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It’s true, I did smoke my first joint with him and try some party drugs, but he isn’t the reason I’m an addict. I’m an addict because I chose to numb myself rather than deal with the repercussions of my abuse.
“Lilah, because of me—”
“Stop. Enough. My addiction issues are not your fault. End of story.”
His eyes flare open from the bite in my tone. “Okay, okay. I won’t bring it up again if it bothers you.”
Here’s what the counselors were talking about. He’s scared to agitate me because he thinks it will send me over the deep end. I hate it just as much as they said I would.
“The only thing that bothers me about it is you thinking I’m here because of you.”
His eyes flick away from mine for a second before meeting my gaze again. “There’re a lot of things I regret.”
I pull him in for a hug. “I know that everything you did for me was out of love. I know that.” A tear trickles down my cheek.
Admitting that someone loves me is as hard as loving myself. Whether or not I think I deserve his love, I know that he’s only ever tried to help. Selling drugs wasn’t just a means to an end for him; it was for my survival and to help get us out of that hellhole.
He sniffs and turns his face into my neck. We stay in one another’s arms, trying to heal from circumstances kids should never have to deal with. We were young and did what we had to in order to survive and free ourselves from abuse. Whether or not it’s genetics that I got hooked and Jimmy didn’t doesn’t matter. Our lives are as entwined as the roots of a large oak tree.
Eventually we pull apart.
“I’m glad you came today. Thank you,” I say.
“You know there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
And with that, we talk about other things. Anything other than our shared past. I find myself wishing that this is how it will be when I’m out of here.
I’ve decided to stay another thirty days. The real world is a scary place, and I’m not sure I’m ready. Whether I’ll be able to handle staying sober once life interferes. Here, I’m focused almost one hundred percent of the time on working on myself. Out there… there’s a job, an apartment, money, food, survival to worry about.
The other part of me wants to stay until I’m as strong as I can be. Because when the world tries to crush me under its enormous weight, I’ll be standing on my own, weathering the storm.
Chapter Thirty-one
JIMMY
The lights of the photo shoot shine down on me, heating my skin. You’d think by now I wouldn’t squint when thousand-watt bulbs are pointed directly in my face, but I still do.
“That’s it, move a little closer to him, Adelaide. Wrap your arm around his waist,” the photographer says in his Australian accent. “Perfect.”
We’re here to shoot some promo for the film. It’s still in editing, but the studio wants to push it well in advance of release.
I don’t know how Lilah did this for a living. It’s arguably one of my least favorite parts of the job.
Just the thought of Lilah makes Adelaide’s arm slung over me feel wrong. But ever since Lilah’s overdose, there’s been no question of something other than friendship between Adelaide and me, and Lilah and I aren’t romantically involved at the moment.
“Great. I want to get some shots of the two of you looking at each other.”
I turn my head down and meet Adelaide’s gaze. She bites her lip to stop from laughing. I told her this morning how much I hate these things and she must see my displeasure on my face. The right corner of her lips quirks up a bit then a bit more, and now I’m biting back a smile. When a short burst of laughter escapes her mouth, I can’t help but laugh back. Soon we’re caught in a laughing fit about nothing specific.
Lilah refers to it as “we’ve got the giggles.”
The thought stops my laughing, and after a couple of seconds, Adelaide stops too.
I swivel my head to search out the photographer behind the blinding lights. “Think we can take a break?”
“Sure thing, mate,” he says, staring at his camera.
“Thanks.”
