I lived through my first day of sophomore year, so i decided to give myself a few moments to write. I must be in a crying mood or something, because i was crying while writing this. Kind of ridiculous, but hey, we're all allowed a few moments every once in a while for a few tears, right?
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Kal
The waitress brought us two more beers and Greyson just sort of looked into his for a while, played around with the bottle a bit, just for something to do with his hands. I watched as those hands twisted the green bottle this way and that. I stayed silent, waiting for him to start in his own time. I glanced at my phone for the time. Or, waited five minutes for him to start and if he didn't by then, I was going to make him because the pizzeria closed in thirty-five minutes. Three minutes later he started talking.
"When I was three we moved here from Australia. My dad, my mom, me, and my twin, Anabelle," he told me. That explained his dad's slight accent, but I had to wonder, how does one hide a twin for an entire month and a half? "Eight years ago, when we were ten, our parents divorced. We all lived in LA at the time. Mom got Anabelle, Maximus got me. We would trade off visits, Anabelle and I, and we were still going to the same school and all.
"In high school, my freshman year, I became good friends with a couple shadier figures at school. I was kind of a scrawny freshman so they were guys who could protect me and all. One day they were all smoking a joint and they asked me if I wanted a hit. I said yes, wanting to fit in. Then a couple weeks later I was a total pot-head with the rest of my crew. A couple months later I was getting into serious drugs. Acid, speed. My favorite, though, was heroin. Not too major, but it was worse than pot. I stopped playing sports and started working so I could pay for my drugs without telling my dad." He stopped for a moment and clenched his fists on the table.
"That went on for a year and a half maybe. Then some Aussie guy, Charlie, came over and started dealing heroin in the local park. He never did it himself. The guy won't touch drugs except to sell. He became my usual dealer and we got to talking. Four months after I met him, Charlie put me in rehab." I gave him a quizzical look.
"A drug dealer?" Grey let out a small laugh, but I could see tears swelling up in his eyes. I waved my credit card to the waitress to pay for our pizza, my beer, and the six beers Greyson had managed to inhale through his monologue thus far. He grabbed my card out of my hand and slipped his black one into it instead. The waitress took it and walked off. We just sat there looking at each other while the waitress put our bill on the card. She came back a moment later and handed Greyson his card. We got up and I started rummaging around in Greyson's pockets. He pulled away quickly.
"What the hell?" he snapped.
"I don't think you should drive," I told him. "So hand over the keys." He did with some reluctance and we got into his shiny new BMW. When we were driving I prompted him,
"Go on." I had a feeling this was something he had to tell someone, and I was interested.
"Well, I was in rehab for three months. It was like being thrown in hell. No drugs. No alcohol." Shit, he was an alcoholic and I'd given him alcohol! He must have seen the worry on my face because he let out a short laugh. "No, I'm not an alcoholic. It was just, it kind of numbed the pain of not having a fix. But it was basically a month strait of shakes, limbs aching, vomiting. Then a month of feeling so weak I could barely drag myself out of bed. And finally a month of healing. Rehab is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Then I got out. That wasn't too long ago, just a couple months before I got here." I was shocked. I supposed it made sense.
"And the call?" I asked.
"Promises Rehabilitation. Anabelle is in for heroin.," his voice was dull and almost clinical. For the first time since I'd met him, I felt a pang of sympathy for Greyson Beaumont. I'd taken him for a spoiled rich boy (and he was) but he was also someone who had struggled. And was struggling.
"Do you ever still want, you know..." he laughed a short, non-amused laugh.
"A fix? Every second of every day."
"Is Anabelle going to be okay?" Greyson nodded.
"Yeah, she's in rehab for a couple more months, then I'm bringing her here." We were at my house. I looked over at Grey. His coloring was horrible. No blood in his cheeks, pale, chalky lips. He needed a drink. Something strong, probably. His sea-green eyes, barely illuminated by my porch light, were still over bright as though he were holding back tears.
"Wanna come in for a drink?" I asked him. "You look like you could use some coffee laced with brandy." Greyson nodded and we went into the house together.
Greyson
Kalshan had made us coffee and laced mine. I didn't know if hers was, but I knew the extra shot was helping. We were curled up on a love seat outside together, our knees touching. I felt slightly awkward and embarrassed, but somehow better. I'd never talking about it before and talking had helped. So had Kalshan not judging. Her opinion of me didn't change because she found out I'd done drugs. Not that her opinion had been very high of me before, but it was good that it hadn't gone down. She leaned over and rested her chin on her knees. I copied the gesture so our foreheads were touching.
We'd been closer before. Just that morning, in fact, but somehow this felt so much more intimate. Her lips parted and started trembling slightly, leading me to believe she felt it too. I put my cup on the ground without really moving and moved Kal's as well. We just sat there for a few minutes, looking at each other. Of all the girlfriends I'd had, I'd never done that. Just looked at someone. Kalshan picked up her hand and rested it lightly on my cheek. Then, looking at her, all the pain I'd been feeling for so long bubbled over and the tears started falling.
I hadn't cried since I was a toddler. I'd always been told it was unmanly to cry. But I couldn't hold back tears. I was hurt and I was scared and I was scarred. It felt so good to cry. Kalshan held my face in her hands and made quiet shushing sounds as though I were a young child to be calmed. Perhaps in that moment I was. After a few minutes of silently crying the water-works slowed and finally stopped. She dried my cheeks gently with her hands.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked quietly. I nodded my forehead against hers. I wasn't feeling up to words yet. We still didn't move. My gaze lowered to her lips. Her perfect, full lips. Then back up to her eyes which were also moving up- from my lips. We both smiled a bit. A few more fleeting glances. Then I couldn't take it. I leaned forward a bit and kissed her. Not with seduction in mind as I usually did, but comfort. It was comforting to be kissed by her on the back porch with our coffee sitting at our feet and the moonlight in our hair.
