Iturned at the sound of the familiar voice. Elle ran toward me in her scrubs andpink sneakers, blonde hair bopping wildly from side to side. My mouth drieddown to sandpaper at the thought of talking to her. I had tried to avoid this,even using the guest elevator and sneaking in between shifts. But I had spentso much time thinking of a sneaky plan, that I'd forgotten Elle liked to comein a few minutes early for breakfast.
Andnow, I had to face her.
Shestopped in front of me, cheeks red from the nipping wind. “Hey, did you nothear me calling you back there?”
Ihad.
“Oh,uh, no ... I don't think so. Sorry.”
“Wherethe hell have you been, girl? I feel like it's been forever.”
Ithadn't been forever.
“Yeah,I know. I've been, um ...”
Istopped myself from continuing, as I thought about what I was about to do. DidI really want to make something up, when I now knew that a lie will always beuncovered, no matter how deep it's been buried? Was I prepared to lose anotherfriend, another person who had always had my back? No. The answer was, no, Iwasn't. But what damage would my truth do to our friendship? Did it evenmatter? Was a friend who was unwilling to accept the ugly truth, really afriend at all?
Ellecocked her head. “Yeah?”
Ismiled and asked, “Do you have a few minutes?”
***
We satin the atrium, with paper cups of coffee in hand. Elle was stiff withtrepidation, as she sat at the edge of the stone bench. It was my fault formaking her so nervous, with the anxious chewing of my bottom lip and theincessant tapping against the sides of my coffee. But I couldn't help it, as Irecalled my sisters' initial reaction to Vinnie's past. They had written himoff before they'd even gotten to know him, and while Elle knew me, this side ofme had been kept a secret. What if she decided every part of me was better leftas someone she once knew?
“So...” She fidgeted with the plastic lid, flicking its thin edges with one, longnail.
Iwetted my lips and decided this was it. I had enough problems to deal with; heropinion of me didn't have to be one of them.
“Iturned in my badge today,” I admitted, keeping my eyes on the ground.
“Oh,my God, are you serious?”
Inodded. “Yeah ...”
“But,”she shook her head with confusion, “why? You love this job!”
Itook a deep breath and said, “No, I know. It's just ... I can't work hereanymore. I, um ...” I rapidly wondered why I had thought this was a good idea,just before I said, “I have a history of substance abuse and I ... I can'thandle the job anymore.”
Ellewas quiet, and when I finally looked at her, I found an expression ofinquisitive suspicion. “Substance abuse? Is that,” she gasped quietly, “is thatwhy you've been forgetting things lately?”
Mycheeks reddened, remembering the last few weeks I'd been at work. Themedication mishaps, the days I showed up late, and the days I forgot to show upat all.
“Yeah,um ... it got pretty bad at the end, and Vinnie and I—”
“Wait.Was he using, too?”
Ibit my lip before nodding. “He, um ... he was clean for years, but after hisfather died—”
“Iget it,” Elle interjected lightly, without the slightest hint of judgmenttainting her tone. I found it surprising, and I guess my expression said asmuch because then she added, “My brother, Rob, is a recovering drug addict.”
“Really?”
Shenodded. “Yeah. He was in a hiking accident years ago that destroyed his leg,and long story short, he really enjoyed the pain meds. He's relapsed a fewtimes over the years, but for now, he's doing okay.”
Mylips parted slightly, and I closed them immediately. I wasn't allowed to beshocked, not after what I'd just told her. But I couldn't help but think,I'vemet Rob. He’d never given me the impression of being troubled, or addictedto anything other than Diet Coke and Yankee games. But addiction doesn't haveone face, does it? Sometimes it hides behind the guy down on his luck, justlooking for an escape, and sometimes, it grabs ahold of a guy trying to recoverfrom a broken leg … or a nurse just desperate to escape the ghosts.
“I’msorry,” I felt the need to say.
