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“I missed you too.”
I relish the simple fact that I can touch her again, feel her, that she’s here with me, living and breathing. I know the statistics. Most addicts relapse. But hope blooms inside me like a small seedling bending toward the sun.
When we pull apart, her eyes glisten, but tears never fall. “Come over here and sit.” She leads me by the hand to the oversized chaise she was sitting on.
The novel she was reading is discarded to the side. I don’t think I’ve seen Lilah read a book since we were young. Thinking back, I don’t think I’ve seen her pick up a book since before…
Shaking my head to purge that thought, I sit beside her. “Are you reading again?”
Her cheeks flush. “Yeah. It’s one of the few activities we can do here with our free time.” She shrugs. “I forgot how much I like escaping into other worlds.”
I wrap her hand between mine. Now that I’m near her again, the impulse to touch her is too much for me to ignore. “What have you been doing here?”
“The first couple of weeks were tough. Physically. I never want to go through withdrawal again. They’re getting easier, but it’s a different game now. It’s mental.” Her lips tip down at the corners.
I squeeze her hand. “That’s okay. You can do it.”
She exhales a rough breath. “I’m trying. I really am.”
“I’m so proud of you. I can’t say that enough.”
“I do, I do know that. To be honest, I came here because you believed in me.” She lets a sad sort of laugh escape. “I’m trying to make myself proud now. Believe in myself.”
I hoped for so long to hear her say words like that, and I can’t help but do a happy dance inside. All the times I thought she’d die and never understand who she could be without the drugs… “How is it going here? How’s therapy?”
She pushes her hair behind her ears. “Excruciating.”
I frown.
“It’s okay. The first few weeks, I wasn’t willing to really open up. You know, go as deep as they want you to. But they helped me understand that if I was here, I might as well do the work. I’m tired of hurting all the time. And this process is painful—more than that really—but I keep telling myself that once I’m on the other side of it, it’ll be easier to resist the urge to use again. I’ll be able to stop self-medicating.”
This is a whole new Lilah. One I’ve never known.
“That’s great, Lilah, really.”
“Enough about me. Tell me about what’s going on in the real world. How is filming going?” She crosses her legs and wiggles to get more comfortable.
She’s never really asked about my day, and when she did, there was no eagerness to hear the details.
“We just wrapped actually. I think it’s going to turn out well.”
“You’re going to be an A-lister soon… just remember the little people.” She smiles and giggles. Is she genuinely worried I’d leave her behind?
I cup her face. “I’m never going to forget you, you know that.”
Her shoulders sag in relief. “Guess you’re stuck with me then.”
“Guess so.”
Our gazes hold for a moment before I let my hand drop.
We chat for a bit about what else is going on in the world, mostly mundane stuff, before a man pops his head into the library.
“Lilah, group session is starting in a few minutes,” he says.
“Okay.” Sadness blankets her features.
“Guess I have to go.”
