Page 18

Mike

O pening the door to Jordan’s bedroom in the dark, all I can make out is an oversized lump on the bed, so that’s where I aim when I throw the bottle. The pills land with a soft, unsatisfying thud on the mound of blankets covering my roommate.

“Thanks a lot, asshole,” I say, loudly enough to wake him.

“What the hell, man?” He opens his eyes and rubs his face with both hands. “What’s going on?” He switches on the lamp next to his bed and looks around the room, then his eyes land on me, and finally, down at the medicine resting on his comforter.

“I told Danielle everything. Then she found your pills in my truck.”

“Oh, shit. You told her? That’s a big step, right?” He takes the small bottle into his hand. “I was wondering where these were. I’m sorry. For real. I didn’t realize I left them in your car.”

“Why didn’t you tell me they were gone?”

“The over-the-counter stuff was working out okay, and I felt stupid for losing the pills two seconds after asking you for a ride to pick them up.” He rubs his eyes. “I remember now that I pulled them out to take one at Taco Terrace, but I dropped the bottle and spilled half of them in the parking lot. Then I forgot I stashed the rest of them in your glove box. Honestly, I didn’t remember doing it until you came in here. Between the beer and cigars and the meds, I was pretty toasted. I just knew they were gone, and I didn’t want to ask you to go back out looking for my missing drugs with me. Guess I thought that could be triggering for you or something.”

Jordan knew his meds were gone and didn’t remember why, but he didn’t blame me? I shake my head because I almost can’t compute that thought. He trusted me. No one has given me the benefit of the doubt for years. It’s still his fault that I am in this mess, but now I want to hug him almost as much as I want to pound him, although the anger is still winning.

“Yeah, well, Danielle thought I stole them. Blamed me the second she laid eyes on that bottle, and didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”

“That’s harsh. Obviously, you didn’t take any. I dropped them. They are probably pulverized all over Taco Terrace’s pavement if she wants to go check.”

“There are twelve left. You can count them.”

“I don’t need to count them, dude.”

As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I think I actually want him to count the pills. I need someone else to confirm I didn’t do what Danielle is accusing me of doing. If there are still twelve pills in that bottle, it proves I could be trusted to overcome the temptation on my way here.

“Please.”

Jordan rolls his eyes but sits up straighter and dumps the contents of the bottle into the palm of his hand. He counts one-by-one as he places each pill back into the container. Of course, there are a dozen pills, just like Danielle said. Not a single one has gone missing since we found the bottle. Even though I knew that’s what was going to happen, I blow out a long, slow sigh of relief.

As much as it hurts to know that Danielle doesn’t trust me yet, it’s good to see that Jordan does, and it also feels damn good to realize that I could trust myself today. I didn’t say anything to Danielle that I regret. We were fighting, but I kept my head on and didn’t let anything get out of hand. I had opioids in my grasp after a heated argument, I was under a lot of stress, but I didn’t even think about taking any of the pills. I didn’t stash them for myself or try to trade them up for something stronger. Instead, my instinct was to drive here and hand them over to Jordan. That’s progress.

I’m still pissed at the situation, but I’m almost proud of myself for being able to handle it. Almost. Even though my own dad and the woman I’ve fallen for both think I’m still a loser. I suck in another shaky breath and run my hand through my hair.

“Thanks for trusting me, I guess.”

“Yeah, man. Of course. We need to hug now or something?”

“Shut up.”

Jordan puts the bottle in the top drawer of his nightstand to signal that we are finished talking about this and he changes the subject.

“Are you going to tell your folks about Family Night at the ballpark? It’s coming up pretty soon. They might need time to make a plan if they want to come.”

I shrug. “I was thinking about texting my sisters, but I doubt they can make it.”

“I didn’t ask about your sisters.”

“I know.” The door closes behind me as I leave his room.

Family Night has been the last thing on my mind. It’s a long way from Idaho to Virginia. I don’t expect them to make the trip, but Coach says we need more butts in seats or we will be in danger of facing more budget cuts. He worked with the marketing team to get this event on the schedule, and he wants us to invite as many friends and family members as possible. He’s convinced that if we can pack the stadium the newly generated interest in the team would appease the higher-ups and get them off his back about the money, at least for a little while. I was planning to ask Danielle to bring her crew, but who knows if that has any chance of happening now? I hate the way we left things.

I head to the kitchen because I need to eat something, but there’s no way I can stomach that carbonara now without thinking of Danielle. Instead, I pop a plate of leftover chicken breast and broccoli into the microwave and think about her anyway. Sitting down in front of the TV with my dinner in my lap, I can’t taste anything because I’m numb inside. I allow myself to shoot off one text to the woman I hope is still my girlfriend.

Hope you made it home safe. I promise I had nothing to do with those pills. If you want to talk more, I’ll be here.

There. The ball is in her court. I’m not going to chase her. She’s the one who needs to figure out what she wants. Either she trusts me or she doesn’t. It’s that simple. But if she does want to be with me, she’s going to have to meet me where I am. I can’t go backwards to a place where the most important people in my life are always walking a tightrope around me, waiting for me to screw up. At the first sign of trouble, she jumped to the worst possible conclusion. That’s not fair to either one of us. For now, all I can do is hope that she will realize I’m not that guy anymore, and I never have been that guy around her.

I turn the channel to ESPN in time to catch the last ten minutes of SportsCenter . Jordan comes in and flops down next to me with a bag of shelled sunflower seeds in his hand. He holds them out to offer me some, but I shake my head.

“They show the highlights from the Phillies game yet?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’m not really paying attention.”

“She hasn’t called?” He nods toward the phone in my hand, which I’ve been checking every two seconds.

“She was probably too good for me anyway.” I try to sound indifferent, but it just comes out bitter. “I’m not boyfriend material.”

“Oh, come on. Enough with the whole ‘I don’t deserve anything good in my life because I made some mistakes when I was nineteen’ sobfest. Don’t sell yourself short, man. You’re a different person now. No one worth being with is going to fault you for having a story. We all have them. We move past our shit and grow up. Growth is a good thing.” Jordan leans back and crosses his arms. I get the impression that mine is not the only story he’s referencing, but he can tell me about his baggage later. Tonight, it’s my turn to sulk.

If only it were true that no one blames us for our pasts, but it’s not. I lost my relationship with my dad and now things with Danielle seem to be over before they really started just because of who I used to be.

“I can’t grow if people keep cutting me down,” I argue.

“What are you talking about? I told you I’m sorry about the pills, man. But you’re in rare form tonight. This has to be about more than just Danielle finding the prescription.”

“It is about that. But yeah, there’s other stuff, sure. My own dad won’t speak to me. I can’t earn a starting spot even though I’m working my ass off. Oh, and our entire team thinks I’m someone I’m not. They have no idea I’m an addict, and I can’t tell them because look what happens as soon as people find out.” I throw up my hands, then immediately bring them down and cross them across my chest, bouncing my knees.

“Yeah, all of that sucks. But you know what? Just own it,” Jordan says, seeming annoyed. “Move forward. Stop letting this control you.” I don’t know if the “this” he is talking about is Danielle or my addiction, but either way, this impromptu speech of his is rubbing me the wrong way. She is not just some girl I saw a few times. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I don’t want to move forward from her. But I don’t know how to move past all the things I’ve done. If I did, I would have done that a long time ago. I’ve been holding in too much for too long, and his lame advice is the spark that makes me explode.

“I’ll own my shit as soon as you do. At least I make an attempt to own mine. I went after what I wanted with Danielle. I told her the truth. What the hell are you doing about your own life? All I see is a guy criticizing me for not doing things exactly the way he wants.”

“I’m not criticizing you, dude. I’m just trying to help. You’re not really owning it though, are you? If you were, you would be out there fighting to save what you have with the first person who has made you happy since I met your grumpy ass. Instead you’re sitting here, sulking on this couch.”

“Well, let me just get a notebook so I can jot down this sage wisdom from the king of functional relationships. Oh, wait. That’s right. You’re also sitting here alone, except you’re pretending you can blame that insane vow when we both know your real problem is you.”

It’s a low blow that he doesn’t deserve. He is just trying to help me. My words hit their mark, just like I intended, but instead of fighting back Jordan decides to take the high road. It’s too bad, because it would have felt good to punch something tonight. He pushes himself off the couch, then walks down the hall and shuts himself back in his bedroom. The guilt hits me immediately, and I come crashing down just as fast as I went off.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” I call after him. It’s not an apology, but it’s all I’ve got right now.

Own it? Easy for him to say. What does that even mean? I already put in the work. I went to treatment. I go to the meetings. Why can’t that ever be enough? I don’t want to be forced to announce my flaws to the world. I don’t want my addiction to be the thing that defines me for the rest of my life, the thing that makes people suspicious every time I walk past a prescription sitting out on their counter, or the reason they aren’t sure if they can trust me around their kids.

But it is, and I don’t know if I will ever be able to change that.