I couldn't help thinking about Craig being upstairs and how much I'd missed him. I knew he was seeing little miss Manny, I knew. And I knew I wasn't really okay with that but there was nothing I could do. She'd won. Like it was some sick contest for his affection. Whatever.
I started the coffee. I kind of liked making coffee, it was ritualistic. Measure the water, count out the scoops, put the filter in just so. I tightened my robe's belt around me, hugged myself. I shouldn't really be wanting Craig. I had Jesse. I liked Jesse. I really really liked him. That had to be enough.
Marco came downstairs, sleepy, his black hair sticking up in little tufts like a bird.
"Morning," he said and kissed my cheek. I smiled.
"Good morning," I said, and poured him a cup of coffee. We were so domestic. It was fun. It was sort of play-acting but still, we both liked it. I made the coffee and he made Italian dinners and we rented DVD's and drank wine at night because we were all grown up now. All grown up.
He raised his eyebrow watching me pour two cups of coffee, knowing full well who the other one was for. Well, he could raise his eyebrow all he wanted. I'd enjoy Craig while he was here. Carefully, so carefully, I carried my two cups of coffee to the bottom of the stairs and held them tight as Manny ran by me.
"I'm late," she said as she rushed past. I watched her go, a blur of shiny black hair and tight jeans. Manny was beautiful, I could admit that. That was all I could see about her that could attract Craig to her. Maybe he was shallow. Maybe he was all about looks.
Up the stairs and down the hall to his room. Craig's room. It had previously been our spare room. Just a nothing room with a spare dresser and a spare bed. Now it was magic. It was occupied by my favorite person, my most beloved and most missed person-Craig Manning. How I wished he could be my love love. But of course I was chronically denied all that I desired.
Little knock at the door and I came in. He was laying down on the bed dressed only in jeans. I caught my breath. He was so goddamn sexy I couldn't stand it, couldn't stand that Manny got to have him and I didn't. He sat up when I came in, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, sniffling, reaching for a tissue on the bedside table. I handed him the cup of coffee I'd brought and he thanked me, and I noticed how tired he looked. I noticed his puffy and bloodshot eyes. His constantly running nose.
I was going to leave. There was no reason for me to stay. On the dresser by the door I saw the little packet of white powder. I was sheltered and naïve but I knew it was drugs, probably coke. I looked at him with wide eyes. Drugs? It didn't surprise me. I didn't know if that was sad or not.
"What is this?" I said, looking at him, holding the packet between my fingers.
"I didn't think things would get this bad so fast," he said, and despite the wide eyed innocent look I knew he was lying, or about to lie. My mother didn't raise a fool.
"Craig, what's bad? Are you doing coke?" I said, peering at him, trying to make him tell me the truth, although I knew he wouldn't. I knew him.
"Manny is," he said, holding the coffee cup close to his chest, holding it in both hands like he wanted its warmth.
"Manny?" I said, setting the baggie of coke back down where I found it, sipping my coffee, "Craig, Manny is in high school. She's a cheerleader. She hangs around with Emma Nelson. I don't exactly think she's doing cocaine. You, on the other hand, are practically a rock star. You go from city to city touring, living that life. And, and, you have a mental illness, which predisposes you to drug use. So tell me again, who's doing the coke?"
He swallowed hard and hung his head, sighed. I waited. I could wait him out. Then he looked up at me with that look, those eyes. I felt the tight feeling around my heart. Why didn't you choose me?
"Okay, Ellie, it's me. It's mine, but it's no big deal, I swear,"
Drugs. Cocaine. It didn't surprise me. I picked up the little baggie again and went over to him, sat next to him.
"Why?" I said, not sure of what to say. He shrugged.
"I don't do it much. It's just like a little pick me up, a confidence boost, you know?"
I nodded, sipped more of my coffee. It had cooled considerably. We were so perfect together, me and Craig. I thought that that summer when we hung out everyday. I missed that summer. I missed him.
"Well, what's it like?" I said, holding the bag up and gazing at it. White powder. It looked like flour or confectioner's sugar.
"It's a rush. It's pretty cool," he said, still tentative, not sure where I stood on the issue. Craig was all about self preservation sometimes. Now was one of those times. That was okay.
"Yeah?" I said, my tone softening, curious. I looked at my bare thigh next to his denim one, I could feel the rough material of his jeans against my skin. I saw the light freckles across his shoulders. I saw the fullness of his lips, the slant of his nose. I still had him memorized.
"Uh, yeah," he said, and smiled a little. I could still smell the hint of his cologne from last night.
"Can I try some?" I said, dropping my hand with the baggie of coke down on his thigh. I could feel the muscles beneath his clothes.
"Yeah. Sure," he said, and scrambled to get out the supplies. I watched him and smiled my tiny wicked smile. I had to admit to myself that this probably wasn't a good idea. But I wasn't really filled with good ideas when Craig was around.