Right and wrong. Which one is right? Which one is wrong? How much do I care for her? A lot. More than a lot. I care for her so much that I want everything to be perfect when we finally do get together, so even though I’ve got the hugest hard-on, I force myself to step away and wait for the perfect moment to continue this.
“Nova, I… I think we should slow things down a little.” I’m one step away from touching myself and it’s almost physically impossible to pull my hand away, but I still manage to.
“Oh, okay.” Her voice falters and I feel like the biggest ass that’s ever existed.
I push back from the wall and turn the shower off, gradually turning the knob so that for a brief moment I get sprayed by icy-cold water to help cool me off and settle me down. “Hey, I’m getting out and I wanted to talk to you about something.” I pull the shower curtain back and step out, reaching for a towel. “Something pretty important.”
“Sure. What’s up?” She’s working hard to hide her disappointment, which makes it harder to dry off and start getting dressed.
“It’s actually about something I did,” I say, tugging a T-shirt over my head. “But give me a second because I want to tell you when I’m in my room.” As I slip into my jeans, I think about which thing I’m going to tell her. That I managed to take one photo of Lexi down or about what I have underneath my mattress. If I can confess that to her, I know I’ll be able to get rid of it. I just have to decide if I want to.
I go into my room, barefoot, my hair damp, and shut the door behind me. I turn and look at the spot on the wall where the photo of Lexi was, so lonely, surrounded by sketches and photos. Then I look down at my unmade bed, deciding. Which path do I want to go down here?
“I took down something from my wall today.” I sink down onto my bed and lower my head, pressing my fingertips to the bridge of my nose as I squeeze my eyes shut. “A picture of Lexi.” It’s excruciating to say it, blinding pain within my skull and heart, but at the same time I feel lighter.
“Oh my God, Quinton,” she says with empathy in her voice. “Are you okay? Jesus, if I would have known I wouldn’t have…” She trails off, feeling guilty.
“It’s okay, Nova. I’m okay.” I look back up and skim around the four walls of my bedroom. “I’ve still got a ways to go, too… there are still a lot of photos and pictures up.”
“But that’s a step in the right direction and each time it’ll get easier. I promise.”
“I hope so,” I tell her, then slide to the floor and kneel down at the side of my bed. “I have to tell you something else, but it’s not good—it’s bad.” Before I can chicken out, I hurry and sputter, “Someone gave me a bag of meth today and I have it underneath my mattress.” As soon as I say it, I wonder why the hell I thought this was a good idea, throwing this on her. I need to stop relying on her so much—need to stand on my own two feet.
I’m about to hang up, because really it’s the only choice, but then she says, “Did you do any of it?”
“No.” My voice shakes as I grip the side of the mattress and battle to breathe evenly.
“Do you want to?” she asks calmly.
“Yes.” My voice is full of desperation.
“Are you… are you going to?” There’s a hint of worry in her tone.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I want to, but I also want to throw it away.”
“Then throw it away,” she says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.
“I don’t think I can.” My hands quiver just at the thought of it and I rest my forehead on the mattress, still on my knees “It feels f**king impossible.”
“Yes, you can.” She sounds so certain and I have no idea how she’s doing it—managing to sound so calm when I know she can’t be. “Just take it and dump it down the toilet. You can do this. I know you can.”
“You have too much faith in me,” I say, slipping my fingers between the bed and the mattress, fighting the urge to hang up on her and turn to what’s only inches away from my fingertips.
“No, I have the right amount,” she replies. “Now let me know when you have it and you’re headed to the bathroom. And don’t hang up on me.” It’s like she can read my mind.
I sit there forever, going back and forth with what I want and need to do. At one point I grab the bag of crystal and put it back. Then pull it out again and open it, staring at the white crystals so close I can almost taste them. But I can also hear Nova breathing on the other end. Soft and full of concern. Acting calm, when I’m sure she’s freaking out. I want to throw them away just for her, but I have to wonder if it’s possible to care for someone so much that I’d give this up. Do I care for her that much?
After a lot of deliberating, I come to one simple answer.
Yes. I care about her that much.
I get to my feet and make my way to the bathroom, not speaking. Then I lift up the toilet seat and, shutting my eyes, I tip the bag over, pour the contents into the water, and flush them down.
“Did you do it?” Nova asks at the sound of the flushing.
I press my lips together, resting back against the bathroom wall, realizing how sweaty I am and how much I’m gasping for air. “I did.”
“See, I knew you could do it,” she says with relief in her voice. “I knew you’d do the right thing.”
The right thing? Is that what I just did? Sometimes it feels like it is, but there are other times when it feels like what I’m doing is so wrong and disrespectful to Lexi. But through the right and wrong, there’s always one thing that gives me hope and that’s Nova. She’s what keeps me going.
Chapter 10
December 23, day fifty-five in the real world
Nova
Quinton freaked me out yesterday, but I think I did well hiding it and calming him down. At least I hope so. But part of me can’t help but wonder if he’ll end up doing drugs again. I can’t stop obsessing over it and all I want to do is go to Seattle and see him—make sure everything is going okay.
On top of everything else, Tristan’s freaking me out too. He keeps giving me these come-hither looks from across the room, and while I was taking a shower this afternoon, he walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. This is not good at all. I can see it leading to a very bad place where everything is going to crumble. I need to find a way to talk about it with him, tell him how I feel, but I’m worried about how he’s going to react.