One Time, Badly Read online

  "When did you start taking the pills again?"

  "Is this necessary?"

  "When?" he rested his head back, defeated, before he responded.

  "I never stopped. I tried to just cut back that week that I spent at home, and it was killing me. I needed more. I felt like I was dying without it, Cee, I had to have it for just a little while longer."

  "Wait, what? You never stopped? I thought your parents were watching you?"

  "They were, but my mom's students had some kind of state testing coming up so she couldn't take too much time off and my dad was working from home, but he was distracted for most of the day. I told him I was getting some fresh air and I just would go around the corner, get what I needed, and come back."

  "Christ, Max."

  "I was trying, Cee. I was taking less for a few weeks, I just couldn't stick to it and I didn't know how to tell everyone and put you guys through all that shit again."

  "Max, this can't happen. You have to really stop now. I'm not kidding. I can't handle this. I haven't even been sleeping."

  "That's why I didn't want to tell you. I know you're more affected than you let on and it’s not fair to you."

  "Are you willing to do this for real now?"

  "I don't think I have a choice."

  "Wrong answer, but you're right. You don't have a choice. We're going to do this my way now. Do you understand?"

  Every inch of his 6 foot 3 inch frame had lost its power. He was so thin, and he looked weaker every day. Especially in this moment. He looked no more than a child as she explained to him that she would be taking the week off from work, as would he. He would not be leaving her apartment and no one was to be buzzed in.

  There wasn't much that she could do to ease his pain, but she would be spending the week focused on making him as comfortable as possible as his body went through the torture of withdrawals. He looked even younger when he simply nodded and pulled out his phone to call his boss, to text his coworkers and ensure that his shifts at the bar would be covered.

  Cecelia took this time to go into the bathroom and splash some cold water on her warm face. She clenched her hands together to stop them from shaking. She wanted to call her mom and hear her say that she was proud and that Cecelia had been brave. She wanted to call Lou and ask if she was able to handle this. Instead, she unclenched her hands and went to lay them on Max's shaking shoulders. She pressed them to his cheeks to catch his tears before they reached his chin.

  "You're ok, Max. Hey, I promise it's going to be all right. You're going to be fine, just let this pass," Cecelia whispered over Max's sweat-soaked head, her whispered breaths sending a wave through his hair.

  She clutched his shaking bones to her chest and tried to steady him against the chills that were wreaking havoc on his body. She was expecting this. The chills, the fever, the vomiting, this was all so normal. This was his body fighting against chemical dependency. This was his body fighting. And this was her fighting too, in the only way she could.

  Day two post-pills was proving to be worse than the first.

  "Cee, I can't do this anymore. I don't think I can take this. I think it's too much. I feel like I'm going to die," she could see the fear in his eyes.

  "It's going to be fine, Max. It's going to be so worth it. You just have to get through the hard part and you'll be like a new person. I promise. I promise, Max." And her voice was shaking and she was feeling the anxiety coursing through her body because what if he wasn't ok? Maybe she should take him to the hospital, or at least call his mom. But that wasn't part of the deal.

  She wanted this to work so badly, and she felt like any interference would jeopardize this opportunity to fix him. It was as if she'd forged this connection with him over the past few days and adding anything else to the mix would break the spell. And, as far as she could tell, this was all normal.

  He didn't seem to be feeling anything that wasn't explicitly stated in the research that Cee had done. If it came to that, she would think of next steps. For now, he was on course. He was in the depths of hell, from what she could tell, but the only way out was through.

  So she stayed strong. She told her parents and her friends that they'd both gotten the flu. She talked her mom out of dropping off soup and gingerale. She kept the lights low and made as little noise as humanly possible. She logged onto her laptop and tried to keep up with work emails as much as she could and she anxiously cleaned her apartment, over and over again.

  She changed the sheets at least twice a day, they were sweat-soaked and stale and it gave her something to do for the long stretches of time that Max was just laying there, dozing or moaning or looking at the wall with that awful expression on his face. As if she'd made him sit through the most boring history lesson in the world, but put hot coals under his feet for the duration.

  For his part, Max acted as she'd expected. He spent his time begging for drugs or forgiveness, begging for forgiveness for begging for drugs. He had no interest in anything. He didn't want the TV on, he didn't want any music playing. He wanted the lights off and the blinds closed. But most of all he wanted painkillers.

  She'd cleared the cabinets of everything, even things that seemed harmless. They had no Advil, no Tylenol, no Midol, not even a cough drop was left at the bottom of the medicine cabinet. The only pills in the apartment were her birth control pills, but she wasn't willing to part with those and there wasn't anything that he could get from them anyway.

  Still, she made sure the case was hidden at all times. No need to bring the thought of prescriptions and all that they entailed to the fore of his mind any more than they already were.

  Cecelia whipped her head around as she heard her bedroom door creak open and Max's slow, heavy footsteps make their way to the bathroom. She'd been sitting on the couch reading a book, but she was pretty sure she was on the same page as yesterday. There was no part of her brain that could focus on the words and string them together.

  She quietly made her way down the hallway, stopping outside the bathroom door and listening for any signs of a problem. He didn’t seem to be gagging so that was good, but she couldn’t hear anything at all which was possibly not good. She would've heard him if he'd fallen over though. Or at least she thought so.

  No, no, she shook her head. There would've been at least a small thud if Max had passed out and that was being generous. The man was well over 6-feet tall, the thud would've been much more than small.

  She gave it a few minutes before she called out to him. There was no response, so she stepped forward and knocked lightly on the door.

  "Max?" she was trying to be mindful of her volume, but she also needed him to hear her. "Is everything ok?"

  Still nothing from the other side of the door.

  Cecelia tried the knob and found it to be unlocked. She slowly pushed open the door and poked her head inside.

  Max was on the floor, back against the wall facing the toilet, legs pulled up to his chest. There were tears running down his face, but he didn't seem to be crying. It was as if it were just happening to him, rather than something that he was consciously doing. He didn't look up as she walked into the bathroom and kneeled down in front of him.

  Cecelia met his eyes, but there was no recognition there. He was staring right through her, unblinking. Cee reached out to him, wrapping her hands around his wrists and squeezing lightly.

  "Max? What's going on? Are you feeling ok?" She reached for his face, pressing her hand against his forehead. He was much warmer than she remembered him being earlier in the day, possibly feverish, but she was desperately trying not to jump ahead of the situation.

  "Can you hear me, Max? Can you feel my hands?" She held his head in her hands, feeling the heat coming off of him and trying to bring him back from wherever his mind was at the moment. He didn't seem to be hallucinating, which would've been a red flag.

  She held her hand to his heart and found it to be beating rapidly.

  "Max, if you can hear me, I'm just going
to grab my phone. I'll be right back, just 10 seconds and I'll be right back."

  Cecelia ran to the living room and grabbed her cell off of the coffee table. She wasn't going to dial 911 just yet, but if Max didn't come to within the next half hour then she thought she might have to.

  From the way he was acting, or not acting, Cee was pretty sure that Max was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack. It seemed to have paralyzed him for the moment, but he would be fine. Or at least well enough to respond to her, even if it was just a nod.

  Cecelia rushed back into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. She let the cool water run over it and rang it out before folding it neatly and putting it to Max's forehead. She lifted it and softly blew cool air on the spot she'd just wet before moving on to his right cheek.

  "You're going to be ok, Max," she kept her voice calm and low. "Just focus on the cold water and the cool air. Just breathe. In and out, you're going to feel so much better. Just a few more minutes."

  There were no longer any tears coming from his eyes, but his pupils were still dilated, his eyes dead. Cecelia moved the cloth to the back of his neck, meeting Max's eyes just inches from his face.

  "Look at me, Max. I'm right here, listen to my voice and look at me. I'm right here."

  Cecelia could feel her own stomach starting to clench, the nerves she'd been fighting off starting to get the better of her.

  "Please, Max. Look at me. I'm right here," she was trying her best not to plead, not to let too much emotion into her own voice. He needed her calm and she would be that for him.

  She let her head drop for just a second, breathing deeply and regaining her composure. When her eyes moved back to Max's face, he was looking back at her.

  "Hey, can you hear me?" she kept the rag at the back of his neck, aware that it had probably grown warm from the heat of his skin by now.

  Max nodded slowly, moving his hand up to rub at his damp face.

  "What am I doing in here, Cee? Did I get sick again?" his voice sounded as if he'd spent the whole day screaming at the top of his lungs, it was that raw. She knew he hadn't spoken more than a few words in the past three days.

  "I don't think so. I heard you get up so I came to see if you were all right and I found you like this. You don't remember getting out of bed?"

  Max shook his head, "I don't."

  "It's ok, you're ok, just a little confusion. It's completely normal," Cecelia stood slowly, placing the washcloth in the sink behind her and reached her hands down towards Max. "Come on, let's get you back to bed."

  Cecelia found the sheets to be sweat soaked, so she did a quick swap before letting Max crawl back in. It was getting late and she was exhausted from the past few days. She knew that she wouldn't get much sleep, but she wanted to at least try.

  She'd been sleeping on the couch, giving Max some space and banking on the fact that, while he could possibly sneak out of bed quite easily, it would be harder for him to unchain and open the heavy door to her apartment without her hearing if she were out here.

  Tonight, though, she thought she might lay with him for a while. There was something about the look on his face as he pulled the covers closer to his chest. She didn't want him to be alone, and she certainly didn't want to be far from him after what had just happened.

  She crawled into the bed, the fresh sheets giving a false sense of tranquility, and curled into him as the tears began to fall from her eyes. And he didn't reach for her, he couldn't even look at her, he just whispered. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. And there were tears rolling from his eyes, too, she noticed.

  Cecelia reached her arms above her head in a deep stretch, stifling a yawn and opening her eyes against the weak slivers of light coming through the blinds in her bedroom. She'd fallen asleep after all and, from the looks of it, spent the entire night dead to the world. She glanced over at Max, checking to see if he'd had as restful a night as she did, but the spot beside her was empty.

  Cecelia slammed her feet to the floor, rushing out of her room and into the bathroom. The door cracked loudly against the wall as she swung it open, but there was no sign of him there. How could she be so stupid? She should've just gone back to the couch when she felt her eyes drifting shut.

  As she rounded the corner into her small living room, she found Max sound asleep in the spot where she'd spent the past two nights. He was wearing the same clothes he'd been in last night and his shoes were nowhere in sight. She leaned over to check his breathing before heading back into her bedroom.

  His sneakers and jacket were in the same spot they'd been since he came over three days ago, thrown haphazardly near her closet. It didn't look like he'd snuck out, but she wouldn't know for sure until she talked to him. Even then, he would never admit to it. Cecelia could feel tears of frustration biting at her eyes. If the past three days had been for nothing she'd lose it.

  Max didn’t wake up for four hours and, while Cecelia was happy that he was getting some much needed rest, all it did was give her time to think up a million worst case scenarios in her mind.

  He snuck out in the middle of the night to buy drugs. He knew she'd check his things, so he called his dealer and had him come over here, which then meant a drug dealer had her address. He ran downstairs in his t-shirt and boxers to meet his dealer at the apartment complex door, effectively letting all of her neighbors know what was going on. She shook her head.

  She'd taken the opportunity go through his phone while he slept and found nothing incriminating on it. Didn't mean he hadn't deleted the call or text, but Cee had no evidence and no reason to think that Max had even tried anything. But why was he out here and would he really pass up the opportunity to get a quick fix while Cecelia slept?

  Cecelia settled herself in the cozy armchair across from the couch that Max was on, just waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to wake up. It took forever, but when he finally cracked his eyes open it was to find Cecelia peering expectantly at him from across the room. As if he'd fallen asleep mid-question and she'd waited all this time for his answer.

  "Cee?" his voice was garbled from sleep and exhaustion and probably a million other things.

  "Why are you on the couch, Max? Why didn't you just stay in the bed?" She knew she sounded a bit unhinged, but who could blame her? She was beginning to crack under the pressure of this whole ordeal and the past few hours had done a world of damage to an already weak foundation.

  "I puked in the bed, Cee," Max seemed confused by his own statement. "Didn't I? I remember waking up to throw up near my face. I think it was mostly on my pillow so I threw that in the tub, but there's definitely a little bit on the sheets too. I didn't want to wake you up, though. I know you needed the sleep."

  Cecelia didn't respond to him. She checked the bathroom, noting the pillow she hadn't noticed before and the foul smell that accompanied it. She'd brushed her teeth in here and everything. If she weren't so worried about Max, she would seriously be doubting her own sanity right now.

  Sure enough, there were a few small spots of vomit on Max's side of the bed. Not enough to smell up the room, but enough that she'd need to wash the sheets and scrub at the mattress a bit. Maybe she should run out and grab one of those plastic mattress covers that parents use for bed wetters, that was sure to boost Max's confidence. Cecelia laughed to herself at that. Yes, she was definitely losing her mind in here.

  Cecelia stripped the bed and went back to the living room, where Max didn’t seem to have moved an inch.

  "Did you do anything else last night, Max?" She felt like she'd found lipstick on the color of his shirt and was trying to corner him into a confession. But, she figured, if he did sneak out last night then that was just the same as cheating on her.

  Max looked thoughtful for a second.

  "After I threw up, I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and then I had some water. I think I walked around the living room a few times, just to stretch my legs a little. I haven't really been using them lately. It felt nice to move around
, but then I felt bad again and really tired, so I laid down on the couch. And now we're here."

  "That's it? Just some water and a walk."

  "Cecelia, I didn't go anywhere else. I promise you. I thought of it, but I didn’t do it. I wanted to, but I swear that I didn’t," he looked so sincere, but she never could be sure.

  "Please don't lie to me, Max," she hoped he could tell how sad it made her to speak to him this way, that she got no pleasure from asking these questions.

  "I'm not, I know you have no reason to trust me, but I didn't do anything. I don't even know where my phone is right now."

  "I hope for your own sake that you're telling the truth, Max," she stood from the chair she'd taken. "This sucks for me, I know that you know that, but it’s your life on the line, not mine."

  Max nodded solemnly before lying back down and stretching out along the couch. He was asleep again within minutes.

  Day four seemed to be the turning point, which was on par with most of what Cecelia had read. Max seemed to be doing okay. He wasn't in any visible pain and his demeanor had changed drastically from the night before. He even smiled at her a little when she brought some toast and Gatorade into bed for him to snack on. And that half smile made her heart jump.

  She'd been so focused and so very stressed that she hadn't really thought about what it would be like when things started to smooth out for them. To her, that quirk of his lips may very well be the beginning of their future.

  Because, yes, they'd been together for over three years at this point and, yes, they were as fully committed as any other couple she knew, but the past week had changed things. It was the most intense thing she'd ever been through and they'd done it together. She'd stayed strong for him and he'd stuck it out for her. There was a maturity in this whole experience that she hadn't seen coming. And, hell, if that didn't bring a new warmth to her heart.

  And so, very tentatively, she suggested a movie. And very softly, Max said sure. And Cecelia took that opportunity to snuggle into Max's side and drape her arm across his stomach just because she finally could. The horror had passed and, though there was still work ahead, she would allow herself this moment to breathe.