“Youwere high ... the other night,” I reiterated, trying to wrap my head around thesequence of events. As if it mattered or changed a thing. “When you called meand asked me to come back, you were fucking high.”
“Yes,”he said, then quickly shook his head and waved his hands with the motion.“Wait, wait. No, no, no. That's not what happened. I hadn't cut the line yet,Andy. I called you up to get you back so I wouldn't do it. I didn't want to behere by myself. I fuckin' hate this place. I hate how it feels like, like, likea freakin' morgue with all this dead guy's stuff around and all the quiet. AndI just needed you back, to make me feel alive again. 'Cause when it's just mehere, I feel dead, too.”
“So,you're blaming me,” I answered quietly, clutching my hands to my chest andslowly shaking my head. “I can't believe ... I can't believe you're blamingme.”
“No!”he shouted, startling me. “No. Sweetheart, no, I'm not blamin' you for nothin',okay? 'Cause all of this shit,” he moved his hand in a wide circle, “is all me,okay? But I was weak the other night and you make me strong, but since youweren't here, I ...” He nodded to himself. “I gave in. I tried not to, but Idid.”
Heclaimed he wasn't blaming me for his actions and I believe he thought he wasbeing sincere. But then, I felt weight of his addiction fall on my shoulders,breaking my back and snapping my bones. I sagged with a ragged sigh, droppinginto a chair at the kitchen table and covering my face with my hands. I didn'twant to look at him, still so sexy and attractive, despite the black holes thatwere once his eyes. And I didn't want to see his dead father, standing in theentrance of the hallway, mere feet from where Vinnie stood.
Itwas toxic. There was no doubting that now. This, my relationship with him andwhat he was doing to himself and me, it was dangerous and scary and so, sounhealthy in every sense of the word. An outsider might look at the situationand think me insane for still being inside that apartment, sitting at thattable. An onlooker might say they'd never put themselves in this situation tobegin with. But it was my reality now, and no, it wasn't good, but somehow, inthe moment, it didn't seem as bad as one might think it should.
Icleared my throat and scrubbed my hands over my face, not giving a single shitabout my makeup. “This isn't good,” I muttered behind my palms.
“Iknow,” he said.
“Ishouldn't be here, Vinnie. I shouldn’t …” I swallowed at the bitter taste ofthe words in my mouth, before saying, “I shouldn’t be with you.”
“No.Definitely not. I told you, I'm no fuckin' good. Your sisters are right. I'm—”
Droppingmy hands to the table, I asked, “Why do you do it?”
Hecocked his head curiously. “Why did I get high? I-I told you, I—”
“Butwhy? Why did you start in the first place? What is soamazingabout thisshit that you justhadto start doing it again? Why?”
Hisbreathing was so controlled for someone so high. He nodded slowly and cametoward me, and this time, I didn't retreat.
“Popsasked me that a while before he died,” he said.
“Whatdid you tell him?” I asked as he sat beside me.
“Nothin'.'Cause I couldn't just ... I dunno, tell him the reason was him.”
Inarrowed my eyes, trying to wrap my head around his answer. “But you were soclose with him. You loved him. Why ... why would he be your reason for usingdrugs?”
Vinnieshook his head. “It wasn't him but life with him. Growin' up in his house washard, with him workin' all the fuckin' time. He was hardly ever around and whenhe was, he was always stressed. And I always thought, if Ma hadn't run away,shit wouldn't have been like that, you know? But he drove her away, he didthat, and we suffered for it.”
Hisenergetic buzz faded away to reveal the thick blanket of sadness and years ofhurt beneath. “I guess I ... we, Zach and me, used to go somewhere else. Youknow? Somewhere not ... here.”
“Anescape from reality,” I whispered, understanding more than I would've liked.
“Yeah,exactly. An escape from reality.”
Drugsare bad, drugs are wrong, and I shouldn't have understood as much as I did. ButI couldn't help that I empathized with the need for an escape. I couldn't helpsympathizing with the young kid he once was, desperate to shut himself off fromhis own life, and how the hell do you do that when you're stuck?
Inthat moment, I thought about Tracey. About what she had said about the pillsand alcohol and how it kept the ghosts at bay—or Spirit, as she called it.Sure, she had nearly thrown her life away because of it, but maybe, just maybe,I could be different. Maybe I could find a balance, and maybe Vinnie could helpme.
“Showme how to do it,” I found myself saying, relenting way too easily as I liftedmy eyes to his.
“No,”he told me, point blank. “No fuckin' way.”
“Please,”I begged him, forcefully ignoring his lingering, unblinking father and theworry in his eyes. “I want you to show me. I want to escape, too. Let me gowith you.”
Hesurprised me by tearing up and clenching a fist, raising it to his forehead,and holding it there. “Fuck,” he muttered, teeth gritted and throat choked.“Fucking hell, Andy. Don't make me do it.”
“Fine.I'll figure it out myself.” I stood from the table and moved swiftly toward theliving room. “How hard can it be?”
Vinniepushed himself up from the table and shouted, “Dammit, Andy! Fine!”
