Even When The Fire Went Out

 Triggers: Swearing and Drug Abuse

  Nothing Compares 2 U was playing on the radio. I should’ve taken it as a bad sign, but I let Sinead foretell my life. I was parked next to a MacDonald’s, smoking a cigarette waiting for him to show up. To say I was surprised Christopher answered his phone on the third ring- the first time I called, was an understatement. His M.O. was usually not picking up or it letting it go straight to voicemail. Then I would have to go down the list of cringe-worthy contacts- work, family, sponsor, hospitals. At least this time I was not on a witch hunt for every crack house within a thirty-mile radius, banging on the doors looking for him, trying to make him leave, begging him to save his soul. It was getting harder for me to believe he even had one anymore. 

    It was a long day, and despite it being the early evening, the sun was hot and blaring. Earlier, I sat in front of the mother of the child I was babysitting for, listening to her about how Chris asked for a hundred dollars the day before for more paint supplies. Anna hired him to paint her house, and it seemed to be going well. His parents were her neighbors and had got me the job of watching her disabled son, Michael for a few hours a week after school. Her and I had developed a familial relationship over the course of two years.

    He told her he just needed to run to the hardware store and that he’d be right back. He always said he would be right back. This time though, Christopher showed how he was working on crossing every moral line there was, when it came to his addiction. My on again/off again boyfriend was not the usual drug addict. Yes, he lied, and hurt a lot of people. He never stole though. Especially, not from a single mom with a mentally and physically disabled son, I wanted to crawl under a rock and die when she told me.

    “I’m sorry,” I said, ready to burst into tears.

    “No,” Anna said. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that my house is now half yellow and half lime-green.”

    When I looked up, I found her wearing a wobbly smile, shrugging her shoulders. Shaking my head, I laughed trying not to sob and jump into her arms. Not only was she calm, but she was being funny and forgiving.

    God, Chris was really becoming a scumbag. I hated thinking that. I hated feeling that. I watched him work his way up from rock bottom to conquer mountain after mountain for two years. He got honest, went to meetings, showed up, and did the next right thing. But for the last two years, Chris was starting to struggle. Everything in his life was working and coming together, and that’s when everything started to fall apart. In and out of the rooms, thirty days sober here, ninety days there, arrests, rehab, and us breaking up and making up more times than I could count. Our friends and family were becoming concerned and frankly bored with our drama-filled saga.

    The first time he had relapsed, my sponsor said I didn’t have to leave him. If he was willing to start over and do the work, then he had one more chance. But that was it. That was over two years ago, and obviously I did not listen. The first few times I would call her or anyone who would sacrifice their time to hear me cry and vent. I just stopped talking about it. I knew what I needed to do, I just didn’t care anymore.

    Sinead handed the mic over to Bono singing With or Without You and that’s when I punched the radio off. The sun was starting to set, and I was starting to lose my patience. Three cigarettes later, I heard his rattling muffler of his little green pickup truck enter the parking lot. He didn’t look terrible, but he didn’t look amazing either. Dried sweat was caked across his forehead. His once bright blue eyes that always reminded me of a clear sky, were dull and lifeless. His face that was always a golden tan, was almost ghostly and sallow. People used to call him my bulldog, because of his huge shoulders and Marine-like stature. Now he looked weak, the weight just burning off. My Christopher was fading away more and more from the man he worked so hard to be.

    He got out of his truck walking to me with his tail between his legs. I could already see him working his puppy eyes and pouty lips. The rage that was storming inside of me kept my face stoic and my body stiff. I didn’t know if I wanted to hug him or run him over with my Jeep.

    “Hey,” he said quietly, not able to look at me.

    “Hi,” I said loud and brusque. “Are you high now?”

    He shook his head and mentally I bet myself a million dollars that the next words coming out of his mouth were going to be…

    “I’m sorry.”

    Jackpot!

    “Oh, are you?” I didn’t even let him reply. “Are you sorry that you almost cost me my job?” I kept my sunglasses on because I could not bear to give him direct eye contact. “You sank pretty low this time, Chris. I mean, really? You stole money from a single mom with a disabled kid? For what? A tiny of bag of crack? I mean you went from spending three thousand dollars in a fucking day on it, and this is what’s getting you off now? A hundred bucks?”

    I was angry, but my voice was low. I took off my sunglasses and lowered my head to meet his eyes. We were both broken, but I wasn’t letting this go. Not this time. Christopher on the other hand, thought this would just get swept under the rug and forgotten. Like every other time before. He lifted his head up, making me look up at him. This is what he did, whether he knew it or not. Trying to be the bigger person, literally and figuratively. Manipulative.

    “I still want to go to your cousin’s wedding.”

    Now that surprised me. My eyes blinked a few times before I realized what the hell he meant. I had been so consumed with him being on a run for over a day, that I had completely forgot about the family wedding I was in. The big rush of adrenaline that I was feeling to take control of the situation, completely left me body and I was deflated. My family was Italian, and when it came to weddings it got serious. Not The Godfather serious (ok, maybe a little Godfather serious) but it was in three days. You didn’t RSVP to a wedding with a date and then come alone without any consequences. You certainly did not drop your plus-one three days before the wedding. I mean, I was a bridesmaid. My family loved Christopher, whether we were together or not. And this time we were not together, but we planned to be for the wedding. We broke up for the hundredth time right before her engagement party at my aunt’s house, and I made a scene just by isolating myself from the family reading a book. My cousin and I were the only girls in the family left to be married. Would you want to go by yourself? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

    The man though, that I thought would be my eventual best friend forever in life, looked like he was about to burst into dust. Vampire of vitality at night, couldn’t handle the comedown in the sunlight. Crack was sucking the life out of him.

    My hands gripped the open window so tight they started to ache. I literally pushed the words out, or they would have stayed stuck in my throat like they always did. I couldn’t do it anymore. I wasn’t raised to beg a man to pick me first. Just leave.

    “No,” I said.

    He slowly blinked. “What?”

    “No, you’re not coming to Shelley’s wedding.”

    If I could have taken a picture of Christopher’s face in that moment, I would have. Eyes squinted, eyebrows scrunched with complete confusion.

    I never said “NO” to him before. He wasn’t used to not being allowed to come back in yet.

    I made ultimatums. Deals. Promises. But I never held him to them. I always gave in and took him back.

    “What do you mean “no”?,” he asked. “I want to go. Dance with you. Make it up to you. What are you going to tell them?”

    Good question.

    “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

    “Janie,” he said. “I want to go. I’ll pay Anna back. I’m sorry!” Those baby blues were starting to water, but I was starting to become immune to them. God, I was so angry and exhausted. Why couldn’t it just work? Why was I not worth more than a high that didn’t last forever? We were supposed to last forever.

    “Can I ask you something?”

    He shrugged his shoulders. “Depends what you ask.” Of course, God-forbid he would be willing to lay everything on the line for me.

    “Do you love me?”

    “Yes. Of course, I do.” He was shaking his head, not believing I was even asking him that. And I believed him. I never not believed him when he told me he loved me. I knew it was the drugs that were taking him away from me. They were the mistress I could never compete with.

    “Do you love me more than the crack?”

    His eyes dropped to the ground between us. Answers came easy for Chris, but I knew I had one up on him with this one. It was the first time I had ever asked him that. And I knew no matter what he said, it wasn’t going to be what I wanted to hear. It was what he didn’t say, that confirmed I was feeling. What I was knowing.

    “Don’t ask me,” he pleaded.

    I came back quick.

    “I already did. Answer me, Christopher.”

    The sun was already down casting a heavy shadow on his face. Tears were turning his face red and splotchy.

    “Please,” he whispered. His hands covered mine and squeezed. “Please, don’t ask me that,” he begged.

    He pressed his head on our hands, shoulders starting to shake from his quiet sobbing. The man was ten years older than me, but in that moment, he was a child. A little boy who was so lost and didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to leave him. I didn’t want him to feel abandoned. His family gave up on him. That’s what I was fighting myself with for the last two years. I didn’t want to be like everyone else and turn my back on him. But he walked away a long time ago. He threw away years of hard work and pissed all over his life that was truly becoming a fairy tale. He gave his magic. How many times can you tell a person they deserve happiness before you become sick of yourself repeating the same thing over and over again?

    “You’re giving me your answer. You think you’re not, but you’re telling me you love that shit more than you love me. You know that, right?”

    Head just constantly shaking, he finally started to nod.

    “Its ok,” I said softly, my voice starting to waver from the strength it seemed to have before. “I want you to be honest. I can’t take the lying anymore. Its ok if you feel like that. You need help, but I can’t do this. I won’t.”

    Taking a very shaky and heavy breath, I looked away and started my car.

    “Janie, no,” he started. I refused to look back. I would have given in. Ii would have said its ok, everything’s alright. I forgive you. We would have gone to the wedding, pretending and fake promising that ours was next. That we had hope and a concrete future. But I knew that foundation we worked so hard on, and built so many amazing memories on, was weak and starting to crumble. Christopher picked at a crack in the wall and just drove that axe in, He couldn’t help it, and I couldn’t even blame him. We met in AA, so I knew his struggle, his pain. I had my own and that’s why I couldn’t stay and watch him tear everything down. I was going to be right there with him, digging the hole deeper. I crawled out once, and I wasn’t going to bury myself again. I was just enabling him at that point. His addiction was taking over my life.

    I was told once, sometimes when we let go, we leave claw marks. And as hard as it was to do the same with him, I was letting go. Our relationship had literally become the definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over again, trying to get different results. I was letting go, maybe with flesh under my nails but none the less I was loosening my grip.

    Once I felt far away from him, I pulled over. Even I couldn’t take myself Banshee-waling anymore and decided to turn that Devil radio on again. Heart of Gold by Neil Young came on and I screamed.

    Did I know in that moment if we were really done for good? I cried so many times before saying it was going to be different and it never was. But our lives shifted when he decided to say screw it no matter the cost. He didn’t know that even though my heart was breaking into a million pieces, I knew this time how to put it back together. Without him. I wasn’t pressing REPEAT anymore.