This Is Rock Bottom （13）

Thanksgiving Day

"Ryan fucking Baylor!"

Jake opened the front door and pulled him in for a quick hug before helping him get a couple of his bags into the house. He'd stayed the night at the airport hotel since he'd gotten in so late and had Ubered to their house instead of asking them to come get him, even though they'd offered.

It was already enough that they were allowing him to stay there until he got a place lined up, and based on everything that'd happened in the past, he wanted to tread as lightly as possible. Mar had assured him that was nonsense, that he and Ty were family, but he felt it better to err on the side of caution.

"Mar? Your super-hot, gay ex-boyfriend's here!" Jake yelled up the stairs, earning a smirk from Ryan. Just then, they heard a series of thumps, followed by Amara coming around the corner and waddling down the stairs toward them. "Damn. Haven't seen her move that fast since before I knocked her up."

"Ry!" she yelled, steadying herself against the handrail as she made her way down, Ryan moving to meet her halfway. He extended his arms, reluctant to hug her because she looked like if you touched her the wrong way, she'd explode. "Yes, I'm a fucking bloated wildebeest. Come here!"

Right on cue, both of them began crying, as they held onto each other for the first time in over five months. "Mar," he whispered into her ear, as he nuzzled his face against her neck. "I can't get over your tits. You actually have tits."

She laughed, wiping her face and swatting his shoulder. "Ha ha. Not like you have any use for them anymore."

"Nah, gay dudes love tits. It's this whole thing, apparently."

"Can we just…maybe not, right now?" Jake shot them a look of disgust, making his way up the stairs with Ryan's bags and shoving one into his arms as he passed by him.

"Sorry."

"Alright, so your room?" She turned and made her way slowly back up the stairs. "You gotta sack out in my office. We don't have a spare with the baby on the way now, but the little couch converts to a bed and it's really comfortable."

"Mar, I don't wanna take over your space. Seriously, I can just stay at a hotel…"

"It's fine, really. I'll kick you out during the day when I need to work if you're home. No big deal."

She opened the door to her office and he walked in, noticing that the bed had already been made up for him.

Because of course it had been.

"Feel free to use the closet. The left side's a mess, but I freed up some space on the right side for you to put your things." She paused, wincing as she ran a hand over her huge stomach, alarming him.

"What's…what's the matter?"

"Kid's on the move, man. He never stops. Do you…do you wanna?" she asked, pointing to her belly.

"Uh…I mean, yeah." His eyes lit up as she grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand over and moving it around before pressing it down firmly. "Right there. Feel it? That's his foot."

A swift movement startled him and he pulled his hand back.

"It's OK. You won't hurt him." Tears welled up in his eyes as he pressed his hand back to her stomach and felt her unborn son moving inside her.

It was a lot for him to process; not only was she someone he loved deeply, but he knew that the baby would be someone he'd soon love deeply, too.

And of course, there was the painful memory of his own choices at age 19 currently kicking him in the proverbial balls, cruelly reminding him that his own kid would've been almost five now…

"Hey, look at me," she told him sternly, and he did. "You did what you had to, OK? Don't do that to yourself."

He nodded, looking away.

"Feels weird, right?" Jake interrupted his thoughts, and Ryan welcomed it. "Kid never stops moving. Ever."

Ryan pulled his hand away and brought it to his face to clear some lingering tears. "It's…wow. That's really cool. So, names? Got any?"

She looked at Jake, who rolled his eyes. "We had to compromise a little. He wanted a junior, but I didn't. So, we decided on…Jacob Tyler. Jacob Tyler DiMara. Or JT."

"Wait." Ryan looked at Jake. "Your last name is DiMara? So, when you two get married, your name is gonna be…Amara DiMara?"

She laughed. "Nope. Not trying to be all Julia Gulia. I'm a McDonough for life, ring or not. I didn't take Kevin's last name either."

"Good thing. That guy was a fucking douche canoe," Ryan chimed in. "Anyway, it's Thanksgiving. Why am I not smelling any food?"

"Ry, you lived with me for months. You think I could swing all that, especially in this condition? And this one can hardly work the toaster without calling me nine times. So, we were thinking Chinese. The neighbors invited us over for dessert later, so you can join us if you're up for it. But we just kinda wanna keep it low key, since it's just the three of us. That's OK?"

Ryan shrugged. "Sounds amazing. Turkey's fucking overrated anyway. Besides, it can't be worse than the sad sandwich I ate all alone in a hotel room last year."

"We can put on some ALF for you if you want," she teased with a wink.

"Nah, I'm good. One day with that creepy ass puppet was enough for me."

"I think it was actually a small guy in a costume," Jake added. "Anyway, we should order the food soon. I'll be downstairs. I gotta let Baylor inside before he murders all the lizards. I think he's just trying to play with them but they always end up massacred. Poor bastards don't stand a chance."

"Oh my God!" Ryan shrieked, palming both his cheeks. "I forgot about Baylor!"

"Yeah, wait ‘til you see how big his derpy ass is now. You won't even recognize him. Anyway, come down and let me know what you guys want so I can order it." Jake kissed Amara's cheek and slapped Ryan lightly across the cheek. "And you? Quit starin' at her tits, perv." He smiled and left the two of them standing there.

"So."

"So."

"How is he?"

Ryan shook his head. "We've gotta do something, Mar. We're losing him. I'm…I'm losing him."

"Shit."

???

"Thanks, man."

"You sure this is where you need to be, my dude?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Hayes exited the vehicle, flipped his gray hoodie up over his head, and began his walk. It wasn't the prettiest part of town, especially at this time of night, but it had what he needed.

He and Ryan had planned to join Osi and Nat for a quiet Thanksgiving dinner at the apartment, but since Ryan left, he'd invited TK to come instead seeing as he had nowhere to go and Hayes didn't want him to be alone. Both of them had spent the past three hours in an opioid-fueled stupor on the couch after swallowing too many oxys, drinking too much alcohol, and hardly eating a thing.

Before Osi had left to go visit Nat's family for dessert, he called Hayes into his bedroom for a chat.

"Wassup, man?" Hayes said groggily, holding himself up against the wall.

"Wassup man? Is that you look like shit. You do not eat. You do not stay awake. What the actual fuck is the matter with you?"

"Um, well. My boyfriend just got fuckin' traded…"

"Even before this. The circles under your eyes. You play like shit. You…you are on drugs, yes?"

"Os, don't…"

"Don't you tell me don't!" Osi snapped back at him, causing Hayes's eyes to bug for a second, as Osi rarely raised his voice. "You are on drugs?"

Hayes sighed, rolling his eyes. "My fuckin'…shoulder's been actin' up, and it's a few pills just to take some of the pain away."

Osi's eyes immediately filled with tears and Hayes had to look away before his heart disintegrated. "I? Come from long line of addicts, Tyler Hayes. The lies. You are not careful, you are going to fuck up all you work for. And then what? Shit. That's what." He stormed out of the bedroom.

"Os, come on…"

"Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy your fucking nap."

After they'd left the apartment, Hayes plopped back down next to TK. "He's so fuckin' pissed at me. Add that one to the list." TK didn't budge. Hayes checked; he was breathing, but he was out cold. "Good talk, man."

Reaching for his phone, he'd hoped to see a message or missed call from Ryan. They'd talked for a bit this afternoon, with Ryan expressing his concern over why Hayes hadn't picked up the phone when he'd called him after landing last night. This was followed by Hayes lying about having fallen asleep instead of admitting that he'd shot heroin and docked cocks with his fuckhot teammate.

But there was nothing.

He was about to send him a message, but something suddenly hit him, more like bombarded him, and he opened the Uber app instead, as his brain began to assault him with a cacophony of aspersions.

No one gives a shit about you.

You're worthless.

You've fucked up your life.

You're not shit without him.

He's too good for you anyway.

You're a nobody and that's how you were meant to stay.

Just fuckin' do it already, pussy.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head a few times, trying to make the thoughts go away, but they wouldn't.

And the next thing he realized, he found himself heading in the freezing cold toward the East Washington Avenue Bridge.

He reached into the pocket of his hoodie for the bottle of whisky he'd stashed inside, removed it, and slugged down about half of it as he walked.

So, how was one supposed to do this anyway?

He hadn't left a note; he knew that was a thing some people did. Should he make some phone calls? No one would probably pick up anyway. Maybe send some texts?

He thought about Ryan first, and that immediately dropped him to his knees right there on the side of the road as he struggled to catch his breath.

This was going to wreck Ryan beyond repair.

"I need you to stay alive. If something happens to you, there's not a fucking chance I survive it. You understand me?"

A tidal wave of regret slammed into him. Maybe he should just turn back. This was crazy. He wasn't really considering this.

This had to be the drugs.

This was just the drugs.

All those commercials that rambled off the list of 4,000 side effects while they showed people happily going about their normal lives, bowling and shit? One of them was always "May cause or increase suicidal thoughts in some people."

Maybe he was just "some people."

He wasn't actually gonna…right?

Getting back to his feet, he turned the bottle upside down and polished it off, tossing it onto the ground next to him and listening to the beautiful sound it made as it shattered into a hundred pieces.

He felt that.

His mom would probably be OK. She knew what a fuck up he was already; why should this be any different? Maybe she could use it as an excuse to finally drink herself to death.

And Osi? He'd cry. A lot. But he'd get over it.

Honestly, who wouldn't get over it?

Hayes had been nothing but an actual burden on everyone in his life for as long as he could remember. His teammates, his boyfriend, his family, Mar.

Mar.

JT.

Fuck.

He hoped JT would be alright because he knew this would destroy her.

But at least she had Ryan with her again. Maybe they could be each other's rocks or some shit. Hell, the two of them would probably have made it if it hadn't been for Hayes anyway. He'd driven the wedge in between their relationship in the first place. He'd probably be doing both of them a favor.

The league wouldn't give a shit. They'd just write him off as another washed-up has-been and replace him with the next hot, young talent who was willing to sell his soul for a shot at fame.

And the fans? They'd forget he ever existed after a little bit, once they all used this as an excuse to rack up likes and comments on their social media posts as they feigned their devastation.

#gonetoosoon

Fuckin' posers.

The only person he could see this really having an effect on was TK.

He honestly didn't know if his teammate would get through this. Would he overdose in the throes of his grief?

If he knew where he was right now, would TK come for him, the way Hayes had come for TK at the pier?

Only one way to find out, right?

Removing his phone from his pocket, he approached the entrance to the bridge. Opening his message chain with TK, he clicked on his picture, smiling briefly at it.

It was one night when they'd gotten fucked up on the road, before the Isles had hired babysitters for them, and stumbled from their hotel to a nearby Taco Bell. He'd snapped a picture of TK with an entire chalupa hanging out of his mouth and it was a little blurry because he'd been laughing so goddamn hard he could barely hold the phone steady.

They'd had so much fun that night, playing the roles of two dumb, high kids with way too much fame and money just pretending to be normal again for a hot minute. They'd gotten kicked out of the restaurant, it'd ended up all over social media, and they'd had to issue a public apology for their dickhead behavior, but it didn't matter. It'd been so much fun.

Maybe this was just his mind playing tricks on him; maybe this was just a rough spot and life could be fun again sometime soon.

That was possible, right?

He wasn't gonna do this.

He wasn't.

Hayes swayed a bit, the alcohol and pills kicking his ass, clicked "Share My Location" in TK's chain, and shoved his phone back into his hoodie. He took a deep breath and stepped foot onto the bridge above the icy Pequonnock River.