not a pu**y.
I pad down to the kitchen and find my backup pills in the freezer, and I toss them into the garbage disposal, turning it on. I listen to it grinding up the pills, grinding away my escape from reality.
I even dispose of my sleeping pills. Anything that can be a crutch to me, I pitch. Except for the three bottles of whiskey that I have in the kitchen. I’m trying to turn over a new leaf- I haven’t gone f**king insane.
My cell phone rings and I see Mila’s name light up. I smile and answer it.
“Hey, babe.”
There is silence for a second, as though the endearment caught her off-guard, but I hear the smile in her voice when she finally answers.
“Hey. Just calling to say good morning. And to thank you for last night. It was really nice. I had a fantastic time. What are you doing now? Did I wake you?”
I laugh. “No. You didn’t wake me. You won’t believe what I’m doing, actually.”
Pause.
Then she laughs. “Well, are you going to tell me or are you honestly wanting me to guess?”
“I was wanting you to guess,” I tell her. “But if you want to lack creativity, then I can just tell you. I’m turning over a new leaf. I won’t bore you with the details, but I think you’ll notice a change around here.”
Another pause.
Finally she answers.
“Pax, what do you mean, a new leaf? What kind of change are you talking about? Because if it’s something significant, I don’t want you to do it because you think I want you to. That will never work. Change only happens if you want it to happen.”
I chuckle. “You’re fairly wise for such a young little thing,” I tell her. “But I do want to make this change. You were right last night. I’ve used drugs to cover up emotions before- to block them out. Only a pu**y does that. I can handle whatever life wants to throw at me. I don’t need a crutch.”
“Okay, one, I’m not much younger than you. I’m twenty-three. And two, I’m really happy for you, Pax. This is amazing. And I’ll help you in whatever way you need. If you want, I can recommend a therapist. I used one after my parents died. He was really good with helping me deal with the grief. But I’m sure he can help you with kicking this, too.”