34. Eli

Eli

Three Months

I feel…good. Huh.

I look at my reflection. The bags under my eyes that I’m so used to seeing are gone. There’s a light in my blue irises I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. And on top of that, I feel like the voices in my head aren’t so loud. I’m giving them an outlet for once—a place to go instead of living inside me.

Dr. Langley has me on a schedule. Twice a week, I see him in his office, and then once a week, I attend a support group for recovering addicts.

They let me leave the facility two days ago.

I never did beat Patrick at checkers, but I still think he cheats.

Phoenix is chomping at the bit to get home. He’ll be back tomorrow, and today is my first official meeting with other addicts. I’m nervous but also looking forward to it. It still feels so weird to me, and that’s who I am. A recovering addict. That I even was an addict. But that’s what my therapist has tried to get through my thick skull these past few months. Being in denial about it is the biggest indicator that I had a problem to begin with. And accepting it was my first step to getting better.

I don’t think I’m all the way better, but I’m a step above where I was. Brenda cried when I left. She hugged me and told me she was proud of me. That shit felt amazing. I’m sad I won’t be able to see her anymore. Connor can suck my dick. I will not miss that turd.

Running a brush through my hair, I take one more look in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.

I put on Phoenix’s lucky socks because they really do help for some reason. When I wear them, I feel like I can conquer the world. I slide my feet into my Vans and head for the door. Not seeing Helios meandering about is weird, but he’ll be back home soon. I’m sure Phoenix misses him terribly, even if his mind hasn’t been able to register it yet. He’ll probably cry when he gets that cat back in his arms.

Fuck, hopefully, he missed me more than the damn cat.

Shaking my head, I leave the apartment and review my mental checklist. That’s another thing I’ve been taught to do. When I’m overwhelmed, break shit up into a list. Important, priority stuff, and things I can address later. It’s a form of compartmentalizing, but the way Dr. Langley told me to do it helps. Going to my meeting is the first thing. Next is the grocery store.

After that, I need to get a hold of an attorney so I can serve Tracy with a restraining order.

When I got my phone back, I got a single text from her that said she left and never to contact her again. She made it seem like I was the one who sought her out in the first place, which is fucking insane. I told my therapist about it, and he said that sometimes, no contact is the best course of action, especially in my situation. But I don’t want to risk her coming back around. So, I’m doing the legal shit whenever I can manage to get back to Chicago. And once I find a reasonably priced attorney to help me with all that, I can focus on my next steps.

There is a fuckton of steps.

Nope. Don’t think about all that. Meeting first. Then, grocery store.

I can do this.

T he community center is full of people doing all sorts of things. But I follow the sign pointing towards my meeting.

There are only a few people here so far because I’m kind of early. It's not like I had anything better to do. I debated texting Phoenix that I was here but decided not to. It’s like 4 am where he is. Look at me being all considerate. Although, I did kind of slip last night and sent him a recording of me jacking off.

For old-time’s sake.

He ran into the bathroom of his hotel and sent me a thirty-second video. That’s how long it took him to come. We’ll have to work on that stamina when he gets home. I smile like an ass thinking about it, and shift my leg to hide my half-hard dick. Taking one of the empty folding chairs, I look over the flyer again, making sure I’m at the right meeting at the right time. There are several today. It could be at Sexaholics Anonymous or some shit.

That’d be bad considering I do porn…or did. I don’t know.

Stick with the checklist, Eli.

People slowly trickle in over the next ten minutes, and the lady leading the meeting has us all introduce ourselves. It’s almost my turn when the door squeaks open. All the heads swivel to see who interrupted, and my eyes bug out of my skull.

Fuck, he looks so much like Phoenix that, for a split second, I thought it was him.

Oliver stumbles through the door, his dirty blonde hair is the same length as mine, and slips free of the short pony tail he has it in. The last time I saw him was about two years ago.

It was the first Christmas I’d ever gone to at the Sawyer’s.

Oliver looked horrible then, but oddly enough, he doesn’t look too bad right now. He’s not skinny anymore. In fact, he seems like he’s bulked up quite a bit. A neatly trimmed beard covers his acne scars.

“Sorry I’m late, Kristen,” he rasps and falls into a chair. “I got carried away building my deck again.”

She laughs. “Well, since you are late, you can do an introduction. We have some new faces here with us today.”

He groans loudly. “Do I have to?”

She beams. “Yes.”

He huffs, then straightens in his chair. “Hi, I’m Oli, and I’m an addict. I’m twenty-seven, and my favorite color is brown.” He forces a fake smile, but Kristen seems satisfied.

A few more people introduce themselves, and then it’s my turn.

“Um. Hey,” I say, my voice dropping lower than usual. “I’m Eli.” Kristen mouths the I’m an addict part, so I feel obligated to say it. “I’m an…addict. Uh. I’m twenty-eight.” She mouths favorite anything . Well, that’s easy. “My favorite person is Phoenix.”

That perks Oliver right up. He stares at me, blinks several times, and then shrivels into his seat, pulling his hood over his head. Too late fucker. I see you.

Kristen leads the meeting into a discussion about our strengths. We’re all expected to share, and Oliver’s strength surprises me. He says that he is trusting someone again. It resonates with me, but I don’t want to be a copycat. So when it’s my turn, I say my strength is resilience. It’s true to an extent, and everyone claps for me.

Then Kristen steers into the darker shit.

She gives us the option to share, and I note that Oliver doesn’t.

A woman named Christine goes off. She tells us her whole life story in painful detail. How she was forced into prostitution at fourteen, had her daughter at sixteen, and then struggled with drugs for ten years. She got clean for a while but relapsed, and now she’s been clean for two months. It’s crazy that she went through all that and still seems so hopeful. Like that she will make it this time and stay away from drugs.

I don’t share yet because I don’t want to tell all my dirt to these strangers. Especially not when Phoenix doesn’t yet know everything. He knows the jist but not the details. I think he deserves to know before these people.

By the time the meeting ends, I have my eyes locked on Oli. He tries to sneak out, but I follow him. I swear he knows because his long legs speed up. Fuck, sometimes I hate being short.

Power walking like it’s my job, I finally catch up to the little shit and slap my hand on his shoulder. The way he leaps into the air, pales like he’s going to hurl, and has an entire body shudder makes me rip my hand away.

“Sorry,” I growl.

He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You can’t just go around touching people,” he snaps, stepping back significantly.

“Sorry,” I repeat, nicer than before. “I wasn’t sure if you remembered me.”

“I do,” he says suspiciously.

“Cool.”

“Goodbye,” he blurts and turns to leave.

“Wait!” He pauses, so I rush out, “Phoenix has been trying to get a hold of you.”

His shoulders hike to his ears. “Okay,” he drawls.

“Will you just text him something? Anything? He’s…worried.”

The dude has his back to me, so I carefully step around him to look him in the eye. He’s grinding his teeth so hard that I think they’ll shatter. “Oliver?”

“I’ll talk to him when I’m ready to. I’d appreciate it if you just left me alone now.” And with that, he leaves, pushing through the double doors with speed.

Well. Fuck you then, asshole.

I stew on Oliver being an addict for the rest of the day.

He’s not an addict anymore, at least that Phoenix is aware of.

God, who else knows? This is going to crush Phoenix. He already feels left out, ignored, and like he doesn’t matter. Well, I’m not going to do that to him. I’m going to tell him. Fuck. How do I tell him?

I lean against the grocery cart and quickly pull up Jorge’s number. He’ll know how to talk to Phoenix about this without it being some crazy bomb drop that’ll ruin our entire fucking reunion.

Hey. I just ran into Oli at my meeting. He’s in recovery, I guess. I want to tell Phoenix.

He might be up. Maybe. I’m unsure, but I slide my phone into my pocket and continue getting groceries. I grab three containers of Oreos for Phoenix, then some Chips ‘O Hoy for myself. I’m over by the meat when my phone buzzes.

Word it delicately.

Second thought. Perhaps not at all.

What did Oli say?

Why not at all? Why the fuck would I keep that from him?

He said that he’d talk to Phoenix when he was ready to and told me basically to fuck off.

I’m going to tell him.

I wouldn’t.

Because??

Just a feeling, but do what you gotta do.

That is fucking stupid.

So much for being the all-wise and knowing best friend.

Asshole. I pocket my phone, get the rest of my groceries, and think about it for the rest of the day.