Unforgiven(42)

“So if you know I’m using, why did you fuck me while I was high?” In a flash of anger, he moves around the kitchen island and pulls me from the chair I’m sitting on. It’s sudden and quick and it scares me. My heart beats wildly as he grips my arms—hard.
“What the hell did you just say? Are you accusing me of something?”
“No, no accusations. I’m just curious; if you’re so concerned about me, why did you fuck me while I was high?” I raise my chin in a show of defiance.
He just stares at me and shakes his head in disgust. Good. Hate me. Everyone else does. He lets go of me and grabs his wallet off the kitchen counter and stuffs it into his back pocket. He pulls his shirt off the floor and puts it on.
“Get this through your head, Lindsay. I never fucked you. Never. It was more than just a fuck to me. Second, I didn’t know you were high until you started crying, slurring your words, and called me ‘Matt.’” In four brisk steps, he walks out my door and slams it behind him, startling me. I bury my head in my hands and wonder what else I can fuck up.




 
 
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, pulling me out of a hazy slumber. The sun is shining brightly through the sheer curtains and my head swirls in dizziness. “Shit,” I mumble as I roll onto my stomach and reach for the buzzing phone. With one eye open, I see Jess’ name flashing on the home screen and I swipe the answer icon.
“Hello,” I say, my voice hoarse.
“Linds, we’re almost there!” Jess squeals into the phone. “You’re probably still at work, so I’ll just have Gabe drop me off tonight.” Glancing at the alarm clock, I see that it’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon. I exhale loudly and roll onto my back.#p#分页标题#e#
“No, change of plans. I’m home this weekend. I’m not working. You can have Gabe drop you off as soon as you get into town.”
“Even better. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”
“Sounds good.” I tell her before I drop my cell phone onto the floor and stare at the ceiling above me, watching it spin in slow circles. I close my eyes and breathe deeply as I run through the mini-checklist of things I need to do in the next thirty minutes before Jess arrives. Forcing myself out of bed, I stumble into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I twist my hair into a messy bun and brush last night’s two bottles of wine from my teeth and tongue, gagging as I do it.
I stick my head under the water faucet and lap at some of the cool water, swishing it around my mouth before swallowing. I still feel parched as I step into the warm shower and quickly wash my body and face. Drying myself quickly, I pull on a short silk robe and strip the sheets from my bed, stuffing them into the washing machine and turning it on.
My room is a complete disaster with piles of clothes, accessories, and shoes strewn everywhere. I haven’t cleaned this place since I moved in. While a mess like this would have sent the old Lindsay into a fit of OCD-induced rage, I just step over the piles of clothes and look forward to losing myself in the numbness that only the Oxy can provide. I sit on the edge of the bed and bury my head in my hands, rubbing my temples gently, urging the pounding headache to go away. My stomach turns and nausea overcomes me again. I’ve come to realize how much I appreciate the comfort of the OxyContin pills. They kill the nausea, the shakes, the trembling, and the headaches—I’ve become dependent on these stupid pills simply to function.
I punch the mattress and flex my shaking hand at the thought of needing the pills, no longer just wanting them to keep my emotions at bay. Yanking open the nightstand, I pull out the bottle of pills and take two. I’m down to my last four. Shit. On wobbly legs, I walk back to the bathroom and turn on the water. Popping the pills into my mouth, I fill my hands with water and drink from them.
Standing up, I use a hand towel to wipe the newly formed sheen of sweat from my forehead and cheeks. I close my eyes and will the pills to start working before Jess arrives. Just then, the doorbell rings and I whisper a silent prayer to whoever it is that’s answering them today, take a deep breath, and push myself away from the bathroom vanity and toward the front door.
I take note of the condition of my living room and kitchen as I dodge throw pillows and empty wine bottles. “Coming,” I holler as the doorbell rings again. I pull the door open and Jess launches herself into my arms. I can’t help but laugh at her. She’s taller than me, so my chin rests on her shoulder and I get a mouthful of her long, wavy hair.
“Linds,” she whispers and squeezes me tighter. My throat tightens and tears sting the back of my eyes. “I missed you so much.”