Close, But No Cigar


I didn’t get out of bed for the rest of the night.

I didn’t bother getting up or cleaning myself off, or even brushing the fur off my teeth. I ignored my phone and refused to talk to anyone, even Alan, who came in periodically to check on me and pleaded with me to speak, which did no good. When he would leave the room, I’d allow my guilt, always repressed before, to flood my insides.

Until Alan had stated my shortcomings so plainly, I had never really given a thought to what would happen to the ones I might leave behind. My drug and alcohol abuse served to please only myself, and nobody had ever really asked me to stop. Plus, now I basically had a death sentence handed to me by some richy rich doctor and even I couldn’t ignore science. I had feelings for a man I didn’t deserve, and I was breaking my best friend’s heart.

I tried to remember the last time I had felt normal, or had fun, prior to meeting Chris, and couldn’t remember when a good time didn’t require liquor or coke or pills. I suddenly realized how fucking pathetic that was. I wasn’t grateful for the things I had been given-things I was blessed to have and never stopped to appreciate-the love and acceptance of a good family, friends like Alan.

I believed in God but did not believe in the institution of church and rarely prayed. Praying wasn’t exactly on my list of priorities when I was in a drunken stupor every night. But I hadn’t forgotten how, and I knew it couldn’t hurt. I could not get on my knees and I could not speak, but I clasped my hands and closed my eyes, sniffling back tears.

“Talk to me. I need you.”

******************************
Chris checked his phone, muttering oaths to himself when he saw that he hadn’t been summoned. No voicemails. No calls back. Did people from Louisiana ever answer their fucking phones?

He hadn’t rolled out of bed till 3pm and still felt nasty, but his hangover was forgotten when he saw that Nyx had not called him back. He had braved the unforgiveable heat to walk down the curb and check for her car, which was there, but that meant nothing. So between gulps of Pepto Bismol, forcing down bread, and popping Ibuprofen, he had paced the length of his living room, debating whether or not to walk over to Alan’s.

Chris tried to tell himself that the girl was probably sleeping, since she had been in nonstop motion all day yesterday, but he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. He wished he wouldn’t have been so drunk last night, he should have insisted that she stay, no matter how she tried to protest.
So as much as he wanted to march over there and demand to see her, Chris made himself believe that everything was fine, and that Nyx would come around when she was ready. He swore he’d wait.

He waited for two days.
***************************************
As irony goes, Christobel was the one who got me out of bed. For two days I had stayed in bed, not speaking to anyone, ignoring the trays of food that Amparo and Maria brought up for me, my appetite not even stirring for toast or bacon. I let myself become positively rank and would not allow anyone to change my bedsheets. When I was spoken to or interrupted, I either pretended to be asleep or exploded in a fit of anger that left me weak. The maids didn’t want to come near me-I was wasting away. Alan tried his best, but after I threw a lamp at his head, he didn’t come back, and I didn’t blame him. I was in a positive pit of self loathing and self pity and I hated myself for it, but could not find a good enough reason to get up and get my ass in gear. Christobel, however, got tired of it, and our genetic likenesses reared its ugly head on the second day.

I had been lying there trying to find a position that I wouldn’t smell myself, trying not to think of Chris’s mouth on my neck and his fingers in my hair. I missed him and I didn’t want to and had ordered the maids to keep my cell phone far away from my reach. I was almost asleep when Christobel kicked my door open with an sonorous BANG that left a dent in the plaster. How her tiny ass managed that kick, I wonder to this day. I shot upright in bed.

“What the…”

Christobel’s face was alarmingly red and she stormed up to my bed, a little Napoleon.

“You WILL get your funky ass out of this bed, RIGHT now.”

“Fuck off, Christobel.” I muttered , turning over to ignore her. But she grabbed my shoulder, reared her hand back, and slapped me. Hard enough to make my head rock back violently-I saw stars. My nose started gushing immediately. Christobel didn’t even wait for me to recover from my shock.

“Stop fucking feeling so goddamn sorry for yourself, you idiot. All you do is lay in bed and boohoo about how life isn’t fair to you because you have a problem. Get OVER it. Everybody fucking loves you, the family, your idiot friends, even my goddamn fiancé loves you more then me! And you’re going to act like a selfish cunt?!

I just stared at her, agog. I was still struck dumb by her blow, being angry hadn’t even occurred to me yet. She glared down at me, silicone chest pumping, nostrils flared out.

“Everyone has always loved you more then me, and you don’t even deserve it, Nyx. You take advantage of everyone, and still they love you. You’re a heartless, fucked up person, and if this were my house, you would have been on the curb the night you arrived. But it’s not my house, it’s Alan’s, and he’s too wimp and crazy for you to kick you out. But if you don’t get your shit straight, if you don’t stop using and lying, I’m going to go one step further then kicking you out.”

Christobel took a deep breath.

“I’ll call your mother.”

*************************
“You wouldn’t, you bag of plastic!” I gasped, horrified.

“Try me. Just fucking try me, bitch.” Christobel growled, and at that moment she looked so much like me that I actually shrank back from her.

“If your ass isn’t out of this bed in an hour, I’m getting on the phone. And I’ll make sure the entire family comes, and I’ll tell them what you do. And I know that you are terrified of them ever putting you on my level, so if you’re as smart as everyone claims you are, you’ll listen to me.” Christobel barked, and I winced from the truth of that statement. For playing an idiot all these years, Christobel wasn’t as dumb as she looked. As I was trying to recover my voice, Christobel turned like a drill sergeant and hollered for Amparo and Maria. They appeared instantly, probably just listening around the corner, and Christobel pointed at me.

“Get her out of bed. Change the sheets. Lock her in the damn bathroom if you have to, but don’t let her leave before she’s taken a shower. If she gives you any lip, I give you permission to slap the living shit out of the bitch. And when you’re done with all that, bring her up some toast and shove it down her goddamn throat.”

The maids probably couldn’t understand half of what Christobel was screeching, but they understood “slap the living shit out of her”, and their eyes got huge. I got the very nasty feeling that they’d enjoy that part after my behavior for the past two days.

“And,” Christobel added before she left, “if you find any cocaine, flush it down the toilet, and make her watch.”

The door slammed.

I hated to say it, but I was impressed.
***************************************
Chris was sitting on his sofa fidgeting, trying to watch a movie and not his phone, but he had gone through most of his DVD library (which was considerable) and couldn’t concentrate on anything he had picked out. Two days he had been like this! At first he had been worried, and then he had started to feel insane, and now he was really beginning to get pissed. Nyx’s car hadn’t left the curb, at all, and nobody seemed to leave the imposing Crane residence, ever. Her phone was shut off now.

Chris was coming close to a breaking point and had generously partook in massive amounts of Grey Goose because of it, so his hangover was continuous.
It was halfway through the Watchmen on Blu-Ray that he heard the doorbell ring, and he had actually been engrossed in the movie, so his mind was elsewhere when he got up to answer it.

Nyx stood there, on his steps.
********************************************
Chris just stared at her.

She was wearing a red Sinful shirt and loose jeans, and her hair was soft and red and fell over her shoulders. Her eyes were tired but she had that half smile on her mouth. Chris didn’t realize how much he felt for her until he saw her after those two days, and it scared the shit out of him.

“Chris? Do you want me to leave?” Nyx asked quietly, and Chris shook himself out of his stupor.

“No, I don’t want you to leave. Come in.” He pulled the door wider for her, and she stepped past him. A wave of satsuma and mint smacked him right in the face and he closed his eyes.

“Ah, Watchmen.” Nyx nodded at the paused TV, trying to make awkward conversation. “Good movie, saw it in IMAX.”

Chris closed the door and faced her, sighing. “Nyx, where the hell have you been?”
Nyx bit her lips. “That’s what I came to talk to you about.”

A very bad feeling bubbled up in Chris’ already sensitive stomach, but he gestured to the couch, and Nyx nodded and sat down. He sat on the other side of the couch, knowing that if he got close to her, he would not be able to have this conversation. Nyx took a deep breath and clasped her hands together.

“First of all, Chris-I really don’t want you to think I am ignoring you. It’s not like that. I’ve thought about you a lot these two days. Do you believe me?”

“I want to.” Chris said honestly, and she nodded.

“I hope you do, because I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Chris cracked a smile he didn’t feel. “Good.”

Nyx gave him a nervous smile. “Secondly, I’m not coming here to say that I’m going to stop hanging out with you. I really want to see where this is going, if you still want to, after these past two days. I won’t lie, I’m scared to death. I haven’t been with anybody for about three, four years, in any capacity. But there are…there are things about me that I’m not proud of.” Her voice seemed to stick, and Chris saw in horror that she was trying not to cry. He reached out for her, but she shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Patience was not one of Chris’ greatest attributes, but he let her regroup.

Nyx took a shuddery breath. “If you want to still hang out with me, all I ask is that you understand my need for privacy. I’m not the type to talk about my problems or ask for help, and that can be annoying to some people. Before you, this was unhealthy. Now that I’ve met you, and we’ve done things together, it’s easier to get through the day.”

Chris bit his lip and could not say anything, but this time when he reached for her hand, she let him take it.

“All I need is for you to be you, and we’ll see where it goes from there.” Nyx whispered.

Though Chris had a million questions, none of which he could ask without denying her wishes, he could not bring himself to say no to her request. Instead, he nodded, not bothering to think of the consequences this would have, how unfair it was, not knowing that he’d stew in frustration further down the road. All that mattered to him was that Nyx was there, and that she was willing to be with him. Chris pulled her closer until her head fit into his shoulder. He couldn’t speak, and for Chris, that was a miracle. He buried his face into the mint smell of her hair and rubbed her arm. She felt unbelievably real and warm against his side, and Chris finally found his voice.

“Are you going to keep disappearing like that? Just so I can be prepared?” He added quickly, as he felt her tense up. Nyx raised her head and looked at him.
“I’ll try not to.” She whispered, and he nodded, his eyes on her mouth, but he didn’t kiss her. Instead, Chris tucked her head back into his chest and kissed her forehead, then clicked the PLAY button on his remote.

Chris Kirkpatrick was a very, very stubborn man. He didn’t like restrictions and he believed he had the power to change or help people, whether they wanted it or not. For him, agreeing to Nyx’s conditions were just a necessary pretext-he really didn’t think he’d have to adhere to it.

Silly rabbit-Nyx ain't for kids.
*******************************************
Over the next few weeks, I tried my best.

When I got off of work, I tried my damndest to ignore the leftover beers. Whenever I saw Maria or Wade, I hurried away before I could act on the urge to buy coke from them. When Chris and I went out to dinner, I always refused liquor and got a soda instead. Chris accepted my excuse that I was trying to lay off drinking for awhile, he even followed suit, most of the time. As smart as he was, I don’t think he ever suspected anything. I didn’t have to try at home, since Christobel and Alan dumped all the liquor out and forbade any of the maids to get me some, under penalty of termination. And I was not even close to being worth their cushy jobs. I really tried, I did.

But withdrawal was brutal. It was hell to keep up appearances at work, especially in front of Chris, though he attributed most of my fatigue from work, which was lucky for me. When he and I didn’t have plans, (which was rare) I spent most of my time in my room, sweating, puking and crying. Alan would come up sometimes and hold my hand, but gone were the days when he’d give me a bump just to stop me from losing my mind. I was in hell.

But when I was with Chris, it was easier to not think about what would happen when I’d get home. At work, when I wasn’t puking in the bathroom, I was daydreaming about him, something I had never done before with any guy. Try as I might to be tough, the man didn’t let me strut around like an asshole. When I got too sassy, he’d give me a Look, and I’d calm down instantly. It was fucking crazy. Me! Shutting my trap like that! But Chris had a deviousness of his own, he was constantly hamming, performing, teasing. He loved to bait me and see me rise to it, he was merciless when it came to making me laugh; he wouldn’t stop until I was seconds away from pissing on myself. I had never laughed so much before.
When he wasn’t trying to kill me with humor and practical jokes, Chris was hell bent on bringing out my soft side. He pulled out my chairs, opened my doors, respected my hesitancy about being physical, and though I knew he’d never take advantage of me, he always asked me to stay over after a date. After a few times, he knew the answer, but he always asked, but never pressed the matter. I had never been so aroused or confused or shocked by tenderness in my life. It drove me batty. Along with withdrawal symptoms, I couldn’t sleep, I counted down seconds at work until I would hear his motorcycle roaring around the corner to pick me up. I watched old *NSYNC videos and tried to wrap my brain around the fact that I had kissed the man on the train in the Bye Bye Bye video, I even learned the dances, even though I never told him.

We didn’t kiss a lot, even though Chris liked to catch me out of the blue with them, always gentle, never going further then hands on my waist or my back or my hair. I wanted to sleep with him insanely but I could not bring myself to do it. His innocent touches on my back or in my hair started to make my head fuzzy. Sexual frustration and substance withdrawal do not go well together. When I wasn’t puking at home, I was terrorizing anyone who crossed my path.

And then things started to happen in frightening succession.
****************************************
My phone rang just as I was getting out of the bathtub.

I checked the display and smiled to myself, like a cat who got the cream.

“What do you want, Baio?”

“Hey now, sister, don’t sound so excited. What are you doing?” Chris teased, and I rolled my eyes.

“Hanging out with my other boyfriend, Raoul. He bids you hello but told me to let you know that I’m not available.”

“Well, Raoul can fuck off.” Chris said cheerfully, and I laughed.

“So your other boyfriend, huh? You have two?” He said, casually, and I froze.

“Um…well…look, I didn’t mean to say all that…”

Chris started to laugh, and once he got going, it was hard for him to stop. “Nyx, you are paranoid.”

I stuck out my tongue at the phone.

“I heard you do that. Listen, I’m throwing a BBQ next weekend, bunch of my friends are coming, some of the guys you know from the paintball tournament, and I think the rest of the group are going to be able to make it. You’re automatically invited, of course, but I wanted to make sure you’d be okay with all that.”

I gulped. “When you say, the rest of the group-do you mean THE GUYS?”

“Yeah, you know-Joey and Lance and JC and Justin. Who else?”

“Okay, so the guys collectively known as *NSYNC. Right. Got you.” I closed my eyes and uttered a silent oath. I hadn’t ever expected I’d meet the rest of them, to tell you the truth, the thought turned my stomach. These guys were Chris’ brothers, and knew him the best. If they didn’t like me, I had little doubt that Chris would turn a deaf ear to their opinions. Chris talked a lot about them, and they sounded like really good people, but I felt as if a brick had slid into my stomach.

“Nyx? Are you there? Helllllooo?” I almost dropped the phone.

“Yeah, I’m here, Chris. I’m here.”

“I can hear what you’re thinking, and don’t worry about it. I promise, the guys will love you.”

I laughed, but it wasn’t real. “I hope so.”

“Nyx, babe, STOP WORRYING.” Chris scolded, a frequent abomination of his.

“Okay, okay, okay! I’ll stop worrying.” I hastily amended, and the line went quiet for a few seconds.

“You’re still worrying!” Chris accused, and I groaned in exasperation.

“Nyx, if you don’t want to come, I’ll get it.” Chris said, very quietly. I sighed.

“I want to. And I will.”

“Good. I’m glad. I’d REALLY like my brothers to meet my girlfriend.” Chris teased, a little bit shyly.

I chuckled nervously. “Your girlfriend, huh? Let’s see what Raoul has to say about that.”

“Raoul better get the hell away from her.” Chris growled, and I laughed, a real one this time.

“Are you coming over?” He asked, and I heard him tapping impatiently on a surface of some sort.

“Yeah, let me get out of the tub, you pain in the ass.”

Chris growled. “How bout you stay there and I come over instead?”

I snorted. “How about you take a cold shower?”

“No thanks, not as much fun. See you soon. Muah!” Chris smacked loudly into the phone, and I could not help myself-I smacked back.
*******************************************
As the day of the BBQ drew near, my withdrawal symptoms seemed to reach an all time high. This time, I passed it off as the flu, and Chris didn’t take no for an answer-he basically bullied the maid into letting him come up and see me, as Alan and Christobel were off on a skiing trip. I had begged Chris not to come over, to preserve his health for the BBQ, but he was stubborn. When he bustled into my room, carrying a plastic bag of every flu medicine that CVS had to offer, he stopped in his tracks when he saw how pale I was. The bag dropped on the floor, and Chris stared.

I knew what I looked like-pale, emaciated, exhausted. I could keep nothing down, and I went through boxes of Kleenex. The maids cleaned up around me and grabbed things if I couldn’t reach them, but I was mostly on my own for the first day, during which Chris was at the studio and I was still struggling with my pride. Alan hadn’t wanted to leave me, but he had a business deal that couldn’t be ignored, and he told me that he’d be calling the doctor to check on me. The doctor wasn’t due for another two days, and I was fairly sure that nothing in Chris’s little bag would help me.

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” I protested, and he just shook his head. “Nyx, what the hell are you sick with, malaria? You look like death, literally.”
Chris picked up the bag and took a few steps towards me, but I held out my hand. “Don’t come close.” Of course he wouldn’t catch what I had, but he didn’t know that. Chris rolled his eyes. “If I get sick, I’ll dope myself up until the party. Alan left you like this?” I could see anger building in his dark eyes, and I shook my head. “I’m a big girl, for Christ sakes, stop fussing.”

 Chris glared at me. “I’m not fussing, goddammit. Alan’s a dick to leave you like this.”

“He already arranged for a doctor to come and see me.”

“Yeah, when?” Chris challenged, and I sighed. “Two days.”

He laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, okay, two days. Where’s this doctor’s number? I’m going to call him.”

Panic welled up in me. “You can’t! Don’t! I don’t know the number!” I got too excited and promptly started coughing, and Chris sat down in a chair and grasped my hand, those muddy brown eyes squinted in worry.

“Nyx, calm down, babe.”

But I couldn’t-if Chris called the doctor, the doctor would say quite plainly what was wrong with me, and I couldn’t have that. I sucked in deep breaths, but it wouldn’t help. Chris immediately sat on my bed and stroked my hair.

“Nyx, listen to me-you have to calm down. I won’t call the doctor, but if you don’t chill, I will bring you to a hospital.”

I looked up at him, miserable. “What are you doing, Chris? Why are you here?”
Chris attempted a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t deserve this.” I murmured, not able to look at him.

“Nyx, don’t tell me what I do or don’t deserve. I’m sick of hearing that from you. You think because I used to be famous that I constantly have to be schmoozing or around certain people, that I’m not normal enough to take care of somebody?” Now he sounded angry, and I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t meet his eyes, those dark eyes that knew so much.

I shook my head. “I’m not saying that. You aren’t like that-I really don’t think of you as Chris Kirkpatrick, famous guy. I just…you’re Chris to me. Always have been.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way, and let’s get one thing straight, sister. You’re my girlfriend, and I’m not going to leave you sit here in this room, alone. I’m going to dope your ass up, bring you to my house, watch you puke, and stuff food down your throat, and I swear to God, if you give me any shit about it, I’ll make you listen to Miley Cyrus and/or the Jonas Brothers. Are you getting me?” Chris barked.
He reminded me so much of Christobel at that moment that I couldn’t help snickering, despite how sick I felt. Chris stamped his foot, trying to be firm, but I could see his eyes crinkling in relief. “Stop laughing. I mean it. I’m the nurse from hell.” His mouth moved in funny shapes, trying not to smile, but it didn’t work-in minutes, we were laughing, like we always do.

***********************************************
Without a hitch, I was moved from Alan’s house to Chris’. Chris was remarkably adept at getting people to do his bidding, and with my assistance, he managed to communicate to the maids that I was evacuating the premises, and they were all too happy to help me out of there.

Chris wanted me to stay in his guest bedroom, but I protested against the stairs, so I got to sleep on the bed in the computer room, which was closer to a bathroom. I liked this spot, as we could hang out without me even leaving the bed. He would mess around on the computer or strum on his countless guitars while I slept, and I did a lot of it. The first night I was there, he had lined up at least six or seven shotglasses in front of me, and instead of liquor, poured out medicine, which he watched me drink, under penalty of an ass whooping. Chris was right-he was the nurse from hell. He bossed me around relentlessly, rated my puking on a scale from 1-10, and watched over every move I made. I was too amused to get irritated. But the best part was that he didn’t ask any questions, even though I saw them in his eyes. Every time I got a nosebleed, every time I’d throw up, every time I’d get the shakes, Chris would look at me, barely veiled suspicion in his eyes. This was no flu, and he knew it, but he didn’t want to upset me.

I don’t know if it was because I was willing to get better, or just because some of his medicines were working, but I began to feel improvement. I actually started to want to eat the food Chris made for me, instead of being forced to eat it, and in turn, it stayed down. I actually gained some weight, and my nosebleeds ceased in severity and stopped coming so often. I was able to get up and move around, even if I was drugged up on cough medicine to the fifth power. Chris was proud of himself and strutted around like a peacock the first few days I was walking around, until I fake puked on the carpet to take him down a peg.

After a week, I was pretty much back to normal. I knew in my heart that the withdrawals would probably not stop completely, but it was the first time the feigning wasn’t as hard, mostly because Chris kept me entertained well into the wee hours of the morning.

After my strength had been regained, I realized that it was going to be hard, sleeping at his house when I no longer had the excuse of being sick to keep us apart. During that whole week, Chris acted like an older brother, not my boyfriend, but once I started feeling better, his little touches immediately returned. A hand at the small of my back in the kitchen, his arm thrown over the back of the sofa at night, a kiss on the forehead when he went up to bed that did not feel at all brotherly. The BBQ was two days away and there was a lot to do, so at night we did not do more then watch TV and lay together.

I was scared shitless about meeting the guys from *NSYNC. I had secretly hoped that they would be too busy, would have to cancel, but Chris spoke to them excitedly at night and it was a sealed deal-they’d be there at the BBQ, whether I was ready for them or not. I did not bring up my concerns again to Chris-he had enough on his plate.

The night before the BBQ, we were playing Mortal Kombat again, Chris winning this time (I was letting him) and I was watching him play out of the corner of my eye. In my heart, I knew that something was about to change in the relationship, something momentous was about to happen that would split our relationship into before and after. I had seen it in his eyes when I was sick, when he would look at me in the middle of a joke and wait for my reaction, when he would touch my hand or my face. Chris was the type of man who pretended not to, but wore his heart on his sleeve. He used humor as a shield and didn’t judge me. At times, I felt the urge to run away, to become my old self, to let Chris find another woman who could give him a relationship without ultimatums or secrets or addictions. But the second I’d come close to the decision, he’d look at me and smile, and I forgot all my reasons, I postponed it-just one more day of this, I thought, and I’ll go. But I didn’t.

*************************
The morning of Chris’ BBQ, Christobel left Alan.

Chris heard Nyx’s phone go off from downstairs at 8am, and he heard her answer, blearily. Her voice became concerned, and then sharp and raised. Though he was not by any means an early riser, Chris groggily came down the steps as Nyx was stepping out of the computer room.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, squinting at her.

She looked at him, and Chris saw anger in her eyes, her lips were pinched tight, and there was something in her face that Chris immediately did not like, even though he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Christobel left Alan. I’m going to run over there, I’ll be back to help for the BBQ.” She grabbed her backpack and ran up the steps to give Chris a kiss on the cheek.
“Why is he so upset?” He wanted to know, confused.

Nyx shook her head. “I have no idea, but I can’t just tell him to forget it.”
Chris, who had not been feeling very friendly towards Alan after he had abandoned Nyx, wondered just why the hell not, but then he saw the pleading in her eyes.

“He was there for me, Chris. I can’t just write him off.”

Chris gave her a smile he didn’t feel. “You’re right. I’ll see you in awhile.”
Nyx gave him a grateful smile that tore at his heart, and with a few light steps, she was out of the house and Chris heard her feet against the pavement, then stop altogether.

Jealousy reared its’ ugly head.
**************************************
The first thing I noticed when I ran up the walk was that the Prowler was gone. As this was Alan’s personal car, hate flared inside of me. Not even married, and still trying to take everything. I had to let myself in, because no maids answered my knock. I was shocked to see that the lights were off, nobody called, nobody answered, I strained my eyes to hear the faint familiar sounds of the maids’ feet, but I didn’t hear a sound.

“Alan?” I called, and my voice bounced off the many walls. Nothing. Fear bubbled up in my throat, and I took the marble stairs three at a time. I kicked open their bedroom door, but he wasn’t in it, nor in the adjoining bathrooms. “Alan! Where are you?!” I yelled, kicking every door open, until I finally got to mine. It was already open, and I entered it with dread.

Alan was sitting on my bed, my mirror in his hand, white clogging his nostrils.
When I saw the coke, it was like a snake reared its head. My fingers automatically started itching, and my throat went numb, and all I could concentrate on was the thought of a glass straw in my hand, the drip in my throat, the buzz of it through my limbs. I hadn’t seen a trace of coke in weeks, and now, just as I thought I was kicking the habit, here it was, in Alan’s hands. And I remembered something my old dealer from Louisiana used to say-you don’t kick cocaine, cocaine kicks YOU.
“Alan, what are you doing?” My voice sounded different, as if it were coming from another room.

“Trying it your way, Nyx.” He answered, his voice dead.

I did not come any closer, but circled him cautiously as if he held a live adder.

“Why’d she leave, Alan?”

He shook his head and laughed, but it was a dead sound.

“Why would she stay? And for that matter, why should I care?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, why do you care? You don’t love her. You don’t need her.”

Alan snickered, but did not look up at me. “But she’s somebody, Nyx.”
“You’d rather have Christobel then be alone? Boy, you have issues.” I shook my head and dropped into a chair, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at the things in his hand.

“It’s not really so much being alone. I could take that. Hell, I might even like it.” Alan whispered, rolling the straw between his fingers. I clenched my hands. I swear, I could smell the stuff.

“Then why are you in here, snorting?”

Alan let out a cry and I jumped, he dropped the mirror and it shattered on the floor. Coke went everywhere, and this time, I could smell it. I cursed and covered my nose.

“For as smart as you are, Nyx, you can be really fucking obtuse!” Alan yelled, and I looked up at him in shock. Alan had never raised his voice to me before. When I think about it now, I think I deserved it.

“What do you…” I started, but he just groaned in disgust and started to pace the length of the room.

“Haven’t you ever REALLY thought about why I was with Christobel? Or do you even care about somebody else other then yourself?”

Anger burned my throat. “Fuck you, Alan, I-“

“Shut the fuck up!” He roared, and I stared at him, speechless.

“Answer the question! Have you ever considered why I put up with her shit?” He snapped, and I scowled.

“I figured you were the worst of masochists.”

“Wrong! I figured that if I couldn’t have you, then I’d at least have someone who had some of the same qualities, even though with Christobel they were worse. I couldn’t have you, so I settled for someone who at least was in your family, so if I could marry her, I’d get to see you. Because believe it or not, Nyx, you and Christobel are alike in more ways then one, you both just show it differently!” Alan ranted, his finger pointing at me during most of his tirade. It was like a malediction, and I recoiled from it.

“I’m not anything like her and to suggest it is an insult.” I said coldly, and Alan scoffed. “You think that, but your entire family is that way. Stubborn, bullheaded, hot tempered. It’s only in you that the traits are attractive. No wonder Chris is falling for you, any man would. But have you ever thought about the day when he knows, Nyx?”

His words hit a little close to home and my anger was so great that I was beginning to feel sick again, just from my stomach tossing.

“Of course I’ve thought about it, you ass! It’s all I do think about!” I roared, and Alan shook his head. “Then why can’t you let him go?”

“Why can’t you let me go?” I whispered, the words falling on the carpet between us.
Alan sighed in exasperation. “I don’t know! I used to be able to deal with it, because you were so against guys or any sort of relationship. I thought I was safe from having to be jealous. And then you come here and you meet HIM, and you’re gone every night until 2am. The only time I get you to myself is when you’re sick. He gets the best of you and he wasn’t even there at your worst.” Now Alan sounded like he was choking, and as pissed as I was, my heart broke.

“Alan, I…”

“Don’t feel sorry for me, dammit.” He interrupted, and I sighed.

“Then what do you want me to do, Alan? I know the stakes. I’m sorry you feel this way. I’m sorry you’re jealous and you’re hurting. I’m sorry that you can’t let go, but I’m not going to let you go down my path.”

Alan shook his head and chuckled morbidly. “Don’t lecture, me, goddammit. Not when you have him and I don’t even have Christobel. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

Yeah. Okay.

I stood up, walked over, and smacked him hard in the back of the head, like a redheaded stepchild.

“The fuck you will, Alan Crane! I swear to God, if you start using, I’ll tell your parents. I’ll march right over to that architectural shitheap they call a house and tell them you like the booger sugar. And you KNOW what they will do, Alan. And I can promise you, losing Christobel and me will seem like the least of your troubles.”

Alan glared up at me, rubbing the back of his head. “You wouldn’t dare.” I smacked him again, hard across the face this time, my features like stone.

“Try me, Crane. Just fucking try me.”

With that, I stomped out of the room, went to the closet, and retrieved a dustpan and a broom, then stalked back and threw them at him.

“Now clean this fucking coke off the floor, now. And let me watch you flush it.”
Alan snorted. “Very funny, Nyx.”

I felt my face getting dark red. “You get your scrawny, spoiled, nouveaux riche ass out of that fucking chair and clean it up. And if you don’t, Alan, so help me God, I’ll call your parents.”

As Alan hastened to do my bidding, I had to hide a smile. I never thought I’d see the day when Christobel Fontenot would inspire me to kick ass.
***************************************************
I arrived back at Chris’ in plenty enough time to help him set up for the BBQ. When I burst into the front door, he smiled in apparent relief that I hadn’t run back into the arms of my ex boyfriend, and gave me an affectionate squeeze around the waist.

There was lot to do, so we didn’t fart around. Chris had bought a shitload of food and liquor, and I had gotten my mom to send me a few packets of shrimp dip (a brand that was nonexistent in Florida) so I busied myself with making that. Anything to stay away from the bottles of liquor Chris had purchased for the party. He kept sneaking into the kitchen to see what I was doing, and each time I had to chase him away with a spoon.

I knew Chris was waiting for me to talk about what had transpired with Alan, but I didn’t say anything about it and tried to act normal. But between the times I was making food and chasing Chris away from the kitchen, Alan’s words kept coming back to circle my brain, like hungry sharks. I didn’t know what to do anymore when it came to him. How do you tell a person who’s seen you at your darkest that you appreciate it, but you didn’t want them? Guilt coated my stomach like Pepto Bismol.
I felt an arm snake around my waist and Chris’ lips at my neck. I smiled, despite myself. He smelled like sweat and grill smoke, but underneath I could smell his aftershave, and I couldn’t help but to close my eyes. “I don’t think I ever asked you this, but what the hell is that satsuma stuff you wear? I love that stuff.” Chris nuzzled the back of my neck, and I almost swooned.

“Body Shop, girl stuff.” I murmured, and he smiled against my skin. I felt his stubble scratching me and all thoughts of Alan fled my poor little brain.

“Don’t stop wearing it and don’t let me find it. I’ll eat it straight out of the bottle.” He threatened, and I giggled.

“You’re not supposed to be in here, Kirkpatrick.” I warned, but he gently tugged at my ear with his teeth. “Yeah? It’s my kitchen. And I own everything in this bitch.”
I scoffed. “You think so?”

Chris’s hands slipped to my waist and turned me around. His face was inches from my own, and he was wearing that devious little smile that made my knees shaky. “Well, maybe own is not the word.” He whispered, husky, and I felt his hands slip underneath my shirt, against my skin. It felt like a burn, and I was cursing him in my head as I sagged in his arms. Chris chuckled at my reaction and kissed my nose.

“You need to go get ready, Nyx. People are going to get here soon.”

His hands slipped from underneath my shirt and firmly pulled the back of it down, and I gaped up at him.

“You fucking tease!”

Chris shook his head, laughing. “Payback is a bitch, babe.”

“I can’t leave you alone in this kitchen with this shrimp dip. With your appetite, it’ll be gone by the time I step out of the room!” I exclaimed. Chris shrugged. “You’re probably right. Maybe I should come with you while you get dressed, you know, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dream on, Kirkpatrick.” I moved away from him, pleased when I felt his eyes on my back.

“Oh, I do, trust me!” He yelled after me.

I smiled to myself, but my knees were knocking together, and when I got into the computer room, I closed the door and slid down the length of it, prompting bursting into silent sobs.

Goddamn Christopher Kirkpatrick, goddamn him.

I was in love.
*******************************************

Sitting in the dark, I can't forget.
Even now, I realize the time I'll never get
Another story of the bitter pills of fate
I can't go back again
I can't go back again
But you asked me to love you, and I did.
Traded my emotions for a contract to commit
And when I got away, I only got so far
The other me is dead
I hear his voice inside my head