A/N: You guys are the best! Everyone who has given this story so many great reviews, thanks a million times. Plus one. To be honest, I don't like to sequelize a story unless I think there's something more I have to say, but I'm finding that I like this one even better than the first. And it's turning out to be longer than I intended. Probably at least two more chapters before I put this one to bed for good, so I hope you're still enjoying it. Keep the reviews coming - they're really good for my already-enormous ego! Just kidding - but I do love hearing from you.
As with any patient with any disease, Marissa was learning that addicts had good and bad days. And she was experiencing one of the latter. As she sat on the cold planks of the old lifeguard station by the beach, gripping an unopened bottle of vodka in one hand and a baggie of white powder in the other, she fought the tears building behind her eyes. Just get through one more minute, she could hear her sponsor saying. One more second, Marissa. You don't have to do it all at once, just work on the next minute. You can do that.
But she wasn't sure it was true anymore. Sure, things were great with Ryan and Jada, but every other relationship she had was falling to pieces, and she wasn't sure she even belonged in Newport anymore. Her mother sure didn't think so, that much she had made clear during the run-in at the coffee bar the previous morning.
"Marissa?" Julie asked, her eyes doubling in size when they rested on her eldest child. "What are you doing here?"
Marissa rolled her shoulders and placed her order, bracing herself for whatever confrontation was to come. "I, um, I got back into town about a month ago," she answered softly.
Julie's eyes floated to Marissa's side, where Jada was watching the action, her tiny hand gripping her baby-sitter's tightly. "Hi, Jada," Julie smiled. The little girl gave a small wave and then hid behind Marissa's skirt. "So you're back with Ryan?" The saccharine in Julie's voice was dripping, forced, and convincing to neither of the Cooper women. "Haven't you put that boy through enough pain, Marissa?"
Marissa cast her gaze to the bottle in her hand and once again contemplated breaking the seal. The part she hated the most was that Julie hadn't been wrong. Ryan had no reason to give her a second chance, no reason to think that she could, or would, change. And her mother's words only made her feel guilty for the fact that he was trying. He wanted them to work, wanted to believe that they could have their happily-ever-after, no matter how many times he swore he didn't believe in fairy tales.
The movie-night she had shared with him and Jada had been less than stellar after her encounter with her mother. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to shake the funk that she was in, weighing the cost and benefits of dragging him through more of her shit. She was pretty sure that even Jada could tell there was a problem, though she kept her eyes on the screen and let her daddy fight it out with his friend.
"You gonna tell me what's up?" Ryan asked, his arm around her as they reclined on the couch, Jada stretched out on her stomach before The Incredibles on the small television screen in Ryan's living room.
She couldn't tell him. She couldn't admit that she was having any doubts about them. She was afraid that giving him an "out" would only make him take it, and she couldn't bear to watch him walk away. So she shook her head, leaned against his shoulder, and said nothing.
He didn't push, he never did, but his demeanor changed at her silence. She wanted him to trust her, but found herself discouraged that, even after a month together, he didn't. She wasn't sure how much longer she could fight to earn it.
By the time she got home that night, her mind was cluttered with confusion and doubt that she thought she had finally disposed of for good. Did she belong in Newport? Did anyone really want her there? What if there was a place in the world that she was needed and this wasn't it? What if the damage she had caused to all of her friendships was irreversible?
The baggie in her right hand seemed to be tauntingher. You belong with me. She slammed her eyes shut, as if to silence the voices, but they wouldn't leave her alone. The voice of her agent, the message he had left while she was in the shower that morning, was repeating in her head.
"Called the rehab center and they said you were released a month ago? What are you gonna do, Marissa? Hide in Newport forever? You belong on the runway, Baby. And I have reps from three major labels vying for you to anchor their spring lines in Milan. Versace, Dolce, and Chanel.Call me back soon, we'll get something put together. Trust me, when these ads hit, no one will even know you were ever gone."
They all had their "things." Sure, they had each other, but they all had something to validate themselves outside of another person. Summer had her clothing lines, Seth his comic books, and Ryan had his blue prints. They belonged here, had made lives for themselves. She wasn't sure that she could. Maybe she did belong on the runway – it had been the only place she ever felt like she was in control, like she could manipulate a person's taste and opinion of a design just by dropping a shoulder at the right moment or rolling her hip the right way.
But when she had tried to confide in Summer, tell her she was thinking about going back to Italy, her best friend had exploded. Gripping her lighted drawing table for support, she glared at Marissa across the cluttered studio in her home, her eyes narrow and venomous.
"I thought you wanted to get back to who you were," Summer accused.
"I do, Sum," Marissa tried to defend. "But what am I gonna do if I stay in Newport? Modeling is the only thing I've ever been good at."
"Really? Because I think you're the master of running away when things get hard," Summer shot, a feeling of relief washing over her as she stopped worrying about the egg shells she had been walking on since Marissa's arrival.
"I'm not running away. I just thought that I could make up for five lost years, and I can't. You belong here – I'm not sure I do," Marissa said, sinking to the floor and drawing her knees up to her chest.
But Summer was done feeling sorry for her. She stepped around the table and put a hand on her hip. Seth and Jada both knew it meant that she wasn't kidding anymore. She hoped Marissa would get the picture, too. "You know why I belong here? Because I've been here. Sowhat if you missed five years? You think another five is gonna magically change something, Marissa? You think that walking out that door is going to make it better?"
"It's just easier," she whispered, her voice strained and weak, her eyes avoiding her friend.
"Yeah, it is. But it's also lonely and depressing, and fuckin' dangerous when it comes to you," Summer's voice only continued to raise. "You came back here to find the place where you wandered off the path. You go back, and you're gonna be more lost than you were before. Think, Marissa!"
She stood, wanting to be anywhere but there. "I just can't be what everyone wants me to be all the time. I can't pretend like it doesn't bother me," she stated.
"So don't. Let it bother you, face it. Scream at it and then let it go. Look," she stopped and took a deep breath. "we all, against our better judgement, invited you back into our lives with open arms. And if you're just gonna spit in our faces and turn your back again?" Summer stopped and shrugged her shoulders, her head shaking sadly, "Don't stop to say good-bye. Just go."
Marissa hadn't known what to do. She had run through the house, past a confused Jada on the couch, and out the front door. She hadn't stopped running until she got to the beach, to the old tower. Her favorite hide-out, her childhood security. She loved the lifeguard tower at night because it was secluded and no one thought to bother her there. But now it felt cold and alone. It felt empty, just like everything else in her life. Only one thought filled her with a shred of hope.
But he doesn't trust you. She looked at the baggie in her hand. We never leave you, Marissa. We're always here when you need us, the bottle seemed to be screaming. She reached for the cap and tightened her grip, hoping to silence the thoughts. One drink would make it all go away. It would make everything go away, all of the pain and the torment would dissipate. And no one would have to know. It would help her get through just one more minute, one more night. She could worry about everyone else tomorrow.