Toxic (Better Than You) (25 page)

             
I can’t breathe. I’m going to explode. I need to-

             
“Logan, honey, breathe. Count.”

             
Count? Count. I can’t count.

             
“Relax. Focus on your breathing. What do you want to do right now?”

             
I want to disappear. I want to feel the burn. I want to taste-

             
“Logan. Focus. What
should
you do right now?”

             
One, two, three, four, five…

             
“That’s it, sweet girl. Deep breath in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

             
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

             
“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

             
“It’s alright, Amelia. She’s just a little overwhelmed. Why don’t you come back tomorrow, same time?”

             
“Of course. I’ll be here.”

             
I watch her walk away. They walk the same. Is that possible? For two people to share something as insignificant as a walk?

             
I have a grandmother. I have family. I am not alone.

February 5, 2010- Day 5 in real world

             
Amelia came back to rehab every day until it was time for me to leave. She asked a lot of questions, most of which I didn’t answer. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew the answers would hurt her, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt the one person who was willing to help me.

             
I’m living with her and my grandfather on the west coast of Florida. The beaches here have the whitest sand I’ve ever seen. And the traffic is much lighter than in Miami. So far I’ve spent my days on the beach, studying for my GED and my nights sitting at the dinner table with my family.
Family.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the word. In a nutshell, I love it here.

             
The friend who found Amelia was Nathan. I don’t know how I feel about it. She was surprised when I told her he’s not really a friend at all. But I was lying. He’s more than a friend. Always will be. I dream about him finding me here, knocking on my door and pulling me into a kiss like nothing ever came between us. It’s not that easy, though. There’s so much I have to work on, so many things I still have to change. I’m better, but not healed. Don’t know that I ever will be. I have come to the conclusion that I will always be an addict. I will always crave the things that have taken so much away from me.

             
Amelia cried when I told her that I couldn’t have children. I cried with her. Not because they’re something I wanted, but because when I find someone to love, if it’s something
they
want, I won’t be able to offer it. Amelia says that someone will love me despite what I’m able to offer. I don’t know if I believe her, but I hope it’s true.

             
Luis Sanchez, one of the cops I gave my statement to back in rehab, has been keeping me updated with details of the case. So far it looks as though there won’t even be a hearing. Dave wasn’t a very popular man with the many girlfriends he abused and the kids he barely fathered. Luis keeps telling me that it looks pretty cut and dried. I can’t help but worry that it will all catch up with me eventually. I’ve finally stopped dreaming about him, but I’m far from forgetting.

             
Today’s not the day to think about that. Today is about starting over, making plans, chasing dreams. I’m going to visit a university nearby. I’m hoping to start in the fall. The fact that I’m actually
hoping
for anything at all makes me smile. And then the fact that I’m smiling, and it’s real, makes me laugh. I’ve put on weight, my hair isn’t stringy and dull anymore, my skin doesn’t look like chalk and my eyes crinkle at the corners. I’m a brand new me, even better than before. It’s refreshing.

             
I make my way downstairs to find Amelia and Ralph sitting at the breakfast bar reading the newspaper. “I’m leaving,” I announce. They both stop reading their papers and look up at me. Acknowledge me. It’s surreal.

             
“You be careful driving. And call us when you’re on your way home,” Amelia says as she stand and walks towards me. She plants a light kiss on my forehead and rubs my arms.

             
“I will. I shouldn’t be long.”

             
“Good luck,” Ralph says with a wink.

             
I walk out of the house smiling. The drive to Florida Gulf Coast University is relaxing. So much easier and calmer than driving anywhere in Miami. When I park the car in the visitor’s lot, I don’t feel tense or annoyed. I don’t feel the need to unwind. What I do feel the need to do is let that fact sink in. It’s a good feeling, makes me feel like maybe I am better after all.

             
Ten minutes later, I’m standing in front of what I thought was the Admissions Office but is actually the testing center and I have absolutely no idea where to go. The signs have arrows that aren’t exactly clear. The thought of asking a stranger for directions is making me start to hyperventilate. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should go home and come back with Amelia.
Yeah, bring your grammy with you like a big girl.

             
I start to back up, ready to turn and high tail it back to my car, and nearly knock someone down in the process of freaking out. Books and papers fly everywhere, some getting caught in the wind and fluttering away. A few people are nice enough to help pick them up. I’m absolutely mortified.

             
“I am so sorry,” I tell the girl scrambling to stuff the papers back in her bag. She’s small and bent over so all I see is the top of her blonde head. When she looks up at me, she smiles. And then the smile disappears and she covers her mouth with a hand, a stunned expression hidden underneath it.

             
“Logan?” she whispers.

             
How does she know my name?
I start to inspect her, from the freckles spilled across her cheeks to the curly blonde hair on her head, to the amber brown eyes staring at me like I’m a ghost and-

             
“Melissa?”
I take a step back, then another. I feel like I’m in a movie.
Where are the cameras?
How is this even possible?
Maybe I should stop asking that question because a lot of seemingly impossible things have been happening to me lately.

             
“Oh my god. It’s you. It’s really you.” And then she’s hugging me. Full on, arms wrapped around me twice, hugging me. There’s nothing I can do but hug her back. “I never thought I would see you again. My god, I think about you all the time. I can’t believe you’re okay.” She holds me out at arm’s length and I’m able to catch a breath. “You’re beautiful. And
tall
. I can’t believe it’s you.” She pulls me into another hug, this one less life threatening.

             
After a few seconds, she lets me go and takes a step back. “How are you here? I mean, that’s not what I mean. What I
mean
is, what are you doing here?” She sighs and flips a hand in the air. “You know what I mean.”

             
I smile at her, glad to see that some things never change. That they
shouldn’t
. “It’s a really, really long story, Melis.”

             
At the mention of her nickname, her eyes grow all watery and she grabs my hand. “I’ve got all day. Seriously. I just had my last class.”

             
So I let her guide me to the campus café, where we sit and talk for hours. For the first time, I tell somebody my story, front to back, inside and out. She cries and she laughs, but she doesn’t walk away and she doesn’t say I’m toxic. Melissa tells me I’m strong, tells me that she’s sorry, and I believe her.

November 4, 2010- Day 277 in real world

“I need you to skip class today.”

Melissa rolls her eyes and jumps off her extra-long twin bed. “The last time you told me that, we ended up getting rained on at the beach. Please tell me we aren’t going to the beach.”

“That was a freak thing and you know it.”

“Or more like karma.”

I roll my eyes at her dramatics. “Whatever. We aren’t going to the beach. I have a mission.”

She stops folding her laundry and faces me, interest clear on her face. “A mission? What kind of mission?”

“I’m calling it Operation Make Things Right.”

“Oh, sounds good already. I’m in.”

I laugh obnoxiously. “That took a lot of convincing.”

Now it’s Melissa’s turn to roll her eyes. “You know it doesn’t take a lot to convince me to skip class. Especially since today is speech.”

I slip off of
my bed and start to get dressed, pulling on my favorite worn jeans. The yellow shirt I want to wear isn’t anywhere in sight. As usual. “I don’t understand why you didn’t just get that out of the way first. Most people do,” I say, rifling through the pile of clothes at the end of my bed. I’m not sure if they’re clean or dirty.
Sniff sniff.
They smell clean enough.

“Yeah, well, I thought that I’d be okay with talking in front of people later on in my college career. Who knew I’d be wrong.”
A piece of clothing hits me in the head. “Is that what you’re looking for?” Melissa asks, barely containing a laugh.

“You’re so full of shit. You love talking in front
of people,” I say, pulling the shirt over my head. When I look at Melissa, she’s staring at me with her hands on her hips.

“I am
not
full of shit. Which is precisely why I’m terrible at giving speeches in class. I don’t give a shit about what I’m
speeching
about and therefore cannot
sell it
, as my teacher likes to put it.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “I don’t think
speeching
is a word.”

“It is now,” Melissa decides as she grabs her purse and keys off of the desk. “Are we going or what? And where are we going, anyways?”

This is the part where I want to lie, tell her that I’ll drive and just to trust me, but I don’t lie anymore. At least not to Melissa. “We’re going to Miami.”

She doesn’t say anything for a while, just stares at me like I’m supposed to say more. When I don’t say anything else, she simply turns and heads for the door. “I’m assuming there’s a very good explanation for this all and I’m assuming I’ll be hearing about it on the two hour drive to the city of sins.”

“You mean Sin City? As in Las Vegas? I think that’s more than a two hour drive.”

Melissa flips me the bird over her shoulder. “Ha ha, very funny.”

Our dorm building is full of activity, mostly everyone getting ready to leave for class. As Melissa walks by, every guy turns their head to watch her go. She’s a cute little thing, and I’ve come to find out that she’s very picky and therefore very unobtainable. It’s funny to watch the guys try.

The school is small enough that Melissa was able to give me a run down on who to stay away from and who’s just alright. We have our core group of friends who like to do the same things as us, which does not include partying. Between them and my grandparents, I have the best support system I could have asked for. I went from having no one at all, to having everyone I need. Except for one person.

“Spill it,” Melissa demands once we’re on the highway. When she uses her teacher voice, as I like to call it, I do as I’m told. I tell her what I plan on doing, what I hope happens, and what we have to do if nothing goes according to plan. She listens quietly the entire time and I start to fidget with the hem of my shirt, wondering what she’s going to say when she finally does say something.

She lets out a long, deep breath.
“It’s about damn time.”

It’s not what I was expecting. Not at all, and it’s all she says. The rest of the drive is talk-free, but definitely not quiet. Melissa blares Jack Johnson the entire way so that when we fina
lly pull into the parking lot, it’s the last place I want to be. The beach is just across the street and while the sand is not as white and the water will definitely be colder, it’s looking like a better option than carrying out my plan.

“Are we going or what?” Melissa asks. I turn to her and realize that the music is off. The car is off. It’s go time.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and count to ten. Step outside of the car and inhale the humid Miami air. It brings back so many memories that I’d rather not remember, but there is one person who I don’t ever want to forget. So I force one foot in front of the other, down the sidewalk, through the door, past the tables and chairs and into the stock room in the back. Kaitlin and Bridget smile when they see me, put their clipboards aside and leave the room. All so quietly that Nathan doesn’t notice anything at all.