CHAPTER 16 #2
Being a recovering addict makes you put up barriers and just say no to everything for so long that sometimes you don’t stop to question if saying no always makes sense.
I read a book about Johnny Cash once where he was quoted as saying, ‘One was too many, and a thousand was never enough.’ That mantra has kept me away from hard painkillers for over a decade, but if I could manage to control my liquid medicating for as long as I had, maybe a gummy bear won’t kick my ass.
They were doctor-approved by a physician who knows my history, so, worst-case scenario, I can tell him he was wrong.
Also, it would be nice not to grimace my way through the evening while Remy is here after his first day back from his trip.
Reaching out, I snatch the baggie from his fingers and open it up. The confusion on his face is laughable, as though he’s worried he just gave me a ticking bomb.
“How about half of one?” I suggest, starting toward my living room.
Not standing while possibly falling down a rabbit hole sounds like a wise plan, even though I don’t think these things are supposed to be like smoking marijuana.
“But only if you stay with me and take the other half,” I amend when I hear Remy following behind me.
“But…I don’t have any pain.”
Smirking, I’m glad he can’t see my face.
He’s not the first person to offer me gummies.
Alice and her husband told me about how they do them once a year when the boys go see his parents during the summer.
The stories they’ve told me had me cracking up.
I’m pretty sure I’m the enabler here, because I turn around and dig one of my knuckles in between two of Remy’s ribs at his side. He yelps, jumping back in surprise.
“Hm,” I hum. “That sounded like it hurt.”
◆◆◆
Two hours later
Moving my heating pad to the couch so I could be closer to Remy was a smart idea.
The addition of his body heat being so close by adds another level of serenity to the effects of the gummy bear.
Sagging, he ended up with his head on my shoulder at some point.
I can feel every vibration from him munching on his snack, connecting us at the moment as we stare mindlessly at my television.
“Would it be wrong if we DoorDash more Rice Krispies Treats?” he asks around a mouthful, still holding the box in his lap that we had delivered earlier.
There’s a pile of wrappers on the couch between our thighs like a giant heap of blue confetti.
My gaze flicks to his chipmunked cheeks as he chews, eyelids half-drooped. “Asking for Gale?” he adds lazily.
Gale is sound asleep on the other side of him with her head on his leg. Whatever he just said, I’m sure it made sense, so I grab my phone off the end table, but decide I’m too tired to deal with it.
“No, but you do it. I can’t type right now.” I hold my phone out to him, and he finally grabs it after missing my hand a few times. Reaching into the box, I find one remaining treat.
Damn. We ploughed through these things.
On my TV, I watch a man who’s been possessed by his psychotic abuelo’s dead spirit. I can’t tear my eyes away.
“How have I never watched this?”
“It’s fucking bananas,” Remy mumbles around a mouthful, pointing at the TV. “And then as soon as there are bananas, there are even more bananas.”
I really want to know what happens next, but while that little bear didn’t knock out all my pain, it sure as hell mellowed me out enough that it made it easier not to think about it. I let out a yawn and fight to keep my eyes open.
“You can fall asleep. It’s okay,” Remy assures me, like this isn’t my house. He’s really fucking cute when he’s stoned. “I have the box set, and I have it saved on my stream list.”
There is no way I want him to go home like this. Those things can take between three and five hours to wear off. Considering I’m almost twice his size in mass, I don’t see him coming back to the land of blushing when he says silly shit any time soon. Not that I mind.
“I have a TV in my room,” I suggest.
“I know. I love TV.”
I snort, watching his thousand-yard stare as he shoves another bite of marshmallow-y goodness into his mouth.
Yeah. Gummies were definitely a good idea.
For Remy, at least. I don’t know that they did much for me, but that’s probably a good thing.
They took the edge off a bit and certainly provided me with some interesting entertainment.
“You should come to my room,” I clarify, feeling the slow scrape of my eyelids over my eyes.
His jaw stops moving, and his hand freezes in mid-air. Funny how that registered quickly. He turns his head, and I swear he’s looking right at my mouth.
“Okay.”
With that, he hops up, wrappers toppling to the floor, and does a one-eighty. I gape, watching him round the couch and then tromp straight to my room. Well, not exactly straight—his movements are more animated than usual, taking him on a bit of a zigzag route.
Oh, my gosh. No more gummies for Remy, ever.
Chuckling, I peel myself off the couch and yawn again, suddenly aware of how exhausted each of my appendages feels. Holy shit. Maybe I was taken down by a tiny little gummy bear.
I turn off the living room TV and head to my room.
Remy drops his pants, kicks them off like an angry toddler, and then pulls back my comforter.
I’m not even sure if he knows I’m standing in the doorway trying not to laugh.
For all the times I thought about having sex with him, I can’t believe I’m thinking this right now—I hope to hell gummy bears don’t make people horny, because I’m way too damn tired.
Gale hops up on the bed and looks at him like she’s asking for approval. He pats the top of the comforter next to him. “Come here, girl.”
I watch in awe. She finds a spot, plopping down right next to him. What a traitor.
Flipping on my TV, I manage to bring up the Vampire Diaries where we left off and slide in under the covers next to him.
I situate one of my many pillows under my knees just the way I like it while Remy stares at the TV in a trance, idly petting Gale.
I can’t believe we’re in a bed, not having sex, and how natural that feels. I really like it.
Reaching over, I find his hand and rub my thumb over it, just wanting to be connected somehow. I want to thank him for being him and being here, doing nothing. Doing nothing with him turned out to not be boring at all.
His hand slips out from under mine, though. I wonder if I’ve made a misstep, but he rolls, and the next thing I know, he flings his arm across my chest. Nestled close to my side, he rests his head on my shoulder and makes a contented noise.
Some of his non-gummy-bear brain cells must catch up as I lie here stunned, because he asks, “This okay?”
It’s muffled, his mouth squished against the front of my shoulder.
The irony of how we’ve somehow gone from pawing at each other with very few words back in the day to asking permission for the slightest of touches is not lost on me.
I don’t know if it was the gummy, but despite the dull ache in my bones, I feel more at peace than I have been in a long time.
Maybe we both just needed to grow up a little.
Sliding my arm underneath him, I wrap it around the back of his shoulders and pull him closer. “Yeah. Very okay.”