Page 89 of False Start
They aren’t for me though. They’re for him.
“Oh? And here I thought I was coming to say goodbye toyou,squirt.” He laughs it off, standing up from the chair and walking toward her despite her request.
Nia’s eyebrows furrow in the middle, but she doesn’t ask for clarification. He drops his hands to the bed’s metal support bars. “You broke my heart too, kid.”
“You can’t be my friend and my dealer,” Nia says without breaking his stare.
With a nod, he turns to walk away but freezes.
The scene is like something from a movie, and I’d laugh if I wasn’t on the verge of crying.
“Proud of you,” he says to her, letting go of the bars before he shifts his gaze to me. “Proud of you too, Catie.”
And then, he’s gone.
For the first time ever, I hope it’s for good.
37
NIA
The social worker is an asshole with no empathy, making me wonder if, one day, I’ll become desensitized to the very people I want to help once I’m in my field.
It’s the first time I’ve had a thought about my future since…
Since finding out about Lonnie.
I’ve held myself in a permanent state of limbo ever since, unsure if my place was here in Devil Town or if I was ready to bolt once more and start new.
Discharge takes hours, and by the time Cat has me in the passenger seat of her car again, it’s dark. “What time is it?” I ask her.
“One in the morning,” she says, sliding the key into the ignition.
“What day is it?” I ask the better question, my teeth starting to chatter, and while I’m convincing myself it’s from the brisk chill of the night wind, I’m not stupid.
I’m already withdrawing now that the Narcan has run its course.
“Sunday now,” she tells me.
“It was Slam Night.” The realization is meant to be internal, but it comes out of my mouth anyway.
She missed a bout.
“Let’s get you home, Nia,” she says, as if the rest isn’t important.
She says it like I have a home.
Fighting her words is an impossible task. The leather collar still grips at my neck, proof that, without her, I can’t even undo what we’ve become.
I don’t know what we’ve become, so I lean my head on the window and wish the thoughts away.
It doesn’t work.
I’m standing awkwardly at the door, unsure where to go from here. She’s already in the kitchen doing whatever Cat Harvey thing is next on her never-ending list of things to get done.
There’s an entire planet between us, hundreds of conversations we haven’t had yet, a galaxy of things we’ve both shattered that need mending.
But all I want is to be held by her again.
