Which is true—except he’s being such an asshole.
And he’s still pacing, running his right hand over and over through his greased-back hair. It’s weird, you know, ’cause I swear people really do mold themselves to look exactly like they’re supposed to look. I mean, like, take Jason. He’s a young lawyer from Manhattan, and he looks exactly like a fucking young lawyer from Manhattan—sharp, handsome, clean-cut, with expensive clothing and greasy hair and just kind of a greasy slimeball look in general. That is, a very traditionally handsome greasy slimeball look. Not too far off from American Psycho’s Patrick Bateman, you know?
Something like that.
“Jesus, Nic,” he says, louder than he should. “Do you really expect me to believe that? Well, I don’t. And I’m not gonna sit back and cosign your bullshit while you throw your life away—especially since you’re trying to take Sue Ellen down with you. My counselor pulled me aside after group today. She explained everything to me. You’re toxic, man, and as long as you remain in the community, we’re all gonna be unsafe. Besides, you and I both know you’re not capable of loving anybody. I mean, whatever happened to learning how to love yourself first? Whatever happened to taking things slow?”
My body shifts around uncomfortably.
“Nothing,” I tell him, exhaling loudly at the same time. “Hell, I know I still have a ton of work to do on myself. And I know Sue Ellen does, too. But there’s no reason we have to stop doing that work just ’cause we’re not in the program anymore. I mean, even the counselors keep telling us this is a lifelong practice. It’s not like the only way we can make it is to stay at Safe Passage Center the rest of our lives. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is endanger you, or anyone else. But I don’t see how my decisions can possibly do that. I mean, y’all can think for yourselves, right?”
Jason’s pace speeds up even more. “Nic, listen to me, you’re making a mistake. And the thing that pisses me off more’n anything is that you’re gonna take Sue Ellen down with you. You’re a user, Nic. I know. How many times have you had to borrow money from me since being here—a fucking lot, right?”
He pauses as though actually expecting an answer, so I sort of half whisper, “I don’t know. You always made it seem like you wanted to help. I don’t have any money, and that sucks. But I can pay you all back for everything. Once I finish the second half of my book, I’ll get more of my advance. That’s another reason why I wanna get out of here—to start working again and be able to finally support myself.”
He laughs, but not like he thinks it’s funny at all. “Your book, huh? Yeah, right. You might be able to fool little Sue Ellen with that shit, but not me. You’re a con man, Nic—a leech. Hell, I used to be the same way. That’s why I can see it in you. We’re the same, man. And what is it they say, ‘You can’t kid a kidder’? Well, that’s how it is. Now, look, my counselor specifically told me I was not to have any contact with you once you left the program, but I’m gonna give you this one night. She also told me that if, for some reason, I do have to talk to you, the only thing I’m supposed to say is that I want you to go to the program they suggested in New Mexico. So I’m saying that, Nic. Honestly, I think that’s the one chance you’ve got.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, or, well, yell real loud. “You know what Jimmy Cliff says, right? ‘I’d rather be a free man in my grave than living as a puppet or a slave.’ ”
Jason stares me down like he doesn’t even see me anymore.
“Man, your addict’s in full force. I don’t know what’s the point of even talking to you right now. You’re delusional. I mean, it’s sad to see.”
I turn toward the door, pulling on the big Army jacket my old roommate gave me.
“Whatever,” I tell him, kinda quietly. “I’m gonna smoke. Just remember that whole time you were so hung up on Jessie I never judged you—not once. I supported you. I supported you ’cause I used to fucking respect you.”
He doesn’t have time to respond before I get the door open and step out into the cold, cold night, slamming the fucking thing behind me.
Ch.13
The wind tears through the sterile, corporate-looking suites—everything radiating harsh yellow from the rows of staked lights in the sparse planter boxes surrounding the imitation cobblestone courtyard.
The wind stings my face as I walk down the short flight of stairs, fumbling to get a cigarette outta my pack.
There’re some plastic chairs set up in the courtyard, so I take a seat—turning my head, kinda startled, when I hear the door to the suite below Jason’s click open.
At first I just figure I’m gonna have to apologize for smoking in front of the person’s door, but then suddenly the face comes into focus and I actually jump.
“Oh, shit, Sue Ellen. Is that your room?”
She seems pretty startled, too.
She clenches her hands, and her eyes go wide, and she sort of takes a step back.
There’s something in her voice, like she’s trying to keep me at a safe distance—like she’s telling me not to come too close, without really telling me anything at all.
“Nic, oh, yeah. Uh, wow, I didn’t expect you to get here so fast.”
“Me neither. They, uh, they were able to get my meds from the doctor sooner than they thought. You want a cigarette?”
I hold out my pack to her.
Her small, pale hand reaches over to take one.
She sits down on one of the cheap lounge chairs, but
