4:56pm.
I’ve been awake an hour. I’ve been told that I was dehydrated and needed two IV drip infusions. I have to admit after I managed to ignore the pinching, the IV was doing its job. I feel better already.
But one thing is missing.
Or I should say, one person.
The room dimly lit by lamplight, I turn to see Happy watching TV in the chair beside the bed.
I feel much better now. I’m no longer dehydrated and have eaten. The doc gave me parting instructions, which he said he would write down for me. He shot me a glare as he handed me the folded paper. Then he was gone.
As soon as he left, I opened the note and read. The top of the paper had printed Doctor’s recommendation to patient. Underneath that was scrawled:
Don’t do cocaine.
My face flamed. I don’t exactly remember what happened last night, but I do remember enough to cringe and wince at my actions. My heart races. There’s no way around it. I’m going to lose my job. I won’t pass this year’s random drug test.
And I blame Twitch.
His mess of a life has become my mess.
Turning to the digital clock on the nightstand, I stare at the display.
22:45pm and he’s still not home.
Fucking coward.
Hugging myself around the knees, I say quietly, “I’d like to go home now.”
I feel Happy’s eyes on me. He sighs, “You don’t have to, Lex. You can stay—”
I cut him off. “I’d like to go home. If you can arrange a car, good. If you can’t, I’ll catch a taxi.”
He scoffs, “Don’t even think about it, girl. I’ll drive you myself.”
Within ten minutes, my miserable ass is driving away from the man I thought could change.
Would change.
I guess I was wrong.
One week later…
To say I’m jumpy is an understatement.
It’s been a week since I saw Twitch. A week since I was sick. A week since I took cocaine for the first time.
Sitting behind my desk, I listen to Charlie without really listening to him. Small bits of the conversation drift in and out of my consciousness. “Yearly drug test… Every six months… Randomly… Tomorrow afternoon… Compulsory… Will result in immediate termination… Nothing to worry about.”
My heart sinks.
Time to face the facts.
Tomorrow is the day I lose my job. A job I worked my ass off to get. A job I love with all my heart.
Charlie searches my face. He frowns, “Lex, I know we’re not supposed to get personal at work, but I…” He sighs. “…I just want to ask if everything’s okay. You haven’t been yourself lately. I rarely see you smile anymore. I’m worried about you.”
Standing abruptly, I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my skirt. Putting on my brightest smile, I tell him, “I’m fine. Really. I just haven’t been sleeping well lately. I have a lot on my mind.”
Charlie throws me a sympathetic smile. “Okay. Well, you know you can talk to me anytime.”
Standing, he takes his leave and I stand behind my desk, brain blank.
The past week has been shitty. Shitty because I felt ill most days, and shitty because Twitch decided he is sick of playing with me.
But didn’t have the guts to tell me himself. I’ve been waiting a week for him to show up in my room or text me. I haven’t even felt him watching me. He’s just…gone.
I realize the cocaine thing was bad and I shouldn’t have done that, but in all seriousness, I don’t even remember doing it.
I mean, me? Doing cocaine? I-I don’t know what happened.
That’s just not like me.
I’ve avoided Nikki and Dave as much as humanly possible. They’ve been calling every day asking if we can get together, but I’ve told them that I haven’t been well and didn’t want to pass my bug on. Dave seemed mollified. Nikki? Not so much.
She knows. She always knows when something’s happened.
And that ass**le. That f**king ass**le.
Ditching me like yesterday’s trash.
I tell myself that I don’t care and that it’s much better this way. Cutting ties without leaving a mess. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cut me deep.
I seem to be going through the stages of grief.
I’ve already been through the first step, denial and isolation, and have moved up to stage two, anger. And I’m angry right now.
How dare he? Who does he think he is? I don’t need him.
Maybe if you just call him…?
Oh hell. I’m already on the verge of step three. Bargaining.
I don’t care who he is, I’m not calling him. I haven’t done anything wrong!
Sitting back down behind my desk, I text Nikki and Dave, asking them to meet me tonight.
I need a girl’s night.
“So what you’re saying is that he just stopped calling?”
Well, technically, Twitch doesn’t call, but… “Yeah. That’s about right,” I tell Nikki.
Dave looks over at me through sad eyes. “Maybe you should call him. He could just be busy.”
Rolling my eyes, I state, “You don’t even like him! Why are you sticking up for him?”
Dave places his hands up in an I surrender gesture, “I may not like him, but I know you do, which means he’s gotta have some redeeming qualities or you wouldn’t want him.”
Does Twitch have any redeeming qualities? I’ll have to ponder this question later.
Nikki asks, “You don’t think he’s just giving you some time to yourself after getting sick at his place? Maybe he thinks you’re embarrassed about it and will come to him when you’re ready.”
Yeah. That’s right. I’m officially a lying sack of shit.
I couldn’t tell my friends that I had willingly taken drugs. They’d be so disappointed in me. Dave and Nikki aren’t against the use of drugs, but they know what I do for a living. They know what happens if I take drugs. They know…they know I’ll lose my job.
And tomorrow it’ll all come out.
But I’ll wait until then.
Throwing some potato chips into my mouth, I chew loudly, sigh, then let out a garbled, “Life sucks.”
The woman who swabbed my inner cheek was young and plump, with short black hair and tattoos.
Tattoos that immediately reminded me of a certain someone I’d rather not think about.
She said, “You can wait here for the results,” as she went to process my positive result.
Unable to sit there knowing what would be happening in a few minutes, I all but ran back to my office, and flustered, began looking through my drawers.