Page 34 of Up In Smoke

Well, he obviously didn’t. And I’ve spent so many sleepless nights wondering if that’s because he was making good progress and wanted to keep building on that, or…or it wasn’t workingand he’s had to stay this long to try and rinse every last minute out of this program.

I realize I’m biting my thumbnail and snatch my hand away, shoving it under my thigh. The waiting room where I’m sitting is like a really nice doctor’s reception, with lots of cream and pastel colors. Soothing, ambient music is playing at a low enough level not to disturb anyone but loud enough so it’s not uncomfortably silent. I glance at the woman behind the reception desk, trading a polite smile with her.

“They shouldn’t be too much longer,” she assures me. I’m guessing she caught my sudden movement and has worked out I’m anxious. She probably gets lots of relatives in here anticipating reunions with their loved ones.

Except Jesse isn’t a loved one of mine. He’s simply a friend, one I hardly know at that. Yet on paper we’re married, and my heart doesn’t seem to be getting the memo that it’s not my position to be fretting over him.

Technically, I’m fretting on behalf of Adam, I suppose. We still haven’t actually told him we got married. We agreed to do that after Jesse left rehab, so we knew better where we stood. But I had to at least tell Adam that Jesse has been in rehab so he knew why he couldn’t get ahold of him. That meant me being deliberately vague about the details of how Jesse was able to afford this place, which in turn has limited how much I can talk to my best friend about the situation.

Thankfully, Captain Valentine and the house counselor have been there to help me cling to my sanity. However, there’s only so much I can say to anyone before I outright admit that Jesse and I are committing insurance fraud, so I’ve bottled a lot of my feelings up.

Jesse’s the only other person on the planet who knows the truth, so that’s probably part of why I’m so desperate to see him.

But only part. The rest of it I’m still trying to wrap my head around. It’s almost as if I’ve been missing a limb these past few months and have convinced myself that I won’t be whole again until I see his face and know he’s okay. I guess that’s just my perpetual sense of responsibility convincing me that my life couldn’t possibly be complete unless I have someone to worry over.

Or it could just be Jesse. It’s easy to think of him simply as a problem to be solved, but he’s so much more than that. So much more than his addiction. When it’s not got him in its grip, he’s kind and thoughtful. I saw it in the weeks we lived together at the end of last year. He was always finding chores to do and generally tried to keep the apartment tidy. I know that could have been a combination of guilt and boredom driving him, but I’m not sure that was it. Beneath snark and bravado, I’m certain there’s a caring heart that I like very much.

Plus, he’s funny as hell. I can see how he made it in Hollywood, even if it was only for a short time. His impressions are uncanny, and he’s got an absurd, almost maniacal way of seeing things that cracks me up.

It was probably around Christmas that I finally admitted to myself that I just missed his company. The tense moments became few and far between the longer he stayed and proved how hard he was trying to change. I realized I liked having someone to cook dinner with, and to chat about my day with and to hear about his in return.

Not someone, not anyone. I get that kind of company at work too, after all. I specifically liked sharing my home with Jesse. It’s as if I felt calmed and also exhilarated by his presence at the same time.

Is it going to be like that again now? I genuinely don’t know.

At least I didn’t end up spending Christmas by myself. That was what prompted me to stop denying that marrying Jesse wasonly some obligation I was fulfilling to my best friend. The idea of spending the day all alone made me feel like ignoring the entire holiday, and I practically ached with how much I’d wanted to cook a turkey dinner for him and swap some presents. I did get myself a menorah to light for him during Hanukkah, though, which made me feel like he wasn’t so far away.

Of course, my parents were on a cruise and barely remembered to call on Christmas Day itself. Lucky for me, I wasn’t the only member of the One-Thirteen who found themselves at a loose end on the twenty-fifth. Mrs. Bloom absolutely insisted on hosting me, the captain, Lili and Sawyer, plying us with a truly obscene amount of food and drink until we passed out. I was surprised that Sawyer didn’t spend the day with Anton and the rest of his family, but he shrugged me off saying something about giving them space and gatecrashing someone else for once.

I’m still not entirely sure what to make of that.

But I barely have enough time to worry about all my own issues let alone borrowing trouble from other people, so unless it becomes an issue at work, I’ve promised myself to let it be. And as far as I can tell, there’s no problem between the two best friends. At least not one obvious to me.

I glance at the clock, feeling like I’ve been here for hours, but it’s barely been fifteen minutes. The funny thing is, I feel like I’ve been waiting to see him again ever since the moment I dropped him off here at the facility. You’d think an extra half an hour or whatever wouldn’t bug me, but it’s like I’m losing my mind.

Scrubbing my hand along my jaw, I try not to let my knee bounce as ‘what ifs’ run rampant around my mind. What if Jesse is worse than before? What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he’s not ready to leave? All these reasons could explain why he’s taking so long coming out here and the not knowing is killing me.

It’s like I’ve let him down before we’ve even spoken one word to each other. I’m aware I’m putting too much pressure on myself, and Jesse’s recovery is ultimately up to him. It’s just that no matter how hard I try, I can’t care less. I want him to be happy and succeed as if this was my own journey, not his.

Three months is a long time to reflect on something. Without anyone else to talk to about it, I fear I’ve built up this reunion so much in my mind it can only be a disappointment. I’ve lost all perspective. Logically, I know whatever happens today, I’ll do my best to help Jesse moving forward and ultimately, I can only do so much for him.

Illogically, I feel like if he relapses, it’s going to be because I let him down.

Maybe I’m just exhausted. I’ve been in limbo for months, waiting to find out if this crazy plan of ours was worth it. It isn’t as if work is easy, either. Not that I don’t love the job and the people I do it with. It’s incredibly fulfilling largely because it’s so challenging. But that doesn’t help the fact that since that October day in LA, I’ve been frayed at the edges and on tenterhooks without respite, helpless to alter the outcome in anyway. Subconsciously, I’ve probably fixated on this moment as the end of all that, which isn’t fair on Jesse.

What will be, will be. As long as I keep telling myself that, perhaps I’ll get through the next few hours without completely putting my foot in my mouth.

“Rico?”

I jump to my feet, my heart in my mouth as I spin around.

And there he is.

Jesse.

All the air seems towhooshout of my lungs as I take in his appearance. It’s as if he’s glowing. His skin is clear, and he’s clearly had a trim recently, as his blond hair is looking healthy and fresh. I’d guess he’s put on several pounds, if not more, andthat makes my heart soar to think he’s been eating properly. Maybe even working out as well, judging by the look of his arms as he wraps his hands around the strap of his duffle bag.

It strikes me how grown up he appears. I can see now he’s an adult in his thirties, not that gangly kid I remember for all those years ago. It’s not like I didn’t notice that before, but I think because he was so skinny and in such a bad way mentally, a part of me was still holding onto the ghost of his teenage years.