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I got punched over her. I remember that. It's foggy, but the first time I saw her I think I did something because Knuckles punched me in the face the next day and told me to keep my hands off his woman. I can't imagine I would've tried something with her. I haven't touched a woman since Lay died. "I know who you are," I say, forcing the shocked look off my face.
"My mom’s an addict."
I grind my teeth. Of course they sent her in here to talk to me. "I'm sorry to hear that. Tell the guys you did a great job and you've scared me off drugs forever. I'm reformed."
"They aren't here. Knuckles told me to stay away, but I don't care."
No one's home? So much for Doc's imprisonment. If I can get the kid out of my face I can get upstairs. "Why are you here, jailbait?"
Maya rolls her eyes. "You aren't going to hurt me with a snide remark or a nickname. I'm a little tougher than that. I'm here because I want to talk. As much as I hope this is beneficial for you, I also have my own selfish reasons."
"What do you want?"Tell me what I have to do to get you away from me.
"I want to know why,” she says matter-of-factly. “Why do you put that shit in your nose knowing it could kill you? Why don't you-"
"My wife's dead. Happy?"
Maya bristles, immediately growing frustrated.Good."You think we haven't all been through shit?"
"What could you have been through, kid? Daddy didn't give you lunch money and you had to eat a PB and J?"
She stands up and leans over me, pressing so close her nose almost touches mine. "You are covered in road rash, and I’m hormonal and pregnant. I suggest you speak to me with respect."
"What are you gonna do to me? Tattle on me?"
Maya, the evil ice queen, lays her hand against my injured hip and I growl through clenched teeth as the stinging pain rockets through me. She removes her hand, returns to her seat, and immediately begins talking while I reclaim my breath. "My mom overdosed when I was young, and then she disappeared. My papa beat me for years because of her leaving. So, I want to know why. Why would you do drugs that do nothing but hurt? They aren't healing you from your grief; they’re prolonging it. You're going to be suffering as long as you draw it out."
I chuckle at her. She thinks she knows so much about what I’m going through, but she has no idea. This pain is bigger than anything else. This pain has swallowed me whole and the only thing left now is this shell I can’t seem to kill. "I'd be suffering without it. Why not have a little fun?"
"You're an arrogant prick." She starts to stand, but then sits back down, staring at the stairs and away from me. "I am sorry about your wife. I never met her but… I’m sure she was amazing. You have to let yourself grieve. The pain will last forever until you do."
"I don't think it's going away," I mumble quietly, turning my head away from her to stare at the wall. Is it weak that I can't make eye contact with her? Layla was amazing. Layla was wonderful. Missing her would kill anyone, and it’s definitely killing me.
"She'll always be with you in your memories, but she's gone, Tree. You have to look that pain in the eyes and face it down every day. You think you're doing what you have to to survive it, but in a few years- if you live that long- you'll have to fight like hell to undo the damage you're doing now. You aren't doing yourself any favors, and you sure as hell aren't having any fun, no matter what you tell yourself."
It's silent between us for a long time, while I digest what she's said. She's probably right, but it's a lot easier to discount her because of her age than it is to accept what she's saying. I don't have any reason to put all that work in. "I keep waiting for it to get easier, but it doesn't,” I admit to the wall. “Every day it's the same thing over and over. I wake up in an empty bed looking for her. I spend my whole day thinking I see her out of the corner of my eye and I get so happy for a split second that it really was just a bad dream. I turn to her so I can tell her all about it and she's not there. I hear her voice in my head all day long, talking to me. The only way to get her to stop is to get high. I can't stand hearing her and not being able tofeelher. I just want to hold her one more time."
"It hurts. It's painful. That's why it's called grief and not something happy, but it won't get better until you deal with it." Maya sounds genuine, and that pisses me off.
That doesn’t even sound possible. "How the hell would a person even do that? How do you take all that pain and face it?"
"You just have to let yourself feel it."
I scoff and swing my head over to make eye contact. Her advice is to do something completely unreasonable and likely deadly. "Right. I'm sure that seems a lot easier for you than it actually is. The pain almost kills me everyday. The only thing that makes it bearable-"
"It's not supposed to be bearable,” Maya interrupts. You have to fight back anyway."
"Get out. Just get away from me." I can’t take this conversation anymore. I need to get high.
"I'm not going to let you die. I know you don't know me, but-"
"That's great, jailbait, but I need you to go." Just leave me here so I can die in peace.
“Wake up, baby,” Layla whispers in my ear. “It’s time to get up.”
“Mmm… Why?” I don’t think I have anything to do today. I can’t remember though. I’m so exhausted.
“You can’t sleep all day, sleepyhead,” she sings. “Come on. Let’s go to the lake. We haven’t been there in so long.”
