Chapter Three – Day 4 Late Evening
"Bozhe Moy Wheeler! You scared me!" He runs over and moves me out of the way so that he can shut the oven door and turn it off. Despite everything, I find myself thinking about how gentle he was, given his haste I would have expected him to shove me violently but he did not do that…
"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" he screams, recalling my attention to the present situation.
His words sting, I feel as if he just slapped me and I yell back, though there is something about yelling at Wheeler that is oddly comforting. "NYET! I AM COLD! IT IS FREEZING ON THIS DAMN 'TROPICAL' ISLAND!"
He stares at me, a shocked look on his face and then says in a more normal voice. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled, and I shouldn't have called you crazy."
So now he will not fight with me? Because he does think that I am crazy! And damaged and need to be humoured! My heart sinks through my stomach and I want to cry again but I will not give him the satisfaction, instead I answer sulkily. "Do not treat me like a baby! I am not some fragile trinket that you are afraid is going to break!"
"Babe…you gotta understand where I'm coming from…do you have any idea what that looked like?" He asks.
"Like someone trying to get warm?!" I tell him, half annoyed, half confused. What else?
There is a scared, haunted look in his eyes as he replies. "No. Like someone with a death wish!"
The words hang between us for a moment and then I get mad and yell back, I am not even sure what I am feeling at this point. "I DO NOT HAVE A DEATH WISH!!!"
"Then why were you sitting in front of a gas oven? If you weren't overcome by fumes, you could've blown yourself…and anyone else within range…to pieces!" He says.
It was lit! I use the oven all the time, more often than he does that is for sure! I was not going to blow anything up! "I…" I was going to explain, tell him why he is wrong… but what is the point? I am a nuisance, he thinks I am a mentally impaired invalid and he wants me to go away until I am fixed. I sigh and shrug, deflating as I give up. "I guess I was not thinking."
"I guess not," He sighs. "If you were cold, you could've just asked for another sweatshirt. I have others that might be a little thicker."
Sweatshirt? Oh no! I look down and feel my cheeks go red. "I am sorry. I did not mean to keep it for so long…and then I was cold and it was there and…"
"Linka, it's ok. I don't mind." He says kindly. What else can he say?
"I will make sure to wash it and give it back to you…" I tell him.
He is still determined to be nice though. "You can have it."
"Nyet, I cannot take your shirt from you…" I am hesitating though, I do want to keep it, as protection from the loneliness as much as the cold, but I cannot tell him that.
"You're not. I'm giving it to you. It's from a few years ago, so it doesn't fit me so good anymore. Besides, back home, when a girl wears a guy's shirt…it makes him feel…well, it's nice to see."
My heart is doing strange things, how do you do this to me Yankee? It is beginning to sink in though, that his treatment of me is not that of someone who does not care… I wish I was not having so much trouble thinking clearly.
"So how many times have you given a girl your shirt?" I ask, telling myself it is probably something he does all the time.
"Just once," He meets my eyes and does not look away as I look deeply into his… Trish? Was that not the name of his ex-girlfriend? But his look is so intense, the meaning finally seeps in, just one, this one. "Oh."
I want that to be true so badly, I want to curl up in his arms and forget the rest of the world. I cannot though, just because he is still my friend does not mean I can burden him. "What are you doing here anyway Wheeler? Were you watching me, keeping an eye on me?"
"No, I was hungry and was just gonna get something to eat." He explains.
As ridiculous as it seems, I am disappointed and cannot think of anything to say. "Oh."
"Yeah, 'oh.' I don't wanna fight with you Linka." He persists.
"Because it is not good for me?!" I am back to being sulky. I have no control over this, my emotions are a rollercoaster and it is all I can do to hang on.
"No, because I just don't want to." Now he sounds sulky, I guess I am not a good influence.
I want to provoke him, I want to argue, to let out some of the feelings that I can barely keep below the surface. "You were never one to back down from a fight before."
"Those were different. Those were stupid little quarrels…what you're doing now…you're just trying to push me away…further away."
Is he right? Maybe... I do not know anymore. I used to push him away to see if he would come back, see if he was serious or just amusing himself. Nyet, I do not want him to go away but I do not want him to stay because he feels sorry for me either.
"If you're cold, I can make you some tea," He offers.
He is trying to be nice but I just cannot bring myself to respond in kind. "I can make my own tea."
"I know you can…but I'm already gonna be in the kitchen making something for myself, so I'm offering to make it for you." Now he is being reasonable with me, he can really be annoying sometimes.
"Nyet, I can…" I start to say but he interrupts.
"LINKA WILL YOU JUST LET ME MAKE YOU A FREAKIN' CUP OF TEA! Jesus…"
I am making him fight for every inch, but though he does not know it, he is making me feel better just because he is trying… I have missed this. "OK FINE! If it will make you feel better to boil my water, then go ahead!"
Then again, maybe he just does not trust me… I know I am being paranoid but I cannot seem to help it. "God forbid, I do it myself! I might get the urge to dump the kettle on myself. Is that what you think?"
"I was more concerned with you getting the urge to dump it on me." He mumbles as he goes to make the tea.
I cannot help it, I laugh. It feels good, normal, and I have to fight the urge to hug him. Instead I head to the common room and make myself comfortable on the couch.
I am tired and really just want to curl up here and sleep, but I know I wont be able to, so I fidget about and try to take my mind off it… how long does it take to boil a kettle?
Wheeler finally comes in and hands me the tea. "Spasiba."
"No problem," He has a bowl of cereal, he really needs to eat better, maybe I should make something for him… if he trusts me enough to eat it.
I cannot help it, I think of the blintz that Boris gave me and stare vacantly into my tea as I start to slide back into the dark place.
Then Wheeler tucks a blanket around my shoulders and sits next to me, and I am back in the present and a little warmer. I smile at him.
"I know why you're mad at me." He says.
I shake my head, I am not angry anymore, I do not want to argue anymore, I just want to sit here with him and pretend everything is okay for a while. "I am n-"
He does not listen. "Bull. You think I sold you out; that I didn't back you up when the doctor was going to admit you into the rehab program. I thought it was best for you Babe. I didn't want you to stay. I didn't want to leave you there. I was arguing with myself over what I wanted, and what was probably in your best interest. I didn't want to abandon you. But I didn't think that we could give you the help you needed."
"I do not need help. I am fine." I lie. "And I am not mad at you…not anymore. I was at first. But I know you are trying…just…do not try so hard. Let me decide for myself what is best for me… please Wheeler?"
"Ok," He says. I am not sure if that means he agrees or if he is just letting it go for now.
The tea tastes good and he sees me smile again. "A little bit of milk and a teaspoon of honey, right?"
"Da. This is perfect. Thank you again." I tell him.
He grins at me. "You're welcome." It really does please him to do something nice for me…
"And for the shirt." I add.
"Sure. And like I said, I have other hoodies if you need more. Thicker ones. Bigger ones so you can wear them over other clothes." He is trying to be kind but…
"You will not need them? Are you not cold?" I frown slightly.
"I have plenty," he says non-commitally, avoiding my gaze.
He does not say anymore but I know what he is thinking. I drink my tea, feeling its warmth slide down inside me, but it does not have the effect it usually does, I still feel chilled.
"This is not normal is it?" I say at last.
"What?" He had been lost in his own thoughts, but somehow I know he was still thinking about me.
"Being so cold all the time. No matter what I do, I have the chills." My voice sounds small and vulnerable in the stillness of the night air. I hate sounding like that.
Wheeler puts his arm around me and pulls me to him, rubbing my arm as if he is trying to warm me up… it is working but perhaps not in the way he intended… something else I will not be telling him.
"No Babe…that's just it…it's completely normal…for someone who…" I groan inwardly and try to stop him. "Do not say it." But he ignores me. "…is going through withdrawal."
"What would you know about it anyway?!" I am irritated. My emotions are out of control again but normally I am the one with all the answers, and I hate that he knows more than I do.
He swallows and sounds sad as he replies. "Unfortunately, more than I'd like to."
Alarms are going off in my brain, I know something is wrong but I am not sure I want to hear it… he would not have, could not have… he is not the sort. "You have been reading too many of those stupid pamphlets the doctor gave you. I read them all too. None of it applies to me. Why can you all not see that?!" Please let it be that…
"Linka… there's something I need to tell you. Something I've been wanting to share with you… I was gonna wait, but now seems like as good a time as any." Wheeler begins.
I feel my muscles tense and my breath catches in my throat. Nyet Wheeler, you are better than that… I do not want to hear if you have taken drugs! I need you to be you, my self confident, fun loving, lazy, over-protective, flirty… perfect, Yankee!
He moves his arm away and gives me a hurt look, I guess he realises I do not want to hear, but then he says something that makes my blood run cold. "Don't worry Babe, I'm not about to confess my undying love for you, so you can wipe that 'Dead man walking' look off your face and start breathing again."
I know I will spend a few sleepless nights wondering whether that means he does not care for me or he was just not going to tell me. I cannot go there now though, my emotions are too messed up without that. Instead I pull his arm back around me and snuggle against him, hoping that is enough to let him know that he had misjudged the reason for my reaction.
I will hear whatever he wants to tell me, that is what friends do and if it is drugs, perhaps we can work it out together. "So what did you want to tell me?"
"I wanted to tell you about my cousin, James." He said.
I am confused but I let him talk. I like listening to his voice. He tells me about how popular his cousin was and that he admired him, I am still not sure why he is telling me this, but when he tells me about how in love James was with his girlfriend I smile.
"That is…sweet." I say.
I have often wished it could be like that, unfortunately most people seem to see dating like they are trying on a pair of shoes to see which ones fit. I may not show it but I have always been romantic and for a moment I wish that Wheeler was more like his cousin instead of flirting with every pretty girl in sight. Would you like me if I was plain Yankee? I wonder, fairly sure that I would not like the answer. I am glad that he has continued and I do not need to respond further.
"Why have you never mentioned him before?" I ask next time he pauses, and his answer made it clear why he was telling me the story. James was a drug addict.
"…And one time, he went out to dinner with Beth and her parents, and her dad confronted him about how glassy his eyes were and told him he needed to get help. James said he didn't want help. He was going to do what was best for Beth and the boys, and leave her. I loved my cousin, but at that moment, all illusions I had of him were shattered. How could leaving Beth and his sons be what's best for them? What was best for them was for them to have their husband and father at home being responsible, not out acting like a reckless teenager."
"So did you tell him that?" I asked, but I was surprised, does he really think it would have been better for James' family if he had stayed?
"I wish I had. I spent the summers at my grandparents' house… it was their way of politely getting me away from my dad, who drank a lot. " He is telling me about how his grandmother stood up to James to protect him and how seeing her grandson in that condition made her cry.
"I am sure it was hard for her seeing her grandson like that." I say, not really sure how to comfort him and still half thinking about how quickly he passed over the mention of his fathers drunken behaviour… I wonder if he realises just how much of his childhood he has just shared with me.
"Yeah…it's hard watching someone you love go through that," That was directed at me and I know it… it makes me feel good for a second but I still want to protest, I am not like James, I did not choose this. His next words distract me however.
"He wanted you to go and get drugs for him?!" I am genuinely shocked, but only for a second. You tried to get him to join you, a little voice says in the back of my mind. James only asked him to fetch some, while I used his attraction for me to try to convince him to join me. Whose behaviour was worse? If I did not do it to myself, does that not mean I had less of an excuse for my lack of control?
"Yeah." He replied.
I had to ask. "Did you?"
He shakes his head. "I thought about it…but I didn't. I told my Pap what James wanted me to do, and he called the cops. They wanted me to go through with it so they could bust him. I went to meet this guy and a bunch of undercover cops came out of nowhere and arrested him. James was pissed at me. He said they call people like me 'narks.' He didn't get his drugs…and now that I officially knew about his problem, the whole family was more open about talking about it in front of me…no more hiding. We still had to keep it from my younger cousins. James hated me…or at least I felt like he did."
"He did not hate you Jason. Drugs make people do and say things they do not mean. Look what it did to Boris…he drugged me in order to feed his own addiction." I tell him, silently adding my own shame…and I tried to condemn you to the same fate so that you would be with me.
"Yeah, I know. But back then, that was the most horrible feeling I've ever felt in my life…up until now." He sounds like he is in pain and I lift my head from where it is resting on his shoulder to look into his eyes.
"Why now?" I ask.
Meeting my gaze he replies. "Because now I feel like you hate me,"
"I do not hate you." I say quickly.
"Then why won't you let me help you?" he is almost pleading with me now but it ignited my temper.
"Because I do not need help!" I snap at him.
"That's exactly what James said. He said he was going to get clean and do it on his own. Just let the drug work it's way out of his system, and he'd be fine. You wanna know what happened? Two days after he told us that, Beth found him passed out on their couch, an empty bottle of pills on the floor."
I do not want to hear the answer but I ask anyway. "Did she find him soon enough? Were they able to save him?"
"He wasn't passed out Linka, he was already dead. Overdosed on Oxycontin. So we've both lost a cousin to drugs."
I feel sick and in my mind I see Boris as I last saw him, passed out on the ledge with Gi telling me that he is dead. When I am sure I can speak without throwing up I say, "I am sorry about your cousin. When did he…?" It comes out as a whisper.
"A few months before I joined the Planeteers." He replies.
My voice is still little more than a whisper, I cannot seem to manage anything louder. "You barely had time to grieve."
"I know. That's kinda how I dealt with it. This new experience, new people, being away from home…finding different things to focus my attention on," He gives me a hug, I get the point but I am still thinking about his cousin.
"It has just recently been a year since you lost James then." I say.
He is quiet now. "Yep."
"Are you doing ok?" I ask, getting worried.
"No." His voice is quiet and devoid of his usual cockiness.
I wrap my arms around him and lay my head down on his chest. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
I feel him press his lips into my hair and then rest his head on mine… this is nice.
"Don't make me go through that again. Don't make me watch someone I care about go through withdrawal alone. It can't be done. You need help. Please. Let me help you." He begs and I feel terrible again.
I do not want to refuse him but there are still more reasons why he should not help me. "I… you should not feel responsible for me. I can manage on my own."
"Weren't you listening to a word I said?" He is angry with me and hurt but I am frightened and I cannot back down.
"Da I was listening, but I am not your cousin, or mine. Do not make me into something I am not, I do not have any bad friends, or bad habits to escape from, or were you not listening to me?" In my head I tell myself that I am stronger than they were… I have to be! "The Bliss is gone, there is no more and there is nothing else to take, you made sure of that! All I have to do is ride out the illness, just like any other. I do not need help to do that."
"You're wrong." He says quietly. I cannot tell what he is feeling now, but I know it cannot be good. This is going to end our friendship, he will give up on me now and I know that the impact of that will hit me later but I just cannot give in.
"There is nothing for you to do Wheeler." I pull out of his arms and stand up, letting the blanket fall to the floor. "If you want to be a friend, treat me like there is nothing wrong instead of acting like I might suddenly grow a new head, and if you cannot do that, just leave me alone!"
I run from the room, not wanting to see what effect my words have on him... or let him see my tears.
To Be Continued…
And don't forget, to get the full affect of the story, you HAVE TO read Wheeler's side of the story in Chapter 3 of Becks7's Co-Dependents!