Tracks (Rock Bottom) (33 page)

Looking in the doorway, I have to repress the gasp almost escaping my lips at the state of my room. There is glass all over the floor. My dresser
is tipped over, clothes spilling out. The windows are smashed open and the curtains are ripped from above them. All of the clothes in my closet lay haphazardly on the floor. There are blood marks staining some of the broken pieces of glass.

I see Jeremy, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back towards me. I quietl
y enter the room, thankful I have sandals on, and hear the crunching of the glass beneath them. Jeremy doesn’t turn, just continues his heart wrenching sobs. His shoulders shake up and down with the force of them.

I reach him, with his hands over his face, and sit next to him on the bed. Slowly and carefully, I put my hand on his shoulder. He turns to me quickly, and I freeze, afraid. But he wraps me tightly in an embra
ce and cries onto my shoulder.

I sob onto his shoulder as well. We hold each other for a long time, rocking ba
ck and forth. His hands twist in my hair, my hand grabs the back of his lovely blonde locks.

Finally, he says in a broken voice, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry Dylan. I can’t believ
e I said those things to you.”

“
Shhh. I know you didn’t mean them.” But they still hurt.

“I never want anyone to say those things to you. I…I don’t deserve you. But I don’t want to live without you. Please don’t leave me. Give me another chance. Don’t let me push you away.” He sounds frantic.

I shake my head into his shoulder. “You haven’t. You haven’t pushed me away. I’m here, and I love you.”

“You don’t ever have to be afraid o
f me. I would never hurt you.”

Would he? “I know,” I whisper, running my hand down his back.

“I’m going to get better, and we’ll be together. Forever.”
     Will he?

“Forever,” I promise.

            
 
Surprisingly, Scott, Jeremy, and I were able to get the room back in order. I lost my mirror and had to replace the dresser, but other than that, the damage wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Nurse Beverly bandaged Jeremy’s hands, and I moved him and his things into Theresa’s room while we had the window repaired.

A week
went by, and Jeremy improved dramatically. His shakes were less noticeable and he was doing well on his Librium taper. His anxiety and aggression, I was told by the doctor the day after the incident, wasn’t uncommon in people while detoxing. But thankfully, he has had no violent outbursts since. He had been getting shots for his yellowing skin, and the puffiness around his face was almost gone.

Scott had been coming around more to help me try to get back on track with studying. Often, we were disturbed when I had to attend to Jeremy’s needs. Scott never seemed frustrated, and he and Jeremy were actually civil to each other. Jeremy even shook his hand and thanked him for coming over to help keep me on track.

The night of the incident, I stayed up all night with Jeremy, wiping his head with a cool cloth as sweat poured down his face. He shook almost uncontrollably, his teeth clattering. He moaned in pain most of the night, only stopping to get short bursts of sleep.

The second night after the incident, Scott had come over to study with me, when we heard a knock on the d
oor. When we answered it, I was aghast to find the weasel faced boy, standing as if everything was fine on my top step. He had the audacity to come looking for Jeremy at my house! Scott told him in so many words that if he ever showed his face around Jeremy or I again, that he better pray Scott simply would call the police, because jail would be the least of his worries. Weasel-faced boy ran off after that like the coward he is, and we don’t expect we’ll hear from him again.

Je
remy seems to be coming back to his normal self as time goes on. He’s able to sleep more and more with each night, the pain in his muscles and stomach subsiding. I enjoy being with him again, happy to see him in less pain. We laugh together, snuggle, watch movies, and cook dinner together- just as it was before he left for his tour. We made love again, finally, last night. In that respect, he’s definitely recovered.

I didn’t realize how having him around me could be so distracting until I bombed my first exam in one of my classes. Okay, I didn’t bomb it per se, but I got a C+. In my mind, that may as well be an F.

Looking at the C on the computer screen in the library, I can’t believe my eyes. Scott, who is standing by me, pats me on the shoulder. “Want to go out for a drink?”

I’m trying to hold my hysteria together. A
‘C’? Me? Oh my God, oh my God…

“Yeah, that sounds really good actually. But,” I think, sighing, “
maybe I should get home to him.”

“Come on, Dylan. He’s fine. He’s doi
ng better and he’s a big boy.”

I look up at Scott’s hopeful face. “Okay,” I agree. Since Jeremy is strictly no alcohol now, I haven’t had a drink in a long time. And since I’m so upset about my now falling grades, I need one.

Scott takes me to a little bar not far from campus, and it’s filled with students, even though it’s two in the afternoon. We grab a table and sit, and he orders us two beers. I’ve never been a beer drinker, but somehow it seems like a really great idea at this moment.

“So, is it safe to say Theresa is officially moved out?” he begins, trying to
make casual conversation.

I sigh. “I guess so. Things seem to be going really well ov
er there. Most of her essential items are gone already. She really loves him.” And she’s blissfully happy all the time. And passing school. And can eat at a restaurant without getting photographed or called a cow. And doesn’t have to worry Sean will die in the night…

Scott frowns at my forlorn expression. “Dylan, you have to concentrate on your grades more. I know you’ve been, uh, distrac
ted. But this is serious now.”

“I know, I know,” I say. At least I can always count o
n Scott being painfully honest.

“I want to tell you something,” he says. The tone of his voice makes me look up at him, my heart picking up speed. His expression is serious. The waitress puts our beers in front of us and, wit
h a thank you, she walks away.

I wait patien
tly for him to begin speaking.

“I think you need t
o leave him, Dylan.”

I give him an
exasperated look. This again?

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Seriously, jealousy and person
al gain aside.” He puts his hands down. I listen intently.

“Dylan, I’m not sure if I can phrase this correctly. So just b
ear with me.”

I nod.

“The man has a lot of issues. You have a lot of issues. I only know so much as you’ve told me, and it’s not a lot but it’s enough to know that there are issues.”

I glare at him
. Nice, now I’m a crazy bitch?

“Just stop, ok
ay? You know what I mean. You’ve just gotten out of your home, really, for the first time. For a long time you’ve been defining yourself based on others. Or based on your achievements. You can’t define yourself by other people.”

“I know that,” I snap. “Where are yo
u going with this?”

“What happens if he starts using again, Dylan?” Scott says, leaning over the table. “He’s claiming he’s only quitting for you. So if he starts using again, you’re going to think it’s becau
se you’re not worth anything.”

Duh.

“Right…” I say, as if that should be obvious.

“But he shouldn’t be quitting because of you. He should be quitting
for himself. And then if he starts using again, you’ll know it’s because he doesn’t feel like
he’s
worth anything. And you’ll be able to work on yourself and not have to carry the burden of him around. You don’t need more burden in your life. It’s enough you have to deal with the press, but basing your self-worth on a drug addict won’t help you, either.”

I look down at the table. We sit in silence for a long time, as Scott allows me to reflect. He’s right, of course.
Absolutely right.

“I don’t know how to be without him,” I whispe
r. Anxiety rises in my throat.

“Well, that’s a problem.” Scott’s caring voice caresses me. “He’s addicted to the drugs. The drugs are a tool for him. They create false feelings in him. They make him feel things he can’t feel on his own: happy, relaxed,
self-confident, and peaceful. They’re a constant distraction from dealing with his past. Don’t you realize you’re using him in the same way?”

I lo
ok up at him, my eyes tearing.

“It isn’t healthy, Dylan. This relationship. You need to get out, even if it’s just until you can both deal with things on your own and come together as two complete people. You can’t help each other if you’re both dealing with your own issues. And many of your issues are the same.”

I’ve never been much of a prayer, but I’ve been praying a lot lately. I beg God, silently in that moment, to give me the strength to know what to do.

When I get home, I’m surprised to see Jeremy up and around, washing dishes in the kitchen. The most famous rock star in the world washing dishes in my kitchen. I’m almost over the strangeness of it. Almost.

“Hey, you’re late,” he says, smiling at me, putting a dish in the dishwasher. He walks over to me and
kisses me lightly on the lips.

“I grabbed a drink with…” I paused for a nanosecond, “some friends.”
I don’t know why I feel so guilty about being around Scott when it comes to Jeremy. Maybe it’s because of our topic of conversation today.

Jeremy looks
at me suspiciously, but he let it go.

I put my bag down by the kitchen table as Jeremy
closes the dishwasher. He’s humming a sad, lovely tune. He slinks over to me again, just like he used to, his hair messy and sexy. I smile, my heart skipping as he grabs me around the waist. I put my arms around his neck and we dance, right there in the kitchen.

“What are
you humming?” I ask, quietly.

“A new track I’m writing,” he says, smiling down at me, his navy eyes
close to mine. He begins to sing to me, “
And she says ‘Drown me in you,’/ And how can I resist?/ With her love so perfect, so sweet/ that even I can barely breath./ I’ve lost myself to you/ so you want to lose yourself in me./ That’s alright, baby, that’s alright.”

I recognize the words I spoke to him the first night we made love. I smile widely, embarrassed by the idea of a song written about me.
I kiss him passionately, my love for him overwhelming me. He grabs me by the hair, pulling me even deeper into the kiss. I reach up, unbuttoning his shirt, as he pushes my blazer from my shoulders. His shirt falls to the floor, and I go down for his jeans, undoing his belt. His hands caress my back, undoing my bra.

We find ourselves naked, him on top of me on the floor. He kisses me softly on my forehead, my cheek, and my neck before entering me. He fills me
almost to the point of pain, but it’s always amazing. I moan in relief.

He begins to move slowly, the feeling magnified by the coolness of the floor on my back.
As he makes love to me, he whispers softly in my ear. “I love you, Dylan. I’ll never want anyone else. You’re everything to me, my reason for living. Nothing’s ever meant anything to me before you.” He repeats these things, over and over again, while I sob quietly into his shoulder. I cherish this moment, locking his words into memory, locking his body into memory, until he finishes and collapses on top of me.

Thankfully, I wake up on Tuesday
feeling very well rested, no alarm necessary. My eyes wander up to the clock on my bedside table, smiling when I realize it’s the afternoon. Oops, I guess no class today. I had promised Sean that I would be returning to work tonight so that he no longer needed to cover me. That gives me a few hours at home to rededicate myself to studying.

I turn my head to the left, and see Jeremy finally sleeping peacefully. The light covers his bare chest like a blanket, illuminating him like an angel. His face
has normal color once again. He looks healthier than I’d ever seen him, and very beautiful. It makes my heart ache. As unhealthy as our relationship may be, it doesn’t make me love him any less.

I creep out of bed, careful not to disturb him, and make my way across the hall. I take my time doing my morning routine and have 3 generous sized cups of coffee before I finally sit down at the kitchen table, laptop ready and books in hand.

A few moments after I’ve begun to read from one of my books, I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. I turn, seeing Jeremy rubbing his eyes, wearing only boxers. I smile at him, ogling. “Hi,” I say, cheerfully.

He looks at me, running his fingers through his messy hair. “Hey,” he says, yawning. He sits down in the chair across fr
om me, stretching his muscles.

“How are you feeling?” I question, returning my ga
ze to my textbook.