Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
ALLEY
PRESENT DAY—TWO MONTHS LATER
My phone dings, and a message from Megan syncs to my computer screen.
Megan
Hey—just checking in. Jensen home yet? How are you?
I don’t have it in me to respond. Mostly because I don’t know what to say. I’m not good. Jensen’s not home. He’s been more MIA these past three weeks than he’s ever been. Nothing makes sense. And this time… it’s worse. I’ve never been more scared for his health than I am right now.
I remember what it was like when my dad would relapse. He’d spiral fast, drinking himself into blackouts. And when he came out of them, he was grumpy and mean. He’d deflect all the shame onto us just so he didn’t have to sit with it himself.
Opioid relapse is even more dangerous. Most addicts go straight back to their old dose. That’s how so many overdoses happen. The craving hits just as hard, but their bodies can’t handle it anymore. There’s no longer a tolerance. No build-up. Just… overdose.
It’s just one more emotion I have to sit with. Fear. Real, paralyzing fear.
Is my husband lying dead on a street somewhere? Am I one phone call away from being a widow?
My thoughts race, dragging me into the darkness of the past year.
It’s been a constant struggle—a brutal push and pull of get clean and relapse.
Jensen would stay clean for two, maybe three days.
A week if we were lucky. Then he’d relapse.
But most of the time, he never even made it to clean.
He’d try to detox, only to give up three days later.
Every weekend became a cycle of misery. Another failed attempt to get better.
Most of the time, I didn’t even know if he was clean or not. He’d go through detox, disappear, then show up just enough to convince me he was okay. Just enough to make me question my instincts.
Our lives had gotten so chaotic, and my expectations for him had gotten so low; I honestly couldn’t even remember what normal looked like anymore. In the middle of all that madness was the real destruction. The lying. The stealing. The sneaking.
I had to take Jensen off every financial account I could. Some were originally his, and I didn’t have the authority to remove him, so I did the only thing I could. I transferred the money out—into my own account. It had to be where it was safe.
It was never about punishment. I had to protect what was mine—what was ours. We’d both worked so hard. I wasn’t about to watch everything we built get lost to drugs.
He always found a way, though. He’d steal my credit card or debit card when I wasn’t looking, or when I was sleeping. He found an old checkbook and drained it in a matter of days, writing out checks to cash.
Then it was the little things that started to go missing—the GoPro, the expensive art piece from the guest bedroom. Things I wouldn’t notice right away. Things he could pawn, like he was some desperate stranger on the street. It was heartbreaking—and pathetic. Still, I stayed. Through all of it.
I decide to message Megan back, just to let her know, though I’m sure she’s already talked to Matt by now.
He’s not home yet. I’m worried about him.
She calls immediately.
I don’t want to answer, but I feel like I should, so I swipe to pick up.
“Hey,” I say, my voice flat.
“Hey. What’s going on? Do I need to come over there? Do you want me to kick his ass?”
I force a laugh, but it’s dry and humorless. “He’d have to be here to kick his ass.”
“God, Al. I’m so sorry. What can I do?” Her voice is warm and loving, full of concern.
“Nothing…” I pause, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.
“There’s this part of me that doesn’t even want him to come home.
Because when he’s here, I don’t think rationally.
I turn into this codependent version of myself.
He manipulates, gives me some sob story that smells like bullshit a mile away, and for some reason, I eat it up.
” I scoff, bitter. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. ”
“Why? Because he’s my brother? That doesn’t make him any less of an asshole.”
The tears come again—and I’m so—God. Damn. Tired. Of crying.
“But he’s not an asshole,” I whisper. “He’s Jensen.”
Megan doesn’t say anything. She’s good at that, just sitting in the discomfort with me.
“Do you think your mom knows where he is?”
“She doesn’t. I talked to her about an hour ago.”
I scoff.
“She really doesn’t. I know you don’t trust her anymore, but… I don’t know, I feel like I’d know if she was lying to me. I know she babies him. Trust me, I know. I grew up in that bullshit. But she sounded worried.”
“I’m sure she did,” I say sarcastically.
She also sounded real curious last year when she asked what time Jensen was getting home from Boston. Turns out, Christy’s quite the actress. “You know she picked him up from the detox center last month?”
Megan goes quiet.
“Are you serious?” she finally says. “When did Jensen relapse? I thought this was all new.”
“Yeah. Me too,” I say. “I started suspecting about three weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure. Then Jensen told me he couldn’t go back to detox—that they wouldn’t take him. I didn’t understand why… until he finally admitted he checked himself out a month ago, and your mom picked him up.”
I exhale, biting down a wave of bitterness. “She brought him home. Tried to detox him herself. He disappeared, of course.”
I glance toward the window, shaking my head.
“I sent her a nasty text. She replied and said I could never understand because I don’t have kids.
And you wanna know the ironic thing about that?
” I add, my voice sharper now. “I’d love to have kids.
But I’m married to her son, who can’t keep his shit together. ”
“Seriously?” Megan groans. “That’s so my mom. That makes me so angry for you.” She pauses, then continues. “Why didn’t you tell me? I told you, you don’t have to do this alone.”
“I know. But it’s not your problem. You’ve got your own life, a family to worry about. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
“Stop. My life is so fucking easy. I’m here for you. Always.”
She goes quiet, and I can hear it in her breath.
She’s choking up. It takes a lot for Megan to cry, so when she does, it means something.
“God, I’m so fucking mad at him,” she says finally.
“I want to tell you to walk away. To stop putting up with his shit. But goddammit, Alley… I don’t want to lose you as my sister. ”
It goes silent, both of us too overwhelmed to speak. The tears spill again, soaking the neckline of my shirt.
“I don’t… want to… lose you either,” I manage to choke out.
“Listen,” Megan says gently. “I’m gonna do what I can to find him, okay? I’ll call around. I know people who know Seth. Maybe that dickwad has a clue where he is.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll call you if I find anything.”
“Thanks, Meg.”
“Don’t thank me. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Bye.”
I end the call, and press play on my show. Maybe it will help me fall asleep. It won’t—but it’s something.