But somehow I know that’s not true.
I mean, of course she’ll come.
There’s movement in the bushes directly behind me.
“Hey,” I whisper kinda loudly. “Hey, it’s me.”
The moon breaks through the clouds again. The light is dull and full of shadows. Sue Ellen is there in front of me. She has on a knit hat and a long, thick scarf. Our hands tremble as I hold hers gently in my own.
“Thanks for coming,” I say, like an idiot.
She shivers and then presses herself up against me. The warmth and smell of her makes me instantly aroused again.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispers back to me.
I put my arms around her and bring her in even closer, saying, “Yeah… I know.”
Her neck stretches up so her mouth is very close to mine.
“I’m scared,” she tells me.
And then we kiss until she pulls away.
I read through the script.
“It’s okay. I could never hurt you.”
And that’s the truth.
Or, at least, I’m gonna make it that way.
Ch.8
A couple of my friends here have already moved on to Day Program, which means they’re staying at a kinda corporate-suites hotel in town—only coming to group during the day—sort of an intermediate step between inpatient and the real world.
Almost everyone here transfers to Day Program for at least a week or two before being discharged and, surprisingly, Melonie seems to think I’m almost ready.
I guess the plan she’s worked out with my dad is that I’ll do the Day Program for about a month and then maybe try ’n’ get an apartment with my friends here—eventually finding work, most likely at a coffee shop or something terrible.
Of course, I’ll keep going to twelve-step meetings every night, and I’ll attend the alumni group here on Wednesdays.
Honestly, I normally wouldn’t’ve agreed to any of this.
I’ve always said I would never live anywhere in this country besides San Francisco, LA, or New York.
I guess I just need the feeling of being where things are happening.
But for now, well, I’ve agreed to try Arizona—though only because Sue Ellen is gonna be sticking around for a while, too. Not that we’re gonna stay here for more’n a couple weeks. Sue Ellen’s agreed to come to San Francisco with me just as soon as she can figure it out. Her mom’ll help her get an apartment there, and as soon as I finish the second half of my book, I’ll use the advance money to pay her back—because, of course, I’ll be living with her.
Considering how things would be without Sue Ellen, I really am super fucking grateful for her. She’s given me the hope and promise of a good life. And I’d like to think I’ve done the same for her.
We pass notes back and forth throughout the day, we meet in the woods every night, and I sing songs to her by the fire—even though we both pretend that we have no contact at all.
There’s something really great about all this. I mean, if we weren’t on this contract and we didn’t have to sneak around, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun. We both get to have this exciting little secret—something to hold on to when shit gets too hard. As for the whole duplicitous, lying thing, I really don’t feel all that bad about it.
When I first got here and was receiving all this criticism from every damn counselor in the whole place, I used to fight back as hard as I could. Anything I disagreed with I had to argue about—you know, prove my point. But the more I fought, the more they accused me of reacting against my own denial.
“Just take in all the feedback we give you,” they’d say. “Sit with it, then ask yourself if it fits. If it doesn’t fit, don’t worry about it—let it go. But if it makes you feel the need to defend yourself—if it triggers a response of anger or resentment—that probably means it’s hit a nerve and needs to be explored further.”
Well, their rule here prohibiting us from forming romantic relationships with one another doesn’t hit any sort of nerve in me at all. I’ve sat with the idea and I’ve decided it doesn’t fit. Besides, it’s not like this thing with Sue Ellen negates the rest of the work I’ve been doing here—or the progress I’ve made. If anything, it’s because of the progress I’ve made here that I’m able to sustain a relationship with someone so, you know, normal.
Anyway, I’m not sure whose idea it was to go horseback riding today, but I’m actually pretty excited. The ranch is in a tiny town about forty miles away. There are mountain trails on all sides leading to condemned silver mines and abandoned Native American cave dwellings.
The only disappointing thing is that Sue Ellen can’t come with us—I mean, because of our whole no-communication/contact thing. But she still lent me the money to go riding, so that was really cool of her.
Besides me and Kevin, there’re, I think, seven or eight people going. Both Cat and Tim have rental cars, so we’re just gonna be, like, caravanning over there. All of us waiting are excited and loud and talking all at once. Well, all of us except me. I’m smoking one cigarette after another.
It’s fucked up. I mean, as much as I wanna get outta this place, in some ways I can’t imagine ever leaving. The harshness of winter has melted away with the snow and the icy wind. The sun finally has some
