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“Of coursh,” I slur. He cocks an eyebrow. I try again. “Of coursh.”
He shakes his head. “Night, dude. Sleep it off.”
I creep through the house, but I realize I’m not creeping when I slam my foot into an ottoman in the living room.
“Summabitch,” I curse at it.
“Pax?” Mila stands in the doorway in one of my t-shirts. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah, babe,” I assure her. “I’m sorry to wake you up.”
She eyes me. “Oh lord. You and Gabe did a number on yourselves.”
I start to apologize, but she holds up a hand. “Lord knows, you needed to blow off some steam. Let’s get you to bed. Do you feel like throwing up yet?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I don’t throw up.”
I am, of course, vomiting within the hour. I make it to the bedroom, and I retch into the toilet, and by now, I can feel my ribs again. The pain is excruciating every time I heave.
“Fuck.” I wipe off my mouth, then brush my teeth before I head back to bed.
Something bothers me, but I can’t put my finger on it. Something, something niggles at me. But I put it out of my mind and fall back to sleep.
Whiskey makes sleep restless, though. I wake again a few hours later, when it is still dark outside.
There’s a gnawing feeling in my gut and I think on it for a minute.
It’s familiar, and my mind is fuzzy.
I wake up enough to focus.
It’s a hunger, but I’m not hungry.
There’s an ache in my body, a need for something, something black, something hateful. In my sleep, I had tasted it in my mouth, the bitterness of cocaine, the sweetness of heroine, and I swallow hard. My hand shakes, and I swear to God it’s on my tongue, smeared on my teeth, causing my heart to pound out of my chest.
Only it’s not.
It was a dream.
For the first time in years, I’m dreaming about drugs.
Son of a bitch.
The knowledge slams into me, hard and fast.
I sit up and grab my water glass from the nightstand, gulping the fresh liquid down, trying to drown out the remnants of a taste I haven’t had in so long.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Why would I be craving that shit now?
“Pax?”
Mila’s voice is small and clear in the dark, like a bell, and she reaches for me. “You ok?”
“Yeah, babe,” I lie. I can’t tell her what I’m craving. She’d be devastated and worried, and she doesn’t need that. It’s the first secret I’ve kept from her. It’s not something I take lightly.
“Hold me.” Mila snuggles up against me, her body slight and soft. Her arm reaches around and pulls me back, into the bed, next to her.
