"Poochie, come out." Tank snaps his fingers. "We're trying to get her to be more social."
Mom gives me a look. Despite how dark I'm feeling, it brings a smile to my face. The only person Tank's cat likes is Tank. And maybe Emma. It definitely hates me.
"Dinner's ready!" Emma calls out.
My mom pats my leg and then stands. "I'll help set the table. You boys wash up and come on."
My phone rings. I look down to see I have a text from an unfamiliar number.
I'm still mad at you but I just thought you should know. Andrew was at the house messing with Rissa earlier. - - Tara
Tank gives up on coaxing the cat out and then glances over at me. "Are you staying? Or do you have to leave?"
I look up. "I'm staying. I just need to make a phone call."
"Good. I'm glad you made time." He walks into the kitchen. As soon as he's gone, the cat comes out from behind the recliner and hisses at me. "Okay, okay. I'm going." I walk into the other room to make my call.
Jonah answers on the first ring.
"First I want to apologize because this is absolutely not in your job description. However, I need you to keep an eye on Miss Blake tonight. Follow discreetly and do not engage. But I need to know that she's safe."
"Of course, sir. I'll let you know if anything doesn't look right."
"Thank you."
I hang up and move back into the living room. For a moment, I just stand there listening to the comforting sounds of family. When I close my eyes, I can picture the scene: Mom moving around getting plates and silverware, Emma at the stove, Tank behind her trying to sneak kisses in when no one is looking.
This is how I want to remember them while I'm gone. The memory will hold me over while I do the hard work of getting my life back on track. Maybe by then I'll finally be in a place where I feel I deserve to convince Rissa to give me another chance.
* * * * *
Dinner was the usual loud, happy affair. Mom didn't make any mention of our earlier conversation and I was more than happy to let Tank and Emma carry the conversation. Halfway through dinner, we found out why Emma was so happy that I'd come when she pulled her hand from her pocket wearing a massive engagement ring.
The rest of the evening was champagne toasts and wedding planning. Emma wants to get married in the spring so they have less than a year to plan everything. Mom and Emma started talking about dresses and cake tasting and Tank looked like his eyes were glazing over by the end of it. I'm pretty sure my brother has no idea what he's in for over the next few months.
I pull into my parking space and check my phone again. Jonah hasn't reported anything so I have to assume that means Rissa is fine. I'm going to have to adjust to not knowing where she is all the time or if she's safe. I haven't earned the right to that yet. Thinking about that just fuels my determination to get started cleaning up my life.
Once I'm upstairs, I open my cabinets and grab all the pill bottles. I carry them over to the living room table and dump them in a big pile. Then I walk back to the bathroom and open the medicine chest in there. I pull out more bottles, some of them with my name on them, some of them in my mom's name, and carry them up front too.
I sit down on the couch and stare at the pile, forcing myself to see what I've become. I have a stash. A fucking stash that I've amassed by lying to my mother. Then the insidious voice of doubt creeps in.
Isn’t it a bad thing to kick medication cold turkey?
Maybe I should keep taking them until I get checked in somewhere.
I've been doing it this long so what will one more hurt?
My head hurts from all the thoughts rolling around in my head. From the decisions I need to make. Before I know what's happened one of the pill bottles is in my hand. I shake out a few. Then I shake out a few more. I close my hand around the pills and squeeze.
I hear the door open behind me but I don't bother to turn around. When Tank sits next to me on the couch, he doesn't say anything. I knew he'd find his way here eventually.
"What happened?"
"Mom didn't tell you?"
"I asked her not to. I figured it might be something that you wanted to keep private. I'm asking you directly so you can decide if you want to tell me or not."
That surprises me. My mom hasn't been particularly good at keeping secrets in the past. But I know this is Tank's way of supporting me. And I know he'll be here to help me however I need him to, whether I tell him what happened or not.
"Short version, I fucked it up."
He nods. "Okay, so how are you going to fix it?"
One of the best things about Tank is that he likes to get right to the point. He doesn't really need a lot of details just goes right to solutions. I also know that if I need him to, he'll sit here with me all night patiently waiting until I'm ready to confide in him. Silence doesn't bother him at all. He uses the time to watch and collect information that might prove useful. It's what made him such a great sniper.
"I'm going to ask for help." Before I can change my mind or doubts can make me second-guess myself, I extend my hand toward him and uncurl my fingers. The mess of pills sits in my palm, sweaty from being squeezed in my hand for so long. "Don't let me fuck up anything else, Tank."
He stares at my outstretched hand and then his big hand covers mine, pulling the pills from my grasp. He stands and then disappears from view.
Mom gives me a look. Despite how dark I'm feeling, it brings a smile to my face. The only person Tank's cat likes is Tank. And maybe Emma. It definitely hates me.
"Dinner's ready!" Emma calls out.
My mom pats my leg and then stands. "I'll help set the table. You boys wash up and come on."
My phone rings. I look down to see I have a text from an unfamiliar number.
I'm still mad at you but I just thought you should know. Andrew was at the house messing with Rissa earlier. - - Tara
Tank gives up on coaxing the cat out and then glances over at me. "Are you staying? Or do you have to leave?"
I look up. "I'm staying. I just need to make a phone call."
"Good. I'm glad you made time." He walks into the kitchen. As soon as he's gone, the cat comes out from behind the recliner and hisses at me. "Okay, okay. I'm going." I walk into the other room to make my call.
Jonah answers on the first ring.
"First I want to apologize because this is absolutely not in your job description. However, I need you to keep an eye on Miss Blake tonight. Follow discreetly and do not engage. But I need to know that she's safe."
"Of course, sir. I'll let you know if anything doesn't look right."
"Thank you."
I hang up and move back into the living room. For a moment, I just stand there listening to the comforting sounds of family. When I close my eyes, I can picture the scene: Mom moving around getting plates and silverware, Emma at the stove, Tank behind her trying to sneak kisses in when no one is looking.
This is how I want to remember them while I'm gone. The memory will hold me over while I do the hard work of getting my life back on track. Maybe by then I'll finally be in a place where I feel I deserve to convince Rissa to give me another chance.
* * * * *
Dinner was the usual loud, happy affair. Mom didn't make any mention of our earlier conversation and I was more than happy to let Tank and Emma carry the conversation. Halfway through dinner, we found out why Emma was so happy that I'd come when she pulled her hand from her pocket wearing a massive engagement ring.
The rest of the evening was champagne toasts and wedding planning. Emma wants to get married in the spring so they have less than a year to plan everything. Mom and Emma started talking about dresses and cake tasting and Tank looked like his eyes were glazing over by the end of it. I'm pretty sure my brother has no idea what he's in for over the next few months.
I pull into my parking space and check my phone again. Jonah hasn't reported anything so I have to assume that means Rissa is fine. I'm going to have to adjust to not knowing where she is all the time or if she's safe. I haven't earned the right to that yet. Thinking about that just fuels my determination to get started cleaning up my life.
Once I'm upstairs, I open my cabinets and grab all the pill bottles. I carry them over to the living room table and dump them in a big pile. Then I walk back to the bathroom and open the medicine chest in there. I pull out more bottles, some of them with my name on them, some of them in my mom's name, and carry them up front too.
I sit down on the couch and stare at the pile, forcing myself to see what I've become. I have a stash. A fucking stash that I've amassed by lying to my mother. Then the insidious voice of doubt creeps in.
Isn’t it a bad thing to kick medication cold turkey?
Maybe I should keep taking them until I get checked in somewhere.
I've been doing it this long so what will one more hurt?
My head hurts from all the thoughts rolling around in my head. From the decisions I need to make. Before I know what's happened one of the pill bottles is in my hand. I shake out a few. Then I shake out a few more. I close my hand around the pills and squeeze.
I hear the door open behind me but I don't bother to turn around. When Tank sits next to me on the couch, he doesn't say anything. I knew he'd find his way here eventually.
"What happened?"
"Mom didn't tell you?"
"I asked her not to. I figured it might be something that you wanted to keep private. I'm asking you directly so you can decide if you want to tell me or not."
That surprises me. My mom hasn't been particularly good at keeping secrets in the past. But I know this is Tank's way of supporting me. And I know he'll be here to help me however I need him to, whether I tell him what happened or not.
"Short version, I fucked it up."
He nods. "Okay, so how are you going to fix it?"
One of the best things about Tank is that he likes to get right to the point. He doesn't really need a lot of details just goes right to solutions. I also know that if I need him to, he'll sit here with me all night patiently waiting until I'm ready to confide in him. Silence doesn't bother him at all. He uses the time to watch and collect information that might prove useful. It's what made him such a great sniper.
"I'm going to ask for help." Before I can change my mind or doubts can make me second-guess myself, I extend my hand toward him and uncurl my fingers. The mess of pills sits in my palm, sweaty from being squeezed in my hand for so long. "Don't let me fuck up anything else, Tank."
He stares at my outstretched hand and then his big hand covers mine, pulling the pills from my grasp. He stands and then disappears from view.
