CHAPTER TWELVE: ROSE

The Town

After

I am living one day at a time. I am trying and failing to live one day at a time. On the worst days, I realize that I am nowhere close to finding the acceptance, serenity or wisdom that everyone in recovery claims is so important.

My sponsor is adamant that I need to attend more meetings. Except they just make me want to use. I'm not sure how listening to people's tragic stories and staring at their leather faces is supposed to inspire me to stay sober.

I promised Jasper I would get to know some of the other guys in recovery. He thinks I need the camaraderie. I think they are a bunch of degenerate fuck ups and I'm better off on my own.

Junkies have hollow eyes and battered souls. They carry their stories on their backs and their scars in their bones.

I look at them, and I feel like I know them. I know their torment and their anguish. I know their longing and their pathetic excuses. I hate that they see exactly that when they look at me. I hate them.

There is only one person I really need. Jasper says I'm wrong. But he doesn't know her. He doesn't know what we were.

The meeting half over, I try to stay present. I find myself toeing at the layered cracks in the cement floor. I can only listen to the same people share the same sad truths so many times.

Maybe there is something wrong with my brain, but this place just makes me want to get trashed and lie facedown in my own puke.

I listen to all that they have lost: houses, jobs, loved ones. I find myself resenting their sob stories because their losses couldn't possibly compare to losing Bella.

I tell myself that it was my addiction that lost her, but I know deep down that I am the one who ruined us. It was one choice. One day. One impulse. It was a lifetime of lies.

I share with the group. I tell them just enough without really telling them anything at all. They look at me the same way I look at them.

I usually leave as soon as the meeting is over, but I promised Jasper I would make an effort. Never mind that I purposely came to the later meeting because I knew he usually goes to the earlier one. I don't need him keeping tabs on me.

I drink my fifth cup of coffee for the day, pretending that it doesn't taste like lukewarm bath water. I stand next to the refreshments table out front like a fool, eating stale, store-bought cookies and avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone who passes me in the dark.

A leggy blonde approaches with a smile. I've never seen her here before. I look at her without meaning to. Big blue eyes and delicate features. But she's also twitchy and dirty. She is ugly beautiful.

"Edward, right?"

"Yeah."

She is in my space. Her body and her voice and her heavy mascara. She smells like sex.

She reaches for a styrofoam coffee cup, practically pressing herself up against me in the process. When she has it in her hand she is still right there, standing in front of me, close enough that I can see every sin in her eyes.

"I'm Rose." I somehow doubt that is actually her name.

She plays with the empty cup, picking at the rim. She has filthy fingernails that make my skin crawl.

"Smoke?" she asks, pulling a rumpled pack of cigarettes from her bag and holding it out to me.

Maybe just one.

"I quit." I say the words too loudly.

I watch her press the cigarette to her lips and hold my breath as she lights it.

"I bet your wife nagged you forever," she says between drags, motioning to my wedding ring. I've been wearing it. I don't care if Jasper thinks it's self destructive. I need something.

"My kid hates it when I smoke," she says nonchalantly.

"You have a kid?" I don't know why this surprises me. Most of the people here have kids.

"Yeah."

There is something familiar and unsettling about her.

"How long have you been clean?" she asks.

I consider telling her everything. My overdose. Detox. The way it felt the first time I got clean. Like I was invincible. My relapse.

"I'll have six months next week."

Her eyes go wide, as if six months is six years. "No shit." I don't want to ask her how long she's been sober because I'm not entirely sure that she is.

She volunteers the information anyway. "I have a solid day." Even that is probably a lie.

She holds her cigarette with a shaky hand. Nicotine is not her usual poison. Her blackened fingertips are her tell.

I want to get away from her and everything that she is. I want to snatch that cigarette from her hand and hold it to my lips until it is nothing but ash. I want to empty out my wallet in a liquor store and swallow anything that burns going down. I want pockets filled with pills.

My entire body twitches and trembles. "I should go."

She grabs hold of my wrist. "Hey, do you want to go somewhere?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," I respond with nervous laughter, rubbing my free hand over my face as I try to pull away from her.

She lets go of me, with a flick of her wrist. "Relax. It wasn't a proposition. Don't flatter yourself." She looks at me with utter disgust, as if I have wronged her in some unforgivable way.

I pass two brightly lit liquor stores and go home to that dark house, trying to forget about the woman with the charred fingertips.

I spend half the night in the dining room, scraping off every last bit of wallpaper. It's stupid, but it feels important.

Bella didn't call me for weeks after she saw me with Wren.

We are back to talking now. She mostly asks about my recovery. She makes me feel like an honest man.

Maybe one day I'll be able to show her the dining room. Maybe never. But I'll finish it all the same.

It's past midnight when I crawl into bed, so tired that I barely notice the cold sheets.

The morning comes too quickly. I'm still under the covers when the phone rings from the kitchen.

I trip down the stairs and pick up on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

"Edward."

Jasper.

"I told you not to call me on Saturdays."

"I worry when I don't hear from you, man."

"I know. I've just been... busy."

"Is busy code for something?"

"Yeah, it's code for fuck off," I tell him, only partly teasing.

"Meet me for coffee at noon?"

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"I said alright."

When it comes to Jasper, I've learned it's better not to argue. He's a persistent motherfucker.

He was married once. He had a wife and a kid. He lost them both to his habits. And even though they live across the country now, he says that his daughter will always be his greatest accomplishment. His daughter. Not his sobriety. He never talks about his wife and I'm not sure if the memories are too painful or if she simply doesn't matter.

Jasper does this thing where he hangs up without saying goodbye as soon as he feels that the conversation is over. While it's mildly annoying, I like his predictability.

Bella calls midmorning. Always on a Saturday. I tell her about my week and it feels like the most normal conversation of my life.

She asks more questions about Wren and I answer them the best I can. It's not awkward or weird. It's just an honest conversation with weight.

She asks about Wren's mother. I tell her as much as I know. She can hear the disdain in my voice.

"Do you want to meet her?" I ask nervously.

"Wren's mom?"

"No. Sorry, I meant Wren."

She doesn't answer right away and I immediately regret the question. Other than phone conversations, we haven't even spent any time just the two of us. I'm going to scare her away.

But she surprises me. "That would be really nice," she says. And I swear she's smiling when she says it. I swear I can see it. "When do you see her next?"

"Tomorrow."

She doesn't respond right away and I hold my breath.

"I think I can make tomorrow work," she finally says.

Tomorrow.

I walk to the coffee shop with the craziest grin on my face. I am high on possibilities.

Jasper is waiting for me at a table out front with two large coffees and blueberry scones.

"You look good, Edward," he smiles as I sit across from him.

"I feel good." It's the truth.

He stares as I sit. "Are you going to tell me why?"

I wasn't planning on it. "I'm meeting up with Bella tomorrow."

He raises his eyebrows at me. "Do you think that's wise?"

I don't care what he thinks is wise. "Why do you say that?"

"I just think at this point in your recovery, seeing her again may not be in your best interest. You need to focus on you."

"I know I could do this with her by my side," I try to explain. He doesn't know her.

"You're wrong. You became this with her by your side. She can't do this for you, Edward. Your recovery is yours."

"It's just lunch. She wants to meet Wren."

He shakes his head. "Only you know what you can handle."

Except I have absolutely no idea what I can handle.

"Sometimes I just feel like..." Jasper looks at me expectantly while I try to find the words. "It's like I'm treading water with all of my clothes on and I just want somebody to reach out and pull me to shore. And when I'm talking to her, I feel like the water isn't so deep. It's like I can stand."

There is no pity in his face. Only understanding. "I want to tell you a story," he smiles.

Here we go. "Well maybe I don't want to hear your sad story."

He looks at me with those eyes that haunt. "Maybe you don't know what's good for you."

He has a point. "Alright, let's hear it."

"There once was a man with a vegetable garden."

"If I had known this was going to be a hippie story..."

He ignores me. "One day he discovered a chrysalis hanging from one of his plants. He checked for several days to see if the butterfly had emerged. One morning, he came out to find the chrysalis nearly transparent, the butterfly's wings visible beneath the thin casing. The man watched the butterfly struggle. He watched it for hours."

"Let me guess, the butterfly dies."

"No. You're not listening."

"So far, this is a thrilling story," I tell him, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He smiles as he speaks. "After hours of seemingly no progress, the man decided to help the butterfly. He couldn't bear to watch it struggle. Gently, he started to open the chrysalis with his fingers. The butterfly fell to the ground in a crumpled heap."

He stares at me. I don't know what my reaction is supposed to be.

"I hope you'll tell it again, Jasper."

"I'm not finished."

"Of course not."

"He waited for its wings to unfold as they dried out but they never did. The man's intentions were good, but he didn't realize that the butterfly's struggle to emerge was an essential part of its survival. The struggle is what pushed blood into the butterfly's wings, allowing them to properly form.

"The butterfly's wings remained crumpled and smashed. It was never able to fly."

"Is this about Alice and Wren? Because you don't know what you're talking about if it is."

"You're not the man in the story, Edward."

"Then what was the point of all of that?"

"I said you're not the man in the story."

"Are you telling me I'm the fucking butterfly?" I ask incredulously.

"Yes. You're the fucking butterfly."

I rub my hands over my face.

"Fucking shit, Jasper."

"So, will I see you at tonight's meeting?" he asks, shifting gears.

"Umm, yeah. Yeah, I'll be there."

"Alright, I'll see you later." He waves me off and I wish I hadn't just agreed to that.

I return our mugs to the coffee shop. Jasper is one of those earth loving hippie freaks who refuses to use disposable cups.

It's nearly empty inside. I'm surprised to see Alice behind the counter.

I immediately look for Wren. I spot her on the far side of the shop with her nose pressed against the window.

"Alice, why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't know I was going to have to come in. I was on call. Besides, my sister said she was going to take her today." She rolls her eyes. "I should have known better."

I watch Wren's face as she stares expectantly at the parking lot. She hasn't seen me. I can feel her hurt even though she is trying to hide it. I can feel her torment at waiting, even though I never waited.

I always knew my mother wasn't coming back. I never sat in front of a window or watched the clock. But that doesn't mean I didn't hope she'd show up one day out of the blue. I tried not to think about the possibility because even if she did come back, even if she was standing directly in front of me, I wouldn't know her. I wouldn't even see her.

I walk over to Wren and nudge her shoulder. "Hey you, you want to go throw rocks in the turtle pond?"

She doesn't even look at me. "I can't. My mom is taking me to the zoo today."

"She's not coming today, Wren. But I can take you one day soon," Alice says quietly, trying to placate her.

"She promised," Wren insists, her voice filled with tears.

Alice looks to me and I have no idea what to say to this child who deserves so much more than waiting by a window.

"Sometimes people make promises they don't know how to keep," I try to explain.

"She promised."

"I know."

"She crossed her heart and hoped to die."

Hoped to die.

"I know."

She still won't look at me.

"Come on, let's go throw some rocks."

"I don't want you," she scowls. She doesn't mean it, but she does. It hurts and it doesn't.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Wren."

There is something else I want to say, but I stay quiet, leaving the coffee shop without another word. She's not mine.

I hate her mother for doing that to her. I hate my own for being too much of a coward to even give me that much.

Leaving Wren here to wait seems cruel, but I'm not sure what else to do. I can't save her from feeling pain. I can't save her from anything.

The bells on the glass door jingle as I walk out. I make a wish. For a little girl to have a mother who is late instead of a mother who doesn't show at all. I would give her that if I could.

The tables out front have filled up in the short time I've been inside, everyone soaking up the sun. It's perfect weather for taking a little girl to the zoo.

Not ten feet away is the woman with the fingernails, who claims to be named after a flower.

She is wearing the same clothes I saw her in at last night's meeting and is draped all over some guy whose pockets are filled with dirty money.

I can't help but stare.

She tries to peel herself off of him, but he holds on possessively. They are disgusting. She looks over at me, her eyes lit with mischief and something far more sinister. "Do I know you?"

"Rose?" I'm breaking the anonymous rule.

She looks through me. "Edward, right?" I hate the way she says my name. Like it's dirty.

"I'll be right back," she tells the guy with ugly teeth.

She stands in front of me, her fingers tugging at the ends of her hair. She is lit out of her fucking mind right now.

"Did you have a change of heart?" she slurs with a crooked smile.

"You're high."

"Jealous?" There is no longer anything beautiful about her. She is only ugly.

The door behind me swings open and before I can process what is happening, Wren has wrapped herself around Rose's leg.

I am blind and deaf and dumb.

-HL-

A/N:

As always, many thanks to Susan and Kim for being my girls.

CC and Peri give me endless support and I love them for it.

It feels good to be updating again. Chapter 13 will be up in a week :)