Page 11

“I’m not using anymore, I'm done,”

I tell Jake as I sit across from him, the sun filtering softly through the kitchen window as we drink our morning coffee.

“That’s really great, babe,”

he responds, not looking up from his phone.

“I’m done,”

I repeat, my voice steady as he finally looks at me and smiles, but my hands tremble slightly around my mug, “I don't want to be around drugs anymore.”

His smile falters, just for a second, but it’s enough for me to notice, and he taps his fingers on his mug as he thinks. He’s thinking, what is there to think about?

And that’s what scares me. Because I don’t know what he’s thinking, if he’s willing to make this change for real, or if he’s just saying what I want to hear to keep me around. I need to know. I need him to choose me. To choose us.

“When did I become the bitch you should ditch?”

I finally ask Jake.

“You went through my phone?”

He asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

“No,”

I say slowly, “Bianca texted you as I was getting onto the couch with you.”

“It’s no big deal. She was just joking.”

He shrugs it off like it doesn't matter, but it does. She’s his best friend, and none of his friends who came over on his birthday said a word to me as they left.

“Well, I think it is.”

“Fine. Think whatever you want.”

He shrugs and picks up his phone. “I’m calling my mom. See if she’ll let us crash there while we figure out the next steps.”

He strides out to the patio, the door clicking shut behind him as he lifts the phone to his ear

I’d only met his mom once, and it was pretty clear she didn't like me from the start. Not only did she spend more than 30 minutes gushing about Jake’s ex, Caylee’s mom, but she grilled me about why I didn't have custody of my son.

I take a deep breath as I step into the house, Jake holding my hand and leading me inside. His mom, Tara, is sitting at the kitchen table when I walk in, and the moment our eyes meet, I feel her judgment.

“Elle,”

she says, her voice sharp yet polite. “Nice to finally meet you. Jake’s told me a lot about you.”

Her gaze doesn’t soften.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Tara.”

I nod and try to smile.

“So, I understand your parents have custody of your son?”

she asks, leaning forward, not wasting any time.

My chest tightens when Jake doesn't say anything to her for being so forward before I've even taken a seat at the table.

“I... I struggled with postpartum depression,”

I explain quietly, the words tasting bitter in my mouth as I sit down, “I didn’t leave him because I wanted to. I was in a really dark place.”

“And now that you know you had that, what have you been doing to change it?”

“I see him as often as I can, Jake takes me every chance we get,”

She tilts her head slightly, as if trying to sense a lie.

“And how does your mother feel about raising your son?”

“I’m sorry, I don't know how to answer that. I know she wishes it were me, but she loves him. She wouldn’t want him anywhere else.

“Hmm, not even with you?”

she looks from me to Jake, who is sitting, scrolling on his phone to my left.

Before I can say anything else, she shifts gears.

“You know,”

Tara begins, her tone suddenly warmer, “Jake’s ex, Caylee’s mother, and I have become quite close over the years. We have monthly dinner dates still, just the two of us, and we always go to the casino afterward. It’s really nice. I think you’d really like her, Elle.”

“That’s... nice, but I’m sure it’s hard for Jake to see you two so close, don’t you think?”

“Oh, Jake and I have had our talks about it, of course,”

Tara smiles, but it’s not a warm one, “He’s a little uncomfortable with it sometimes, but he understands how important it is for me to keep those ties with her, for Caylee’s sake.”

Her words hang in the air as I try to keep my breathing steady. It’s clear she doesn’t think I’m good enough for Jake, but I won’t let her make me feel small. I've never had a problem with standing up for myself. She can think what she wants, but I haven’t gotten high since our trip to Disney Land, and I’ve been seeing Damian once a week since we got back.

“She wasn't thrilled, but she wouldn't say no and make me homeless, so we have a room, temporarily, at her house,”

Jake says, pulling me from the memory.

“Between your best friend not liking me now and your mother thinking I’m a piece of shit, this should be fun.”

my voice drips with sarcasm as I lean against the wall, arms crossed.

“Bianca doesn't hate you. She’s just not in the same place as us. She wants to keep partying and getting high. I can't blame her for not wanting to hang out right now, and you shouldn't either.”

Jake eats his words over the next week while we pack to move to his mom’s, because Bianca doesn't keep her new feelings about me quiet. It comes to a head when we’re in the moving truck and she calls him, his phone on speaker while he drives.

“You’ve changed, and not in a good way. How can you be with someone who doesn't even like your kid, Jake?”

Bianca asks.

I bite my tongue to keep quiet as Jake looks over at me quickly before turning back to the road.

“She doesn't have her own kid. How could you think she wants to be around yours?”

she continues, and I squeeze my hands into fists.

“That’s enough, Bianca. Jesus. Figure your shit out,”

he snaps and hangs up on her, tossing the phone onto the dash.

“You know I like Caylee,”

I start before he interrupts me.

“Don't listen to her. She’s just pissed I told her I’m not partying with her anymore,”

he says, reaching over and grabbing my hand.

“I won't lie,”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I’m glad you decided to stop using with me, but I don't want you to end up losing your best friend just because I want to get clean.”

“No, you were right. Having Caylee there that night wasn't right. I could tell it was beginning to be a problem, so that's why I agreed to stop. And I won't lose Bianca. She's been my best friend since 9th grade.”

I’ve spent the last year partying, getting high and miserable, but I ignored the emptiness, pretending it didn’t hurt. Nothing ever made me want to stop. Until Caylee was there while everyone got high. I knew my choice to get clean was the right one. Jake had just started to party, and at first, I felt a little guilty for being the reason he stopped. He saw what was starting to happen pretty quickly because of his past issues with addiction, and he decided that after his birthday, he wouldn't do it again.

It’s only been a few days for him, but he hasn’t been on ecstasy as long as I was, so he doesn’t have to go through the withdrawals like I did. The shaking and sweats started less than 72 hours after I had taken my last pill. I was angry and paranoid for days. I begged Jake to call Bianca to bring some over, but he ignored me, bringing me food that I refused to eat and even tossing me into a cold shower after one of the nastier fights I instigated.

That’s when I learned that he had a past with drugs. At just 14, he moved in with his dad for the first time, and he started using meth. It took his dad two years to catch on, and he was beaten and shipped back to his mom, who brought him straight to a rehab facility.

I spend the drive to his mom’s lost in my thoughts. Withdrawals and detoxing were hard, but I've already started putting some weight back on. My cheeks have filled out, making me look more alive. I've been welcomed back into family events at my parents, and they've started letting me take Damian out of the house for walks or lunch on 6th Avenue.

Slowly but surely, I’m weaving myself back into his life.

“My mom promised to be on her best behavior. As long as we’re both looking for work and helping around the house, she won't have any problems with us being there.”

Jake finally says as we pull into the driveway.

To her credit, Tara is nicer than when we met. She helps us carry in our stuff and even cooks a nice meal for us to all sit down and eat together.

“Bianca asked me to come over. She said she wants to apologize and talk,”

Jake tells me after we sit down in the family room after dinner.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Elle. We’ll watch some Survivors and have a girls' night while he's gone.”

Tara smiles at me and starts to turn on the TV.

“I won't be gone long.”

Jake leans over and kisses me before he leaves, not even waiting for me to respond.

Feeling awkward with being alone with his mom, I suffer through the show in silence, and when she says goodnight, handing me the remote, I text Jake asking when he’ll be back. After 10 minutes with no response, I turn the TV off and head to the room.

I wake up just past 8:00 AM, and I reach for Jake, only to find the bed empty beside me. My heart skips a beat. Panic rises in my chest as I sit up, my mind already racing with questions. Where is he? What’s going on?

I stumble out of bed, my feet cold against the floor, and rush toward the kitchen, hoping to find him there. When I step into the room, the scent of brewing coffee hits me—rich and strong—but it’s not Jake I see standing at the counter. It’s his mom.

My stomach drops. The knot in my chest tightens. Where is he? The panic swirls into something darker, angrier, and I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

“Good morning, Elle. We need some eggs for breakfast. Do you mind running to the store for me?”

She hands me her keys before waiting for a response, and I roll my eyes behind her back as I reach out to take them.

“Have you seen Jake this morning?” I ask her

“I haven’t. Maybe he fell asleep at Bianca’s. He’s probably on his way home right now.”

As I'm walking out of the grocery store, I walk past the little teriyaki place attached to it and I hesitate, pausing on the sidewalk as I do a double-take. Bianca laughs, drawing Jake’s attention. He turns, a smile on his face as he looks for whatever made her laugh, but the moment our eyes meet, he quickly drops his gaze and spins away.

It was our first night at his mom's house, and he left me to hang out with his friend, lying to me, staying out all night, and ignoring my texts.

Tara is more than happy to help me get my things together and drive me to Tacoma.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't me. That I was born into a different family, had been a totally different person. Never met all these dickheads that have hurt me. Life is a bitch. Why do I let these guys make me feel so worthless? I wish I had something good to write about, but my life is going nowhere. I'm stuck. I always get stuck.

-elle