Chapter 3 Of Nights and Bars #3
I don’t know what I felt then. I knew Jack had taken drugs before we met.
I knew he’d done all kinds of questionable things in his past. But seeing it…
seeing it happen again…made my whole world stop.
He looked up and his eyes crossed mine. He stopped laughing and went pale. I guess I had done the same.
Jack was drinking. Jack was doing drugs.
That’s why he had those bags under his eyes.
That’s why he was acting so weird. Now I understood.
He was the same ill-tempered Jack from before, the one they had told me about.
Did his roommates know all this? Did they know that he’d relapsed?
Did they know how long it had been? When had it started? If so, then why hadn’t anyone told me?
I needed to go, and I needed to get Jack out of there.
He got up, people told him to stick around, they complained, but he wanted to follow me.
When he reached me, he didn’t dare to touch me.
His eyes were dilated, his breathing was labored, and I could tell he was afraid I’d turn and run off.
When I didn’t, he tried to hold me, but then he thought better of it and let his arms drop to his sides.
He was sniffling, anxious, frantic, desperate.
“Jen, it’s not…”
That was the moment when I dared to believe I still mattered to him. Maybe not as much as the year before, but still. And I used myself as an excuse.
“I don’t feel good,” I said. “I think I need some fresh air.”
I was relieved when his expression changed, and he hugged me to him and pushed through the crowd to the exit.
I kept looking over and noticing how strange he was acting, and it made me want to cry, but I knew that wasn’t the moment.
When we got outside, I turned my back. Maybe I did need that breath of fresh air.
I was dizzy, even though I hadn’t drunk a drop.
Reality was weighing down on me like a ton of bricks.
“Jen?”
I didn’t turn, but I could feel him coming closer. If he didn’t touch me, it was because he didn’t know how I’d react, not because he didn’t want to.
In my head, I saw him taking coke again, and I closed my eyes as I heard him say, “Please, say something to me. Anything.”
He touched my arm timidly, as if hoping to hold me back, and continued, “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
He was still pale, and he looked upset, and I snapped: “How the hell did you want me to find out? Drugs, Ross? Really?”
“It’s not such a big deal!”
I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or both. I tried to step away, but he grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. He looked desperate as he told me, “I can quit whenever I want. It’s just something I do when I party, when other people bring it. It’s not a habit, Jen, you’ve got to trust me!”
“If it’s not such a big deal,” I challenged him, “then how about you swear to me here and now that you’ll never do it again?”
As he stalled, a gray car screeched to a stop beside us. Will jumped out and hurried over, and Jack asked, looking betrayed, “Did you call him?”
“Of course I did, I was worried,” I said. “And something’s wrong with you. You need help!”
Wil tried to grab him, and Jack pushed him away. I was surprised by how strong he seemed, even when he could barely stand. “Fuck you both!” he shouted, “I don’t need a damn babysitter, OK? I can take care of myself.”
“Dude, just get in the car and stop being an asshole,” Will said wearily.
I guessed this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
They argued, then Will convinced him to get in the back seat and motioned for me to do the same.
I didn’t love the idea, but I also didn’t want to fight about it.
As I sat down, I noticed Jack barely moved.
When the car took off, Will asked me to buckle Jack’s seatbelt, and Jack snapped, “I can do it myself!”
I ignored him, leaning across the seat as he let his head fall backward. He was white as a sheet, and I worried he was about to puke. After buckling him up, I scooted in close in case he might need me and asked if he was all right. When he didn’t answer, I continued, “Can you hear me?”
He grunted and turned toward the window.
“Just leave him,” Will said.
Jack’s chest rose and fell, and he shifted like a person having a nightmare.
I was terrified. I had no idea what he was going through.
When we parked, Will lifted him out of the car and helped him walk to the elevator.
Jack looked up a few times, but his head kept sinking, and as soon as we were in the apartment, he collapsed in a heap on the couch and started snoring.
Will turned him on his side, put a pillow under his head, threw a blanket over him, and took off his shoes.
I just stood there like an idiot the whole time.
When I asked if I could help, Will said, “Trust me, it’s best to just leave him. As long as he’s on his side, we don’t have to worry about him aspirating. Will you stay with him a minute? I need to let Naya know we’re OK.”
I nodded, but stopped him. “Did you know he’s been doing drugs?”
With a somber expression, Will replied, “Yes, and I know what you’re thinking.
And yes, we’ve tried to help him, Jenna.
More times than you can imagine. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.
All you can do is try to make sure he’s all right and be there for him when he comes around. Now hold on, I’ll be right back.”
Wondering what it meant to make sure someone was all right, I turned back to Jack and saw him rubbing his eyes with his hands. He was awake, if barely.
“Feeling better?” I asked for some reason.
“It sucks that Will’s such a party pooper. We were having fun.”
“You were having too much fun,” I told him.
He grinned. I didn’t. Before I could add anything, Will came back in and recommended I sleep in Jack’s bedroom that night.
I lay there a long time awake, feeling turmoil at the memories I’d spent a year trying to forget.
The dresser, the closet, the posters, the trophies, the balcony…
I’d never have guessed how much I’d missed all that.
Nothing had changed in there but the scent, musty, dull.
I could tell Jack didn’t go there much, that it had mostly sat empty, and that saddened me.
I didn’t get much sleep. I tossed and turned, and when the sun rose, I gave it up.
I didn’t get out of bed, though. I didn’t have the courage to face what was awaiting me in the living room.
Not, at least, until I heard someone come in and start moving things around, opening doors.
It reminded me of that night Mike had come in, and Jack had thought he was a burglar.
Could it be him again? I stood and looked at myself in the mirror in my baggy shorts, my T-shirt, and my red socks.
It wasn’t the most flattering outfit, but what the hell.
When I walked into the living room, I saw Jack opening and closing drawers in the kitchen, looking behind furniture, digging through the books on the shelves.
He was frantic, and, unsure what to say, I just stood there watching him, feeling like an idiot.
When he realized I was there, he turned and stared, acting startled, before finally asking with a furrowed brow, “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you moving all this stuff around…”
“No, I mean what are you doing in my apartment?”
Had he really forgotten everything from the day before?
I reminded him that I’d asked Chris about getting a room in the dorms, that there was nothing available, that I’d found him drunk at the bar last night, that I’d seen him doing drugs.
I tried not to sound judgmental, but I could tell he was ashamed.
And he covered up for it by being rude, telling me, “Whatever, I’m busy and I need some time to myself. ”
“What you need, Ross, is to stop whatever it is you’re doing. Do you not find it the least bit disturbing that you can’t even remember what happened yesterday? That you completely forgot that I was here?”
“Leave me alone! Who do you think you are, my mom? Go deal with your own problems. From what I remember, you had more than a few.”
“I don’t think I’m your mom, but you’re hurting yourself,” I said. “You need help.”
“And you need to learn when you’re not wanted.”
“You’re not going to provoke me, Ross. I’ve got three brothers.
I’ve spent my whole life learning to deal with that.
And I’m not going to change the subject either.
You’re trying to make me a villain so you don’t have to face your issues.
I’ve been in therapy, I know about these strategies. Maybe you should give it a try…”
I was careful not to raise my voice, and I tried to pat his shoulder to reassure him. Bad decision. He jerked away, almost frightened, and said, “Don’t touch me!”
Then he told me to get out, asked me why I was bothering him, asked if there wasn’t somebody else whose life I could ruin. That hurt, but I tried not to let it get to me. “I want to help you,” I said. “But you have to accept me for me to do that.”
“I don’t want your help! I don’t want anybody’s help! I’m tired of being treated like a baby who can’t take care of himself! I know what I’m doing and I’m perfectly in control. Now where the hell is my damn jacket?”
He stopped. His chest was rising and falling dramatically. He collapsed in the middle of the room, pulled his knees to his chest, and started tugging at his hair so hard his knuckles turned white. “Shit, shit, shit!” he said.
I was taken off guard and needed a few moments before I had the courage to approach him.
Of course he couldn’t find his jacket. It was in the bedroom, because I’d worn it home from the bar.
I wanted to tell him, but then I stopped, thinking maybe the jacket didn’t matter as much as a little bag of white powder that might be in one of the pockets.
I crouched next to him, rubbed his hands to keep him from tearing out his own hair, and said, “Jack, what’s going on? ”
“Shut up,” he grunted. “Leave me alone. Just go.”
“I’m not going to leave you on your own like this. I’m trying to help you. But I need you to tell me how. And I need you to be honest with me about what’s in the jacket.”
I was surprised that his anger subsided for a moment. His body slackened, and he shook his head as he stared at the floor. “I fucked it all up, Jen,” he murmured.
I hugged him and tried to reassure him. “It’s probably not as bad as it seems.”
“It is, though. You don’t understand.”
“Then tell me. Help me. Please.”
For nearly a minute, he didn’t speak. Then, finally, he admitted, “I owe someone money.”
I hadn’t expected that. And from his tone, I had to assume he wasn’t talking about a little loose change. Hoping to encourage him, I reminded him, “Yeah, but I heard you have a movie coming out, right? Once that happens, you’ll have more money than you’ll know what to do with…”
“I wish,” he responded. “I spent everything. And the premiere isn’t happening yet, and I won’t make another cent until then. Plus, what if it bombs? What if no one wants to see it?”
“Didn’t you have a streaming deal or something?”
“My YouTube stuff. That’s over. I haven’t made any real money off that in forever.”
“Is it urgent?” I asked, and when he nodded, I went on: “What will happen if you don’t pay?”
He didn’t tell me, but from the look on his face, I could tell it wouldn’t be good.
“I’ve got two hundred on me. Would that work for now? I owe you way more than that for all you’ve done for me. I never paid you rent or anything,” I told him.
He was hesitant, and for a moment he argued with me, but I didn’t give ground, instead running back to his room and grabbing the cash out of my pants.
I brought his jacket back with it. When he asked if I was sure it was OK, I responded, “Look, I’ve had two jobs for the past year.
I’m not rich, but this won’t bankrupt me, I promise you. ”
He thought it over, then accepted. As he counted the bills, he said, “I’ll pay you back.”
I agreed, but it didn’t matter to me. Even if it was just this once, I was glad I could be the one helping him out of a jam.
Now neither of us seemed sure what to say.
He was calm again, and I was nervous. I decided it was better to leave him on his own.
I tossed his jacket on the couch and told him, “Get some rest, Jack, you look like hell.”
I think he might have mumbled sure in response.