My hand scratches absently at her ear as she drifts off to sleep and is immediately snoring loudly.
“We can do this,” I tell her. “I know we can. I’m gonna get clean again and then we’ll get our own place and we’ll go to the beach all the time and go hiking and I’ll actually make some friends and it’ll be all right, you know? It’ll be all right.”
I close my eyes and hold them shut tight.
The pills are hitting me now.
They flood my brain with warmth and pleasure.
“Tallulah,” I say again, “don’t worry about a thing, girl, we’re gonna be just fine.”
I roll onto my side.
As the pills make it all better.
And for the first time I can remember, I actually believe everything I’m saying.
I believe I can do it on my own.
So long as I never have to come down.
Ch.34
The water is gray and still and clear—reflecting the sky and sun and fast-moving clouds in a perfect mirror image—like a parallel world—an upside-down reality. The approaching islands of dense evergreen forest existing both above and below. The ferryboat carrying us passengers in both this world and the other—each one of us replicated in the glassy water—as though we’re inhabiting two separate dimensions at the same time.
Of course, I am here.
My dad is with me and we’re standing on the deck.
While our reflected selves stand inverted in the water down below.
I wonder if maybe, living in that reality, somehow things are different. Maybe down in that world I haven’t been taking Klonopin for the last three days, almost completely depleting my mom’s supply. Maybe I haven’t been smoking weed this whole time. Maybe I never used Sue Ellen first as a way to distract myself from Zelda and then as a meal ticket, only to completely betray her now that I don’t need her anymore. Maybe I never tried to get back together with Zelda even though I know I need to finally move forward with my life. Maybe I never lied to everyone during the whole book tour thing, saying I was sober when I so was not. Hell, maybe in that world I don’t hate myself.
’Cause, I mean, isn’t that what this is really all about? I hate myself. I truly hate myself. But, in the end, you know, fuck, I always end up right where I am now—powerless, strung out, crushed beneath the fallen wreckage of the people I’ve hurt and the damage I’ve caused. It’s all so obvious, you know? But somehow when I’m in the middle of it, I can never see what the fuck I’m doing. I find myself like I am now, coming down off my last Klonopin, standing on the deck of a ferry with my dad on the way to go talk about sobriety to a bunch of kids at a rehab off the coast of British Columbia. It’s the center’s, like, twentieth anniversary or something. So besides all the kids in treatment there, we’re also going to be speaking to all the donors and staff and alumni and, you know, other people who are paying big money to attend the event. And here I am, their little poster boy for recovery, who had to hit the bowl a couple times this morning just to wake up.
I stare down at the water and wish so hard I could just trade places somehow with myself in the reflection.
“You okay?” I ask him, putting my hand on his shoulders.
He turns to face me directly. “Yeah, I am,” he says, looking at me sort of searchingly. “Are you?”
I tell him, “Yeah, I guess,” though I can’t quite look at him when I say it.
“You, uh, you know that if there’s anything you need to talk about, I mean, anything at all, I’m here for you, okay? You don’t have to worry about me judging you or getting mad at you or anything. I promise, you can tell me and I won’t freak out.”
I stare down at the sandpaper floor, smeared with dried salt and bird shit. “Did Sue Ellen call you?”
My dad puts his hands on my shoulders, holding tight. “I’m sorry, Nic, I didn’t know whether to say anything or not. But I just figured, well, if someone called and told me you were carrying around a loaded gun, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t try to do something. Of course, I wanted to hear your side of the story. I know Sue Ellen’s in a really bad place right now, so I could see her trying to attack you in any way she can. Still, I just, well, when she told me, it seemed like it fit is all. I mean, it is true, isn’t it? You have started smoking pot again?”
I still can’t look at him. Shame almost drops me to my knees. I try to keep breathing. “Dad, I… it’s not what you think. I… I’ve been smoking pot now and then for the last two years. But it doesn’t seem like a problem anymore. I swear. I just do it occasionally with my friends and stuff. It was scary at first, you know, ’cause I thought maybe it would lead to hard drugs again, but it hasn’t. I’ve been able to control it. That sounds like a cliché, maybe. I mean, I get that it’s hard to believe. But, the truth is, I don’t seem to have a problem with it anymore. The only reason Sue Ellen’s telling you now is ’cause she’s trying to force me to come back to her. Do you understand?”
My eyes dart up for a second and, yeah, I mean, I can see he’s crying now.
“I know that, Nic, I know that’s why she called. But, still, you have to understand how scary this is for
