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“What do you mean, you need some time? I didn’t do anything wrong, Anna. I didn’t know. It wasn’t me. I was out of it.” He starts to yell, and it sparks my rage, too. Realising where we are, I storm out of the café, and he follows.
I turn to yell back at him. “That’s just it. We shouldn’t be out of our minds to the point of not having control. That’s not right, and it’s terrifying. What if it was the other way around? How would you feel?” My words hit him where I know he’ll react, provoking him, and I want to punish him by forcing him to imagine what I felt.
“Don’t. Don’t say things like that.” He shakes his head at me before shoving his hands through his hair and scrunching up his fists, and I know I’ve won. He couldn’t take it any more than I can.
“See, you’d be going out of your mind. Just like me. So, the drugs stop, Jere. We should be happy, living our lives. Nothing is stopping us from being happy. But even with your mum in rehab, you seem to need this destructive path. This is the wake-up call that I needed, and maybe you do too.”
“I thought I was your family. You don’t abandon your family when they need you, Anna.” His words cut deep, and maybe that is his intention. He knows this will sting because I remember what being abandoned feels like.
“If you love me, you’ll see this is best for us both. We need to get clean and stop drowning in drugs. I’m not breaking up with you.”
“If you love me, you won’t do this. I’ve got nobody now. Nobody.” He paces back and forth, shoving his hands through his hair again.
I don’t want to see him like this. “You still have me. But I need to get sober. I need to get over what happened that night.”
“And you want to do that without me?”
“Are you going to stop using? Get rid of the pills, the weed, the coke and whatever else you’ve been taking?”
It’s his turn to grit his teeth and tense his jaw as he looks away.
“Seems like you need those more than you need me then.”
“Screw you, Anna. I thought…” he trails off. “Doesn’t matter. I was wrong.”
“This isn’t us breaking up, Jeremy. I love you. We can get past this,” I tell him again.
“Funny. It feels like you’re tearing my heart out and shoving it down my throat.”
“This isn’t you talking. You’re angry.”
“No shit, I’m angry.”
“Well, imagine how I feel. Don’t blame me for how I’m feeling. That’s shitty. If you love me, if you really love me, then you’ll want what’s right for me. And what’s right for me now is to get better. You can either support me or not. It’s your choice. But don’t confuse this for me breaking up with you. That’s your call and your mind twisting things.”
We stare at each other, locked in our war of words, waiting for the other to flinch first. I can’t crumble, not now.
He doesn’t say anything; he just waits. I want more than anything for him to fight for us, to hear my words and realise what they mean. But he doesn’t. The time runs on, and it breaks my heart, fracturing and decaying as I stand and wait. So, I turn and start to walk away. “You made this choice, Jere. Remember that,” I shout back, holding it together before the emotion chokes the words from me.
By the time I’m home, I’m in pieces. My hands are shaking, and the thirst in my throat is burning.
All I want is a drink. I want to get wasted and take this horrible, sinking feeling away and forget about all the pain. Forget about the words, the memories, everything.
But there’s nothing here. I start pulling open the cabinets, hoping for something — anything. The kitchen doesn’t have anything that would satisfy me.
“Hey, Anna. Everything okay?” Mum comes out of her studio as I’m ransacking the kitchen.
“Fine.” I slam the doors and keep looking.
“There’s nothing here. Nothing to drink, anyway.” She leans against her door and speaks so calmly that it just makes me all the madder.
“Damn it, I just need a drink.”
“Where have you been?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m back.” I storm past her and start in the front room. There used to be a couple of bottles on display on the side table. They’re not here.
There’s nothing here.
