Life on the Level: On the Verge - Book Three Page 4

  Flashback: him, grabbing my face with his strong hands. You are so beautiful.

  I brush my hair out of my face, wishing I could do something about the heat on my skin. “I don’t know. This is—this is not okay.”

  He looks at me for a bit. Now that I’m getting over the shock of our reunion, I can get a better look at him with a sober brain. If beer goggles make uggos more attractive, then imagine what it’s done to someone like him. In my mind, I take into account that I lost the bet with myself. He’s not a cowboy. He’s a counselor.

  He’s my counselor.

  He messes up his hair, making him look all the more adorably rumpled.

  “I’m just as shocked as you, River.”

  “I’m just going to go.” I feel like a trapped mouse. “This is just too weird. I can’t be here.”

  He nods, then after another painful pause goes, “You’re right.”

  “Okay.” I dump my coffee in the trashcan and turn around.

  He starts to reach for me. I can feel his fingers graze my elbow. He thinks better of it. Then his touch is gone.

  “I shouldn’t be your counselor. That doesn’t mean you should leave. You came here to get help. I should’ve seen it when we met.”

  “Why?” I ask angrily. “Because I was a drunken mess throwing herself at you? You didn’t seem to mind.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Welcome to this funny little thing called life.”

  “I should’ve seen it because you looked so sad. I could see myself—I mean, I should’ve seen there was more to you. I don’t mean it in a bad way. I mean that part of me didn’t want to ask because I just needed—”

  “Needed what?”

  He shoves his hands into his pockets.

  Don’t look at his jeans.

  “I just needed to have you. I don’t do things like that normally.”

  “And I do? Because I’m some raging slut.” Well, I do do things like that normally. They just never blow up so spectacularly in my face.

  “Stop deflecting.”

  “Don’t Psych 101 me.”

  He smirks.

  “And stop smirking.”

  He licks his lips, and that just makes everything so much worse. He crosses his arms over his chest, leans against his desk. What a lucky fucking desk.

  “Don’t leave because of me, please. I’ll stay out of your way. I can be professional, even if what happened between us isn’t a testament to that.”

  I’m suddenly cold. I rub the goose bumps from my arms.

  “This is like the let’s-be-friends speech,” I say.

  He pushes his tongue against his cheek, and I can tell he wants to say something inappropriate. Maybe flirty.

  “Not used to that?”

  I shrug. “Won’t people ask questions about me switching counselors? Word on the street is people are clamoring to be yours. I mean—your patients.”

  He smiles, and when he smiles I realize we can never be friends. Not if he keeps looking at me that way.

  “Are the gossip mills getting to you already?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Just—be careful who you share things with here. Sometimes information is more valuable than money or cigarettes.”

  “I don’t want to get kicked out. And I don’t want either of us to get in trouble. Besides, we didn’t do anything wrong. We are two consenting adults. We met before I checked in, and we’re not pursuing anything.”

  “Right.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I know.”

  “Me too.”

  He sighs. “I’ll speak to Helen this afternoon. Tell her you’d be better suited to someone else.”

  “Okay.” Part of me, the part that’s committed to doing this, is congratulating herself. This is so grown up. This is mature and reasonable. I don’t really need to be here, do I?

  The other part—the girl who lost the bet on the man who was supposed to be a rough-and-tumble cowboy—is itching for another shot. God, I wish I had that flask right about now.

  “This is the best thing to do,” he says.

  “For you or for me?”

  “For both, I hope.”

  “Are you sure this is okay?”

  “You’re the first patient to get transferred out of my sessions.” He walks around his desk and sits again. “Don’t worry, I can take a hint.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You walked out on me, remember?”

  I nod, and let myself out. I walk away from him for the second time in two days.

  Chapter 6

  Dear Sky Lopez,

  I hope you’re having a blast on your not-a-honeymoon honeymoon. Guess what I did? In typical River fashion, I shat where I plan on eating for the next three months. The beautiful sexy guy I wrote about before? He’s my counselor. WHY ME? Seriously? Out of every guy in that bar, why did it have to be him?

  He isn’t terrible really. He’s the responsible type. Even tried to convince me that I should stay. I shouldn’t stay, should I? He promises it won’t be weird, but every time I look at him, I think about him naked!

  I’m going to find another rehab center and abstain from having sex with anyone in the city limits. Though, with my luck, I could go to rehab on the moon, and something would go wrong.

  Also, wouldn’t that be cool? Rehab on the moon…

  Ugh, you’re probably having sex right now. I hate you.

  Love,

  Riv

  • • •

  I leave the computer room after googling rehab centers in Idaho. It’s not the moon, but it’s alien enough to me.

  Someone knocks on my door. My heart jumps a little. He wouldn’t come looking for me, would he? Just in case it is him, I fluff my curls in the mirror. There’s nothing I can do about my dark circles. I shake my head at how absurdly I’m behaving. Helen’s words about getting kicked out of the program are clear as a bell.

  When I open the door, Maddie’s standing outside. She’s wearing a bathrobe that goes down to her knees, yoga pants, and an unfortunate pair of Crocs.

  “Group time!” she says, the way anyone else would say “Happy hour!”

  She cranes her neck to get a look at my room.

  It seems weird to me, so I stand in her way. “What are you doing?”

  “Just looking. Can’t I just look, Empire State?”

  “You’re weird,” I say, shutting the door behind me. The doors don’t lock, which is something that bugs the hell out of me, but I don’t have time to think about it now. So I step out into the hall and start walking ahead of her.

  “Wait up,” she says, trotting alongside me. “I saw you come out of Hutch’s office yesterday. Isn’t he the hottest hottie that ever hottied?”

  I keep looking straight ahead, even though the sound of his name makes me feel strange. The pit of my belly tightens, and a pleasant warmth spreads through me. No, no, no. Stop it this minute.

  “Yeah,” I say, sounding almost robotic. I want to convince her. I want to convince myself. “But I don’t think he’s the right match for me.”

  “What are you talking about? He’s everyone’s match. Literally everyone wants to be with Hutch. You’re weird, Empire State.”

  I shrug, taking the flight of steps two floors down to the group meeting room. There are chairs lined up in a circle. A few people are already sitting. There’s a man chewing his nails down to bloody stumps. I recognize some of these people from breakfast.

  “You can sit next to me,” Maddie says. “At least you’ll know someone. It sucks when you go somewhere new and you don’t know anyone.”

  I want to tell Maddie that I don’t particularly “know” her either, but today’s not the day to turn away new friends.

  Having never been to a group session like this, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I can’t seem to get comfortable on the big wooden chairs. I even consider sitting on the floor for a little bit.

  “Don’t be nervous,”
Maddie tells me. She slouches low into her seat. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I mean, you should when you’re ready, but no one expects you to say anything your first time.”

  “How do you know it’s her first time?” an old woman asks. “She could’ve been bouncing back and forth from rehabs since she was sixteen. She’s got the look.”

  I stare at her. Part of me was raised to respect my elders. Part of me was raised to not take shit from no one.

  “What did you say to me?”

  “Don’t pay her no mind,” a young, thirty-something guy says. I recognize him as the guy with the dimples from yesterday. “She’s meaner than Satan. That’s why no one likes her.”

  “Do you really have to use the S-word?” a younger guy says.

  “Calm your tits, Jesus Boy,” the mean old lady says.

  “Debbie,” Hutch says, walking into the room. “What did we talk about during our last session? Don’t call Pete ‘Jesus Boy.’”

  Hutch’s voice is firm, but soothing at the same time. I know he’s talking to Debbie, the old lady meaner than Satan, but he glances in my direction. How many girls have hung onto that glance?

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  My body reacts the same way it did when Maddie said his name, with the spreading warmth and the stomach pangs. I sit a little straighter, and instead look at Debbie. She crosses her arms over her chest.

  “All right,” she says. “I’m sorry I called you Jesus Boy. And I’m sorry what I said about you,” she says, setting blue eyes on me.

  “See?” Hutch asks. “It hasn’t killed you to be nice.”

  “We’ll see if I’m awake in the morning.”

  A light chuckle, followed by deafening silence.

  “Gather ‘round, everyone.” Hutch sets a stack of papers on the floor. He takes the seat directly across from me.

  “Are the lights always so bright?” I whisper to Maddie. I’ve started sweating.

  “We have a new addition to our family,” Hutch says, taking a drink from his water bottle. The skylight filters directly over us. Dust particles float in beams all around the room. It looks like we’re under the spotlight of the heavens.

  In this light, Hutch looks unreal. I’ve never met a guy who looks like this before. His body is perfection. He smiles willingly, like he’s giving you a gift. He’s got an air of calm around him. It takes me a second to recognize it as confidence, but not overconfidence. And something else. Something that maybe I’ll find here, too—self-acceptance.

  “River?”

  “Hmm?” Right, I’ve been so busy staring at him that I missed what he said.

  Maddie snorts under her hand. Debbie sucks her teeth.

  Pete gives me an encouraging smile. “Hutch asked you to introduce yourself,” he volunteers.

  “I didn’t realize you were leading group,” Maddie says.

  Someone mutters, “Meow.”

  Hutch holds a hand up, and everyone quiets. It’s interesting how much command he has over them. It’s even more interesting how they listen.

  “River?” Hutch repeats my name.

  I clear my throat to give my brain time to catch up to the rest of me.

  “Hi,” I say. I’ve never been shy, but I’ve also never been in rehab, and I guess there’s a first time for everything. Sometimes all your first times are going to come at once, and you’re never going to be prepared.

  “I’m River.” Someone (Debbie) scoffs at my name.

  There’s a chorus of, “Hello, River.”

  I focus on Hutch’s smile. I tell myself that smile isn’t just for me. It’s a smile that he gives to all the patients, perhaps all the people he comes across. Still, it feels like it’s just for me.

  “Born and raised in New York. I’m an only child. My favorite food is coffee and cold pizza. Um—I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say.”

  “Whatever you feel comfortable telling us,” Hutch says.

  I’m River, and I slept with my counselor.

  I’m River, and I don’t think I belong here.

  I’m River, and I want to go home.

  Home. My daddy’s dead, and I broke my lease. Right now, I don’t even know where home is.

  I shake my head. “That’s it.”

  “Aw, come on, Empire State,” Maddie whines. “You can do better than that. You don’t strike me as the wallflower type.”

  I can’t help but look at Hutch for his reaction. He keeps his cool. Licks his lips and looks at the ground before letting his eyes sweep across my face for a second. I turn and look at the door. If I make a mad dash, will someone come after me? Maybe Hutch himself? How long would I have to run before something stopped me?

  “Maddie,” Hutch says. “Let her speak.”

  She’s right; I’m not the shy type. I’m also not the type to spill my life story to a circle of former addicts with more issues than I’ll ever have.

  “You’ve known me for less than twenty-four hours,” I say. “How would you know what type I am?”

  Maddie opens her mouth to snap back, but Hutch stands.

  “That’s right, River. We don’t know you. How many of you walked in here and considered walking right back out because you didn’t think this was the right place for you? Raise your hands.”

  Maddie raises her hand. Five more hands go up. Not Debbie’s. I raise my hand.

  “You don’t think you belong here?” Hutch asks me. He looks me dead in the eye, and suddenly I want to run faster and further than I ever have before.

  “I’ve been thinking about it, and I still don’t know.” And that’s the most honest I can be with myself right now.

  “Let me ask all of you,” Hutch says, calmly walking a few paces around the circle. “What made you decide to stay here?”

  Everyone fidgets. Maddie gives me a dirty look, then examines the dirt under her nails as if it’s more interesting than anything Hutch has to say.

  “Pete,” Hutch says, pointing at the young guy.

  Pete sits with his shoulders back. He’s got incredible posture. He’s also the only one of us wearing clothes that couldn’t pass for pajamas.

  “The first time I came here was after the accident that took my best friend’s leg.” For all of their bickering and snide comments, everyone perks up to listen. They nod their heads sympathetically, and wait for his words.

  “I was court mandated to serve twenty-eight days of rehab, and I did it. I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol. I even stopped baking so I wouldn’t have access to vanilla extract.” He looks down at his hands, crossing them on his lap. “Afterward, I went back to church, even though everyone would be talking about the terrible thing I’d done. My family assured me that I was part of a community. I took it one day at a time. I even let myself attend Henry’s twenty-seventh birthday party. I was fine, until I wasn’t.

  “Everywhere I went I could hear people whispering about me. How dare I show my face? Henry would never play football because of me. Henry would never have the same life because of me. I was damned to go to Hell. I was the worst kind of person. After a while they stopped whispering and just said the words to my face.

  “The morning after I woke up on Henry’s parents’ front lawn, I couldn’t remember how I got there or even where I got my first drink. I just remember this crowd of people standing around me and pointing.” Pete stops talking for few moments. He starts to twist his fingers in his own hands. “I was covered in my own filth. I—I—I knew I wasn’t strong enough. So I found a new place. I came here. I thought about turning back. I thought about moving away, finding a fresh start. But then, what if I did the same thing in a new town? What was to stop me from ruining someone else’s life? What was to stop me from falling all over again?”

  “So the thing that makes you stay is fear of repeating your past mistakes?” Hutch asks.

  “The thing that makes me stay is knowing I’ll repeat my past mistakes. I think that’s God’s plan for me.”

  “You
don’t know that,” I tell him. “I mean, I’d like to think that we have control over our choices.”

  “If you believed that,” he tells me, “then you wouldn’t be in this circle.”

  That’s a kick to the gut. How many times have I lost control? Sometimes I’d wake up and with no memory of what I’d done. Even if I was with friends, I’d take one look at their faces, and swallow the regret on my tongue. Sometimes I’d be alone and naked, my floor covered in poker chips and wads of cash, the pain in my skull drowning out the ache in my heart. How many times have I told myself it’s the last time?

  “Come on, guys,” Hutch says. “Don’t leave me standing here talking to myself. I can do that on my own time.”

  A Hispanic girl raises her hand. “I’m tired of hurting people. That’s what made me turn around and stay.”

  There’s a collective agreement of nods and yeses.

  “When I was kid,” Hutch says, settling back into his chair, “I lived for the days my dad had custody of us. I must’ve been about seven, and I had made the football team. Back then I fancied myself the next John Elway, and there was nothing I wanted more than to throw the ball around with my dad. All he had to do was show up twice a month.

  “My brother was older by three years, but still, he had more sense than I did and realized that I could sit on that front step for hours and hours, but no one was coming.

  “I can’t pretend to tell you all that I know what you’re going through. I don’t know addiction, and I can’t preach to you about the effects of addiction. I can’t tell you anything that others haven’t said a hundred times already.

  “But what I can tell you is that I wish that my father had been as brave as all of you. I wish he’d had the courage to say, ‘I’m tired of hurting my boys.’ That right there is what makes all of you different. No one can make that decision but you. I’m here to listen and offer a hand when you need it.”

  I feel a swell in my chest after his story. I knew we were both orphans, but I had no clue we were abandoned around the same time by one of our parents. This is a much different way to get to know someone after sleeping with them.

  I imagine Hutch as a little boy. Did he have the same warm dark eyes? Did he have this same smile when he sat there waiting for his father to remember him? I know that when it was me, when I was the one waiting for my mother to come back home, I didn’t.