Clementine and her family had always been my home. They’d been the one’s there to pick me up and save me every time I fell, but that hadn’t stopped the hole within from growing bigger and bigger. I didn’t know what to do anymore. I was scared and worried. I was scared that I’d never be able to make it right. I didn’t want to see my mother. I didn’t want to face that pain again. I wanted to ignore it and her and that made me feel guilty. What sort of son was I? Was I capable of love? Was I capable of really loving someone? I didn’t even know anymore. I just didn’t even know. I jumped up and walked to the bedroom and looked at some of the photos that Clementine had put on the wall of the two of us. Photos that reminded me of the past. Photos that reminded me of how simple my life had been before I’d acknowledged that I had feelings for Clementine. The days when all I’d needed was to hook up with some random girl, to forget the loneliness. The days when casual sex had provided me with a high that was enough to get me through. Though, it had never been the sex that had gotten me through. It had always been Clementine. It had always been there. She’d always been my rock, but what had I been to her? Was I doomed to ruin this relationship? Could I be the man that she wanted? I stared at a photo of the two of us sitting on a couch together making silly faces and my heart broke. This beautiful girl was my life. She deserved better than me. She deserved a man that could give her the stars and the moon. She deserved a man that could give her everything she wanted. I didn’t know if I was capable of being that man. I didn’t know if I had it in me to give that much of my heart and soul; no matter how much I wanted to. I didn’t even know if I had that much to give anymore. I sat down on the bed and held the picture frame to my chest. I wanted so much to make it work with Clementine, but I didn’t know if I could ever be the man that deserved to be with her.
Chapter Eight
Rhett
“Did it hurt you? These are the scars you never show. She is a fire sign, you know. One day you're near and then you go.”
"Fire Sign" by David Berkeley - After The Wrecking Ships.
There was only one room with a light shining through the door as I walked down the corridor and I paused outside the door, debating whether or not I should go inside. My heart was racing as I stood there uncertainly. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing here. I knew Clementine would wonder where I was when she got home. I hadn’t called and I hadn’t left a message, but I hadn’t known what to say.
“Hey,” a girl standing by the doorway nodded at me unsmiling. “You here for the group?”
“Perhaps.”
“What’s your issue?” She looked me up and down. “Let me guess, cocaine?”
“No, I don’t do cocaine.” I shook my head.
“Heroine?”
“No.”
“Meth?” Her voice rose and she looked surprised. “You look too preppy for a meth addict.”
“I’m not an addict.”
“Then why are you here?” She sounded annoyed.
“To understand.” I said softly.
“To understand what?”
“What it’s like to be an addict.”
“Oh.” She pulled her hair to her lips and started sucking on it.
“Why are you here?” I smiled. “Addicted to sucking your hair?” I teased her lightly.
“Alcohol.” She shrugged and looked down. “And company.”
“Company?” I looked around the room. Most people were sitting in chairs by themselves, not communicating.
“It’s not Glee Club.” She said shrilly. “But we all come every week. I can count on them.”
“For what?”
“To be there.” She shrugged.
“I see.” Though I didn’t really. I looked at the small group of people and looked back at the door. “I guess I should leave.” I said softly, the most unsure I’d ever been in my life.
“You don’t have to leave.” She shook her head, her eyes disappointed. “We could always use another member.”
“I’m not an addict though. I don’t want to take time away from anyone else.”
“But you came to understand right?” She asked softly as I nodded. “I wish my boyfriend would come.”
“You have a boyfriend?” I looked at her skinny body and greasy hair and had to admit I was surprised. “Sorry that was rude.” I said quickly.
“No need to apologize.” She laughed. “It takes a lot more than that to get me down.”
“I didn’t mean to be rude. Clementine says I talk without thinking sometimes.”
“Who’s Clementine? Your girl?” She looked at me thoughtfully.
I nodded in response, feeling guilty that I was even here. For some reason I felt like I was cheating on Clementine. I knew she’d be hurt if she knew I was here, but I hadn’t known how to tell her how I felt. I was ashamed of myself for my feelings. I was ashamed that a part of me just wanted to forget my mother even existed. I was ashamed that I felt so empty inside, when I should have been the happiest in my life.
“She pretty?” The girl in front of me continued sucking her hair. “She must be real pretty if she got a guy like you.”
“A guy like me?”
“A guy with big blue eyes and a handsome face.” She laughed. “I’m an addict. I’m not blind.”
“I’m really not all that.” I said modestly and then laughed. I could imagine the face Clementine would have made if she’d witnessed this conversation.
“So is Clementine the one with the problem?” The girl paused. “Let me guess, she’s addicted to crack and you don’t know how to tell your blue-blood parents that their perfect son is caught up with a crackhead from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“I’m no blueblood.” I said with a drawl and laughed at her shocked expression. “And Clementine is not a crackhead or from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“So who’s the dope head?”
“No one’s a dope head.” I said softly.
“Oh.” I knew she wanted to ask more, but she thought better of it.
“My mom’s an alcoholic.” I said softly. “And she’s dying.”
“Oh.” She said again and this time she removed the hair from her mouth and brushed it away from her face. I could see now that she was prettier than I’d initially thought. “That’s tough.”