Tracks (Rock Bottom) (34 page)

“B
etter. My muscles ache a bit.”

“Hmm,” I say. We’re silent for a moment. I think he catches on to the fact that I’m distracted, so he gets up from the table and flops down on the couch instead. He turns the TV on and flips through the
guide.

About an hour goes by, and I’m proud of myself that I’m getting so much work done. I pause for a moment to rub my aching eyes, looking over to where Jeremy is in the living room. He fidgets, readjusting himself every few seconds, tapping his foot.

He looks over towards me, as if sensing I’m staring at him. I give him a forlorn smile. He looks like a caged tiger, trapped in a small space and uneasy.

“I’m bored,” he complains.
“I think I’m going to go out.”

My heart sinks. He did finish his taper this morning, and the nurse felt okay to leave, saying she would be returning only during the night.

“Okay,” I say in a small voice.

He stands, walking past where I’m sitting into my bedroom. I try to continue to read, but after I read the same sentence in my book 7 times, I give up and try to concentrate on
not hyperventilating instead.

He comes out of the room and stops in front of me. I look up at him, trying to make my face emotionless. He’s wearing jeans and a black hoodie, obviously trying to look
inconspicuous.

“Aren’t you going to call Rich?” I ask, still in a quiet tone. I’m trying to d
isguise the panic in my voice.

He smiles lovingly at me. “No, I just want to be alone for a while. I’ll be careful, promise. I have my cell on me. I’ll get out of your hair for a
while and I’ll be back soon.”

He pets my hair for a moment. I’m scared to even get up and hug him go
odbye.

“I love you,” he says, leani
ng to kiss the top of my head.

“I love you…”
I say, my voice trailing off.

He turns, grabbing the keys to my
car and opening the door. Once the door is closed, I run to the window, peering out of the curtain so he couldn’t see me. I see him lope down the steps and start walking down the street.

The hyperventilation begins as soon as he’s out of sight. I drop down to my knees in front of the window, turning to sit on my floor with my head in my hands. Where is he going? Why wouldn’t
he volunteer that information?

Do I follow him? What do I do?

He didn’t take my car, so I figure he can’t be going far. I get up from where I’m sitting and return to the table. I try to continue studying, but I can no longer concentrate, my chest filled with anxiety. After about an hour, I give up and walk over to my TV. I flip mindlessly through the guide, as he did this morning. I look over towards the left wall, where we had set the mirror he had broken to be put out with the trash later. The pressure on my chest increases.

Four hours later, I’m a mess. I’m pacing the floor, running over to the window by the door every few seconds to see if I would see him appearing. My car was still there, unmoved since this morning.
I call out of work, much to Sean’s dismay. I watch the noon, four, and five o’clock news to see if any reporters had spotted him around the city.

About a half hour after I became a useless hysterical lump on my bed, curled up into the fetal position, I hear my front door open. I per
k my head up and hear it shut.

I scramble out of bed and run down the hallway into the kitchen, where I’m met with Jeremy carryi
ng plastic bags.

He cocks
an eyebrow at me, “Hey, babe.”

I can’t talk. I frantically look him up and down from a distance, my eyes lingering at the crook in his arms tryin
g to see if there are new track marks. He sighs and puts the bags on the counter, extending his arms to me. They’re clean.

He gives me a wary look and starts taking the groceries out of the bag. “Did you
get your work done?” he asks.

I’m still silent for a moment. “Where
were you?” I finally whisper.

He puts down the jar he was holding and walks over to me. “Hey,” he says, soothingly. He rubs the back of my head, pulling me into his chest. “I went for a walk, and then I stopped to get u
s some groceries. That’s all.”

That’s all
for 6 hours? I don’t think so.

“Jeremy,” I say, almost in a scolding tone. He pulls away from me, holding my hands in his. I look up into
his eyes, expecting an answer.

His face look
s sad. “I went to see my mom.”

Oh.

I consider that. “How did that go?”

He shrugs. “She’s happy to see me clean, but I didn’t go there to make her happy. She’s one of the reasons I use so I wanted to start facing my demons. Tell her I don’t want to be in contact with her in any way again. And that I wouldn’t be helping her with the store anymore.
So I picked up a few things I wanted from her home and that was that.”

One of the reasons he uses? I assume he meant because she forced him to be a child
star. And because of Jonathan.

I suddenly feel like a major jerk.
“I’m sorry,” I said, both for his mother and my reaction.

“
It’s okay, Dylan. I don’t blame you for worrying. But, if you were going to be this much of a mess, you should have talked to me about it.”

I nod. “What’s for dinner?”

He laughs, walking over to the groceries he purchased on the counter. My anxiety is quelled as we start cooking and laughing with each other, as if the whole detox never happened.

            
 
The next morning, I wake up early for school, determined to get there today. I’m sore and satisfied from a night with Jeremy. I look over towards him, seeing him stir as well. He opens his eyes and looks at me. We smile at each other.

“You’re so beautiful, especially in the morning,” he whispers to
me. “You make my heart ache.”

I gently run my hand down the side of his face before getting up and walking towards the bathroom. I shower and dress, and before
I know it, it’s time to leave.

Leaving Jeremy for the first time without the nurse being home makes me extremely nervous. I know eventually, though, if this relationship is going to work and be
come healthy, I have to trust him.

When Rich knocks at my door, I’m still waiting for my coffee to brew. I invite him in just as Jeremy walks into the living room. They smile and hug each other, talking about how things have been. Rich tells him how good he looks, and Jeremy thanks him.

After my coffee is in my cup, I tell Rich I’m ready to leave. Rich nods, and finishes his conversation with Jeremy about when he thinks he’d be ready to resume the tour. Jeremy said he would be meeting with his executives today, which helped quell my fear. At least he’d be kept busy.

After a kiss and a hug from Jeremy, Rich and I head out the do
or and to the car.

In my Criminal Law class, I’m so happy to see Theresa. We hug and talk about how much Jeremy has improved. After a few moments of talking, Scott sits beside me, giving me a quick hug. I’m proud to inform both of them that he went out yesterday alone and came home sober. There
sa looked thrilled, Scott sour.

After school was done, Theresa asked me if I wanted to grab a coffee in the shop a short walk from campus.
I agreed due to missing her, and texted Rich to tell him to pick me up at the shop in 30 minutes.

I love coffee shops. The smell of the intoxicating liquid surrounds us as we walk in the door. After getting a cup and finding a table, I ask her about
Sean. “How are things going?”

She beams. “Really, really well. I think we actually
might start talking marriage.”

I gape at her. “Marriage?
After only a few months?”

“We’ll be engaged for a while, of cou
rse. But, yeah.”

“Wow,” I say, astonished. This is the girl who only a few months ago hadn’t even experienced a second date.

“Especially since I won’t have to worry about paying my half of school, thanks to Jeremy.” She smiles happily at me, thinking back to that time. I smile at her. Jeremy is kind of a big, generous softie.

I see Theresa glance at the table next to us, and then quickly glance back at me. She g
lances once more at the table.

“What?” I question her, my brows furrowed.
I look at the man at the table next to us, reading a paper. I squint to read the headline. I gasp as I read,
Is Jeremy Mason a Single Man?

“Dylan, you know you shouldn’t read that nonsense,” Theresa tells me quickly, as I stand to walk to the front of the shop. I grab a paper from the wire stand where they sit, and head back to our table. When I sit, I throw open the p
aper. Theresa sighs, defeated.

The picture under the heading of the article is of Jeremy, in the clothes he wore yesterday. He’s leaning over the table, giving a professional-looking young woman a kiss on the cheek.
Another picture later in the article shows him handing her a velvet bag, and her placing it in the pocket of her pants.

My heart beat is in my throat. He lied to me. Lied! After everything I’ve done for him, after everything he
put me through, he lied to me!

I try to calm myself enough to scan the article. I got the general gist. Everyone will be thrilled to hear he’s no longer sick…Where is Dylan Ackhart…who is this new mystery woman…what is i
n the bag…

I fold the paper back up and place it under my arm. I take a long sip of my coffee.
I’m shaking with rage. Theresa has been silent the whole time I was skimming the article.

“Anythin
g you want to talk about?”

How can I talk to someone who’s never had their heart broken? Who is currently blissfully happy with
the love of her life? No way.

“No, I’m fine.”

She nods at me, sadly. “I wish you would talk to me like you used to.”

I swallow hard.
“Me too.”

Just then, my phone vibrates. I read the text from Rich, telling me he’s outside. I say a quick and stoic goodbye to Theresa, trying not to lose it until I can get back to the house.
I jump in the back of the black car, simply nodding to Rich, who can see on my face not to bother me.

When we pull up to my house, I get out of the car and thank Rich quickly. I shut the door and walk up the steps as Rich pulls away. Entering, paper still in my hand, I walk into the living room. He’s there, watching a fo
otball game, smiling up at me.

“Hi,” he says, giving me a loving smile. I try to ignore the burning it causes in my heart.

You lying, backstabbing asshole. Liar, liar, liar!

“You…” I
start, my voice angry. His eyebrows furrow.

“What?” he asks me, surprised.

“You…you lied to me!” I scream at him. He jumps immediately off the couch, rounding it to stand in front of me.

“What
?!” he asks again, astonished.

I throw the paper at him so that it hits him in the chest. He catches it awkwardly, adjusting it in his hands and looking down at it. I see his fac
e darken.

“Oh shi
t,” he says, under his breath.

My heart increa
ses speed to an abnormal pace.

“That’s right! Caught, Jeremy!” I’m frantic. My brain shuts down.

“No, Dylan. I know these pictures look…really bad. But it’s not what you think.” He almost makes it sound like I think he’s cheating on me. Oh, if only our relationship was that simple, to have a petty fight over that.

“I don’t think you’re sleeping with her, Jeremy. But I do see you’re handing her
a bag. Is she your mule, now?”

He looks at me,
mouth gaping open.

“Is she? You know what? Let me see your arms. And in between your fingers and your God damned toes. I’m not an idiot!” I scream, walking over to him and ripping his sl
eeve up to the top of his arm.

He rips his arm away from me. “Dylan, stop! I’ll show you
okay, just don’t grab at me.”

When he rips his arm away from me, I lose it. I just, lose it.
There’s no other word for it.

I start smacking him. Not just smacking him, but beating him. I punch his chest, his arms, and his stomach
, over and over. I push him and he stumbles backwards. The whole while, I hear myself screaming at him, “You bastard! How could you? How could you lie to me? After everything I’ve done for you! How? Tell me how you can do this?!”

It was like all of the anger, resentment, fear, stress, and exhaustion came up in one ultimate rage blowout. After I feel my limbs beginning
to tire, I wind up, my hand far behind my back. I prepare to give him one final blow. He’s so busy trying to protect his stomach; he isn’t concentrating on what I’m doing.