JENNIE
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—Four years ago…
"Where are we going?" I ask Lisa as she helps me into the old beat-up pickup truck.
"You'll see." She smiles, closing my door before practically skipping around the truck.
She's in a good mood. A really good mood. In fact, she's happier than I've seen her in a while.
The last year hasn't been easy. We've had our fair share of ups and downs. With more downs if I'm being honest. But I finally feel like things are starting to get back on track. We've had a pretty good month. I just wish I could say that about all the months before this one.
Even though she promised me she would quit drinking and using drugs nearly a year ago, she's continued to do so. The only difference is, she's been more secretive about it. I eventually catch her, she promises it won't happen again. Until the next time that is, and the cycle continues to repeat.
She's been trying though. She'll stay clean for a few weeks and then slip, but she always finds her way back. It's been a rough road, but I know we can get through it. We have to. Because honestly, to me there isn't another option. I see the progress she's made and how hard she's working to get her life back on track.
She graduated high school, even though no one thought she would. I spent countless hours studying with her and helping her with extra credit to get her grades up enough to pass. I don't think I've ever been prouder of her than when they called her up on that stage and handed her her diploma.
She decided not to go to college right away. Truth be told, I don't think school is for her, and that's okay. She's been working part time at McCulley's, the local welding manufacturer here in town, and while I know she doesn't love it, the fact that she's doing it anyway speaks volumes. It means she's trying.
I'm ten months into my first year of nursing school. It's a lot harder than I expected, but like Lisa, I'm keeping my eyes on the prize. Between the money we're both saving, and the type of employment I can get once I graduate, it's only a matter of time before we're watching Parkview disappear in the rearview mirror. And once that happens, I don't ever plan to go back.
"You're being very mysterious tonight," I tell Lisa when she settles into the driver's seat next to me.
She grins, firing the engine to life. It rumbles loudly, causing the seat to vibrate beneath me.
It's an absolute POS. Rusted, chipped paint. Cracked and torn seats. A passenger window that won't budge. But Lisa bought it for herself and that makes me love it. Because for the first time ever, she has something that belongs to her. And with her home life the way it is, she needs that.
I know she was hoping to leave her father's the minute she turned eighteen, but truth be told it just wasn't feasible. There's no way we could afford an apartment and save money at the same time. So, like many things, Lisa is sacrificing for me. Though most nights she stays at my house anyway, much to my mother's dismay.
Mom never used to allow it, and now that I'm an adult, she still doesn't really allow it. More like she just looks the other way. I think at this point she's just done dealing with me and she knows that if Lisa is with me, then I won't be in her hair.
It's sad, really. I've always wished I could have a better relationship with my mom, but it's like she wasn't hardwired with the motherly instinct to love her children no matter what. She's not great with the twins either, though she treats them a hell of a lot better than she's ever treated me.
"Mysterious?" Lisa comments after a long moment, dropping the truck into gear.
"What's up with you?" I quirk an eyebrow. I can't pinpoint it but she seems different...
"Nothing, why?"
"You just seem… I don't know. Happy."
"And that's a bad thing?" She pulls out onto the street.
"No, of course not." I shake my head, staring at the side of her face.
I thought she seemed off before we left but I didn't really question it. Now, I don't know. I can't seem to shake the feeling that something is up.
Lisa isn't an overly happy person. In fact, more often times than not, she's stressed out and miserable. A product of dealing with her father. To see her in such rare form, I don't know, it makes me suspicious.
"So…" I continue, "where are we going?"
"Well, I guess I can tell you now. Jack's having a party down by the lake. Thought it might be fun for us to join in on the festivities. It's been so long since we've just hung out with friends."
"Jack?" I question. "As in your ex-dealer, Jack?" I give her a pointed look, but because she keeps her eyes on the road she doesn't see it.
"Relax, Jen. He's not a dealer. He's just a friend. And he's clean now." She holds up two fingers. "Scout's honor."
"Clean? Is that why I saw him outside of Barkley's the other day looking higher than a kite?" I accuse.
"He was probably just high, Jen. Weed isn't the same thing as heroin or pills."
"Gateway drug," I mutter, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "It starts with weed but how long until he's back on the hard stuff?" I ask a valid question that she doesn't have a chance to answer because I keep talking. "I thought you two didn't hang out anymore."
"We don't. Well, we hadn't. But we ran into each other a couple of weeks ago and got to talking. He's a good guy, Jen. I don't know why you hate him so much."
"Um, because he was supplying my girlfriend with drugs," I say like it should be obvious. "That's why you didn't want to tell me. Because you knew I wouldn't want to go," I accuse, my good mood quickly deteriorating.
"No, I thought it would be a nice surprise."
"A nice surprise?" I gawk at her. "Have you lost your mind? Why in the world would I want to go to a party where I know there will be drinking and drugs, with my girlfriend who I'm trying to keep from drinking and drugs?"
"You know, you used to be a lot more fun." She laughs. She actually laughs, like that's somehow supposed to be funny.
"Are you high?" I accuse, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of my stomach.
"What?" She snorts. "Of course not."
"You are. You're high right now." If her overly happy behavior wasn't a dead giveaway, her reaction to my question sure is.
"Jennie." She laughs again. "You're being ridiculous."
"Am I?" I start scouring the truck. I pull open the glove box and start to rummage through the contents.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"If you're not high and you haven't been getting high then it shouldn't matter what I'm doing," I tell her, slamming the glove box shut when I find nothing inside other than some papers and an old manual.
"Seriously?" She throws me a sideways glance when I unlatch my seatbelt and start sliding my hand under the seat.
I know I'm getting close when she reaches across the console and grabs my arm.
"Jennie! What the fuck?"
"Focus on the road," I bite at her, shaking off her hold.
Continuing to feel around, my fingers graze along what feels like a Ziploc bag. I grab it and pull it out, expecting it to be trash. What I find instead sends my entire world spinning on its axis.
It's a Ziploc bag, alright. A Ziploc bag filled with a syringe and needle, a bent, burnt looking spoon, and a small plastic bag filled with a white powdery substance.
I seriously can't believe what I'm seeing.
"What the fuck?" The instant the words are off my lips, Lisa makes a grab for the bag but I manage to pull it back just in the nick of time. "What is this?" I all but scream through the cab of the truck.
"I can explain."
"Explain what? Explain why there's heroin in your truck? You said you quit. For weeks you've been telling me you haven't used."
"And I hadn't. I just… I had a really bad day last week. I needed something to take the edge off."
"Last week?" I shriek. "Have you been using this entire week?"
"It's not as bad as you're thinking." She tries to downplay the situation.
"Are you high right now?"
"What, no."
"Lisa, tell me the truth. Are you high?"
It's not always easy to tell. Sometimes she's like a zombie who can barely keep her eyes open. Other times she's like a Tasmanian devil, jumping so fast from one thing to the other that you can't keep up with what the hell is going on. And then sometimes she's insanely happy. Kind of like when a person gets a couple of drinks in them and is starting to feel good.
When she doesn't say anything, she answers my question for me.
"Pull over," I demand.
"What?" Her gaze flips to me.
"Pull the truck over."
"Stop acting crazy."
"Lisa, so help me god if you don't pull this truck over…"
"I'm completely fine, Jennie. I wouldn't have gotten behind the wheel if I wasn't."
"You're not fine. You might think you are but you're not. And I don't want to be in this truck with you driving. Now pull over."
"I'm not pulling over. You're making a big deal out of nothing."
"Am I?" My voice shoots up an octave.
"Just relax, babe. Everything is good."
"Do not babe me. I can't believe you lied to me… again. I can't believe you let me get in this truck with you. I can't believe I keep letting you do this to me. Over and over again. Is it ever going to stop? Are you ever going to stop?"
"I've got it under control." She tilts her head from side to side, cracking her neck.
"Do you? Because I don't think you do. I think this whole time you've been showing me what I've wanted to see and not what's actually going on. You treat me like I'm stupid. Like I can't see past your charades."
Before I realize what's happening, she jerks the truck off the side of the road, slamming the breaks. The tires skid along the gravel that lies right beyond the pavement before she pulls the truck back up, doing a U-turn in the center of the road.
"Lisa!" I brace against the door.
"You don't want to go to the party, we won't go to the party." Her nostrils flare, her mood shifting so fast I can barely keep up with the change.
"This isn't about the party. It's about you."
Why can't she see that I just want what's best for her? That I just want to help her?
"It's about me." She laughs angrily. "You mean it's about you trying to mother me."
"What?" I draw back. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"This is why I never wanted you to find out about the drugs. Because ever since you did, everything has been different. You're uptight. You worry constantly. And you try to police everything I fucking do. Well I'm sick of it. I'm a grown fucking girl and I can do whatever the fuck I want." With that, she slams the gas pedal, sending the truck lunging forward.
"Lisa, slow down," I plead, her behavior unpredictable and erratic. "You're scaring me."
It's like she doesn't hear me. She doesn't speak, doesn't react, she just presses forward, the truck engine protesting as she pushes it to its limits.
I grab the door, my heart pounding heavily against my ribs.
"Lisa!" I try again, watching the dark fields pass by us in a blur.
In that moment, I realize I didn't put my seatbelt back on. Grabbing the strap, I get it over my shoulder right as I feel the truck pull to one side. I don't know what happens, or how it happens. But all I know is one minute we're upright and the next I feel like I'm flying through the air.
The sound of glass breaking and metal crunching accosts my ears, then everything goes black…
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