Page 54 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

She’s usually more supportive, especially if I come to her with things. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her about the tour. She could be on some maternal protective kick, too. She could be trying to protect me more now that I’m older and clearly struggling, whereas when I was a kid, I fled to the shadows like a vampire. I groan loudly, leaving the dumpster and walking back to the apartment.

People make crazy decisions all the time. I usually don’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m somehow barred from doing it too. Part of me wants to call her back and tell her that she doesn’t get to decide to be an authority figurenow.I’m not asking for her blessing. Oddly enough, I’m surprised Jorge isn’t the one criticizing me for everything. My best friend has seen it all with me, been through the trenches of my breakup beside me. I think he cried almost as much as I did initially because he’s a sympathy crier and didn’t know how to help.

I’m taking it as a green light.

Jorge gave Eli my address deliberately. He probably knows something I don’t, which is fine because I intend to figure it out for myself. It’d be stupid not to take advantage of Eli being with meandsober. Maybe…I can help him. Finally, I can get him to see that he’s better than shitty pills and being so closed off—that he’s better when we’re together.

That’s what I’m sticking with anyway.

I climb the stairs with something like ambition swirling inside me. Pushing through the front door, I see the living room is empty. Frowning, I go to my room and find Eli curled in a ball, sweating and shivering. He’s got a pot by his head with some foamy bile already in it. What had the doctor said he’d been taking again? Vicodin?

Perching behind him on the bed, I run a hand down his bare back while he moans weakly. “What can I do?” I ask.

“I need my medicine,” he croaks.

“The stomach stuff? Is it in your suitcase?”

His eyes pinch shut, arm weakly tugging the pot closer. “I’ll just throw it up.”

I chew my lip, mind racing through what knowledge I know about withdrawals. With Oliver, he had to go to a facility where they gave him these alternative drugs and slowly weaned him off. Eli hasn’t had anything in two days. Did the hospital not give him resources? I’m sure they must have. This shit can be lethal depending on the severity of your addiction and how often you use whatever drug. He moans again and whimpers, toes flexing like they’re cramping.

“Let me call someone,” I tell him, brushing his hair from the back of his neck.

“No,” he grumbles.

“It’s dangerous to do it this way. Like…really dangerous.” I swallow hard.

“I said no, Phoenix. Either get me my medicine or shut the fuck up.” There’s no heat to his words. In fact, he’s almost exhausted. It's like he can’t be bothered to mean what he’s saying.

I should call someone, at the very least, a drug hotline or whatever. Taking out my phone, I quickly search for just that, but he smacks my hand. “You need help. I’m not a doctor,” I tell him and pick up my phone again.

“Goddammit!” he yells, this time full of heat. His head shoots up, eyes wild and wet. Through chattering teeth, he says, “I’ve done this before. Many times. I’ll puke, my body will hurt everywhere, I’ll be bitchy and mean.” He takes a breath, cheeks visibly green. “I’ll probably shit a lot, too. It’s not like heroin. And I don’t take the stuff enough for it to kill me. Just…let me be miserable, okay?”

“You shouldn’t be vomiting with an ulcer.”

He laughs bitterly. “This isn’t even my first one, I’m sure. It’ll get better.”

Fuck he’s stubborn. “Fine. What can I do, then? Other than ‘get your medicine.’”

Flopping back on his side, he moans before barely getting his chin over the lip of the pot to heave. Nothing comes out, thankfully. “Give me the Zofran.”

“That, I can do.”

Ihaven’t slept in two days.

It’s not that I try to compare every little thing Eli does to my younger brother, but I do it regardless. I didn’t witness the ugly parts with Oli because he was always in some facility whenever he decided to get clean for a few months. That’s not the case with Eli. During the day, he’s restless and sick. He catnaps when it all gets to be too much. He’s wide awake at night, hungry, and bags under his eyes.

I wasn’t going to pass out and leave him to his own devices.

Last night, I almost did and caught him trying to sneak out at 1 am. We argued, and he threw one of Kelly’s sandals at my head. Then, I wrestled him to the ground until he gave up his fight. Currently, I’m nursing a cup of coffee while he showers. A few times, he’s tried to get me to have sex. It feels wrong now that I know how much he’s struggling, so I’ve been saint-like and refused him.

That part hasn’t been as easy as I’d hoped because,apparently,my cock is the devil.

From my research, the worst of his physical withdrawals should be over with for the most part, so I want to get him out of the apartment for some fresh air. I could use it, too.

It says online that he might go into a depressive state of mind. He could even become suicidal, depending on his brain chemistry. I’m scared shitless that will happen. Kelly is coming home on Sunday. It’s Thursday, now. I’ve debated asking her if he can stay with us until I can get him to cough up whatever is happening with his aunt and house. On paper, it seems like a good idea, but I know Kelly isn’t going to want to deal with our drama.

All in all, I don’t want Eli alone.

---