Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ALLEY
THEN—ELEVEN MONTHS AGO
SEPTEMBER
I step out of the shower, wrap my hair in a turban, and slide my arms into my robe.
After going through my skincare routine, I brush out my hair and tip my head forward, starting the blow dryer.
It’s almost ten a.m., and Jensen should be home by one. He had to fly to Boston yesterday to meet with a potential client. He only travels for work a handful of times a year, but of course, this trip had to fall on Zach and Joey’s wedding weekend.
He lands at noon. It’s cutting it close, but we should still be fine. As long as there are no delays.
I flip my head upright, using the dryer and my brush, smoothing and adding volume.
He’s clean. It’s been six weeks. I was nervous about the trip, but I guess it’s no different than him being at work here. He kicked it. It was brutal and ugly, but he did it.
After that first AA meeting, he went from four pills a day to three the following week. I helped him when he got home. He was grouchy, short-tempered, and didn’t feel well. That Friday, he worked from home, and cut them cold turkey. I took the day off to be with him. To babysit him, basically.
By Monday, he was in the thick of it. Wednesday night, he finally started turning a corner. He worked from home the rest of the week. Matt stayed with him while I was at work. It was a nightmare. But we got through it.
Since then, things have been good. Not great, but good.
Better than they were. We’re still dancing around the hurt, and the broken trust. He’s struggled with some depression since getting clean.
Some days are harder than others. But more and more, he’s becoming himself again, and I’m starting to lean back in.
We celebrated our one-year anniversary and him being one week clean on the same night. We stayed home, and ordered in. Jensen still wasn’t one hundred percent, but we ate, watched a movie, laughed, cuddled. We even had sex. Nothing wild. We used toys to make up for the energy he didn’t have.
He lost a lot of weight during those first two weeks. It’s starting to come back now. Slowly but surely, Jensen’s starting to look like Jensen again.
I smile at the thought. He really is so good-looking, and I can’t wait to see him dressed up tonight. Jensen in a suit? That always does something to me. It reminds me of the first time we had sex after Matt’s birthday party.
I turn the blowdryer off and reach for my makeup bag just as my phone lights up with a text.
Jensen
Hey babe, they overbooked my flight and bumped me to the next one. Fucking bullshit. I’m trying to talk to the gate agent now.
Oh my God. No.
I snatch up my phone and call him. It rings, then goes to voicemail.
He texts me immediately.
Jensen
I’ll call you in a bit. Talking to the agent now.
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath. This night means so much to me.
Oh my God. When’s the next flight?
I set the phone down, curl my lashes, and apply a coat of mascara with an unsteady hand.
Fifteen minutes later I still haven’t heard from him.
Babe. Did you get it figured out? If you don’t get on a flight in the next hour, we won’t make it in time for the ceremony.
The ceremony doesn’t start until four-thirty, but cocktail hour starts at three-thirty, and the wedding’s in Long Island. With traffic and everything that could go wrong, it’s not looking good.
I’m almost done with my makeup when he finally texts back.
Jensen
It’s not looking good, babe. I’m so pissed. They’ve oversold everything. Greedy fuckers. They can’t get me on a flight until one. I’ll be late. But then I just have to fly back tomorrow for a meeting Monday morning…
I try calling him again, but he doesn’t answer.
Jensen
Sorry, babe. It’s chaos here.
“Ugh!” I grit my teeth, frustration building.
What are you saying? You don’t want to come?
Jensen
You know that’s not it, babe. I want to be there. It just doesn’t make sense. By the time I get there, it’ll be half over and then I just have to turn around and come back.
Is he serious? He’s just… not coming? I’ve been looking forward to this wedding for a year. Zach’s one of my best friends. This is so important to me. And God—a big, fat gay wedding? There’s literally nothing better.
It’s a small wedding too. They splurged on all the things. I’m honored to be invited. Joey’s wearing a velvet suit, and Zach wrote a song for him. He’s singing it during the ceremony. His voice is phenomenal. It’s going to be epic.
So you’re not coming?
I drop my phone on the counter and take a second to steady myself.
Is he even telling the truth?
Goddammit. I hate that my brain just went there. Of course he’s telling the truth. I saw him leave yesterday. His bag was packed, and he was wearing work clothes. I watched him walk out the door. He loves Zach and Joey just as much as I do.
But what if he took something while he was there? What if he’s spiraling? What if he was in pain and couldn’t handle the pressure?
Fear plants itself deep in my chest, and suddenly I’m a mess of nerves. My breathing turns shallow, my hands start to shake, and an overwhelming urge to play detective crashes through me.
My phone lights up again.
Jensen
I know this sucks, Al. I was really looking forward to it. I’ll let you know if something changes. Call you later.
Doom and gloom settles over me. Why won’t he answer his phone? Why won’t he call me now?
This isn’t some child’s birthday party he’s missing. It’s a big deal.
I turn on my heel and storm into our closet, yanking open drawers, shuffling through shelves. Don’t ask what I’m looking for. I don’t even know. Pills, bags, a receipt, a clue. Anything to tell me he’s full of shit.
I dig through pants pockets, shoes, boxes, the safe. I’m praying—begging that I don’t find anything.
He’s clean. He has to be. I know he is.
Next I’m in the office, tearing through drawers like I’m insane. I feel completely unhinged. The irony is almost laughable. I look like the addict right now—strung out, searching for a fix. The desperation is radiating off me in waves.
I’m crouched in front of the bottom drawer, everything pulled out and scattered on the floor.
Nothing.
I start pulling the drawers out again, one at a time, running my hands along the undersides.
Nothing’s off-limits. I know how this works—what lengths an addict will go to.
I grew up with it. I’ve seen what my dad was capable of.
I’ve read enough blogs and forums. I’ve heard the horror stories. You never underestimate an addict.
They are masters of deception.
I get to the top left drawer. I pull it out and run my fingers underneath.
My fingers bump into something hard. What the hell?
There’s a container of some sort Velcroed to the bottom of the drawer.
I rip it off and stare at it. It’s black, small, and looks like a tackle box.
I freeze, staring at it for a full ten seconds before I move.
Like if I don’t touch it, it’s not real.
Popping the lid open, I almost laugh out loud when I see what’s inside. Even though it’s not funny.
Not even a little.
It’s organized. I’ll give him that: Q-tips, Neosporin, an old hotel key card, a razor blade, a metal tray with white residue, cut straws. All the paraphernalia you’d need to snort something up your nose.
And the worst part? The part that screams guilty? The pills. And the little baggie of white powder.
If those weren’t here, maybe I could gaslight myself into believing this was old. Something he forgot to throw out.
But it’s not.
He has drugs.
In the house.
Right now.
I grab the whole kit because fuck him. How dare he?
My entire body goes into some kind of shock. My hands shake so hard I nearly drop the box as I carry it to the kitchen. I toss it onto the counter, letting my head fall into my hands as I lean on my elbows, trying to breathe. Trying to stabilize.
The room spins, and I feel like I might pass out or throw up. Tears sting, threatening to fall.
Shit. No. I refuse to cry today.
I just did my makeup. I can’t do this today. I won’t let anything ruin this day for me.
I drift down the hallway, running trembling fingers through my hair. Back in the bathroom, I pick up my phone and text Jensen, already knowing I won’t hear from him the rest of the day.
I know.
I found your stash.
God. I’m so mad I could take a sledgehammer to everything that matters to him.
My heart hammers between my ears, and I remind myself to take a deep breath so I don’t have a panic attack or a nervous breakdown.
I text Matt.
What are you doing the rest of the day. You busy?
Matt responds almost immediately. You know, because he’s not on drugs.
Matt
Just meeting a buddy for drinks later. What’s up?
I hate to ask this, but… can you cancel? Will you go with me to Zach and Joey’s wedding?
Matt
Where’s Jensen?
Don’t ask.
My phone vibrates. Matt’s calling, and I swipe to answer.
“Hey,” I say, my tone flat.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Jensen was supposed to be home today, but then he texted me some bullshit excuse about flights being delayed and overbooked.”
“He’s in Boston, right? Work trip?”
“That’s what he says, but…” My voice cracks. “I found drugs, Matt. Hidden in his office. There’s a whole kit with Oxy and cocaine.”
“Shit. What time do you want to leave for the wedding? I’ll pick you up. No problem.”
“Um…” My lips quiver, and my shaking hand knocks the phone against my ear. “Two o’clock, if that’s okay? It’s in Long Island.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be ready. I’ll drive.”
“Thanks, Matt.” I tilt my head back, eyes squeezing shut.
“No problem. It’s gonna be okay, Al. We’ll have fun, alright?”
I nod, like he can see me. My silence says it all.
“What can I do?” he asks gently.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Find him?”
“I will. You need anything?”
“No.”
“Try to relax, okay? I know you don’t wanna mess up your makeup.”
I laugh-cry into the phone.
“Take some deep breaths, alright? I’ll see you at two.”