Page 38 of Up In Smoke
“But—” I try and protest.
“Jesse,” he interrupts again. However, he still sounds patient. Fond, even. “Adam is sending me a monthly allowance for you. He might not have been able to cover your rehab again, and he certainly doesn’t know all the facts right now. But he has a great job, and he cares deeply about you. So don’t stress about those costs. When you’ve found work, then we can talk about splitting the bills at a fair ratio. But until then, that can just be one thing less to worry about, all right?”
For several seconds, I just stare at him, and then down into my lap. I’m completely overwhelmed. This is the kind of break I’ve dreamed of being given for years. But I was never foolish enough to think it would actually happen. It seems too good to be true.
That’s Rico all over, though, isn’t it?
I rub my face and take a breath before offering him a weak smile. “You’re going to get sick of me saying this. But thank you. A million times. You really are my guardian angel.”
He looks bashful and lost for words. I hope I haven’t embarrassed him or crossed a line. So I push on with the other thing I have to say to him.
“We talked a lot at the center about how important reparations are,” I explain. “So, Rico? I’m really sorry I thought about stealing and selling your car. You’d shown me nothing but kindness, and that was a really shitty thing to do.”
He frowns at me. “I know that, Jesse. It’s water long under the bridge.”
“I’m aware,” I say, nodding. “But it’s just important for me to say the words to you.”
His smile is full of understanding. “In that case, thank you for apologizing. You’re completely forgiven.”
I swallow, appreciating how right my therapists were. There’s something transcendent about making amends.
“Right,” Rico says, slapping his thighs. “Enough loitering in the parking garage when we have a perfectly good apartment to loiter in. I don’t know what you were thinking of for the rest of the day, but I’ve got plenty of food in.”
He gets out of the car as he finishes talking, so I copy him, heading toward the trunk to retrieve my bags. “Um, loitering with lots of food sounds amazing,” I confess. “But I wouldn’t mind going for a run before that. Fitness has become a seriously important part of my routine.”
It doesn’t hurt that now I’m not pumping myself full of crap and working out on purpose, my body has already transformed from genetically lucky to actually fucking hot, if I do say so myself. My therapists assured me that a little vanity is a good thing if it’s going to motivate me to keep healthy.
Rico opens the trunk then looks at me before reaching for my luggage. “Would you like some company? I could show you one of my trails depending on how far you wanted to go.”
My heart catches in my throat. If he doesn’t stop being so kind and thoughtful, he might actually kill me.
“That would be awesome,” I tell him breathlessly.
“Then sofa surfing this evening?” he asks, actually sounding hopeful that I’d want to chill out with him. “I’ve been hanging back on watching some TV shows in case you wanted to binge them together. I’m off tomorrow as well, so I don’t have any pressure to get up in the morning.”
I’m determined not to cry again, even though I’ve still got some tears lingering on my lashes. “That sounds really fun,” I tell him sincerely. I don’t want to throw my routine out of the window by any means. But I can start job hunting tomorrow. Anight off vegging in front of the tube seems an appropriate way to quietly celebrate my first day out of rehab.
“Come on,” he says, hauling my bag out and locking his car. “Let’s get you settled in, then we can change and go running. Would 5K be enough or would you prefer longer?”
“No, that sounds perfect for today,” I assure him as I follow him into the complex. I’d normally take the stairs as his place is only on the fourth floor, but as he’s got my case and we’re shortly going to exercise, I don’t object as he guides us into the elevator.
We ride in comfortable silence and then make the brief walk down the corridor to his door. “I’ve got you a set of keys,” he says as he lets us inside, and my heart flips yet again. First the car insurance? And now he’s casually telling me I’ve already got my own keys?
The trust he’s putting in me is unwarranted, but I’m determined to earn it as soon as possible.
It’s strange coming back into a space that I already know inside and out, but this time trying to convince myself that it’s now ‘home.’ It’s difficult for me to believe I have somewhere safe like Rico said, but hopefully I’ll believe it soon enough. The people I worked with at the center were very clear that if I feel stable, I’ll be much less likely to relapse.
But it’s not the walls of this apartment that are telling me that I’m secure.
It’s Rico.
He walks me to the spare room—officially my room now I guess—and hands me my bag. “I hope you like it. Adam helped me.”
I’m not sure what he means until I step across the threshold and stop, my jaw dropping.
He’s redecorated.
Before, this was a very pleasant neutral space that could have been a hotel room. Now, the plain navy bedspread hasbeen replaced with sunny yellow and white sheets. The chest of drawers has been stained a richer, warmer brown, as have the nightstands either side of the bed. There are new lamps, a free-standing mirror, and a gauzy curtain over the blinds that makes me think of the beach. The whole room has a light and breezy feel to it which immediately makes me feel at ease.