Click.Smile.
Click.Pose.
Click.Plastic.
The sweat pouring down her temple intrigues the hell out of me, and I can’t take my eyes off her. Here’s a nobody—a housewife in mom jeans and clearance rack clothing—about to do something I would never evenconsider.
Show her trueface.
She clears her throat. “Hi, I’mKelly.”
“Hi, Kelly.” Startled, by the booming response by everyone around me, I slump down into mychair.
“Wow,” she says, double tucking her hair. “This is even scarier than I thought it wouldbe.”
“You’re doing great, Kelly,” Gary encourages her from the corner of theroom.
Kelly tosses him a grateful grin and tucks her hair again. I wonder if she even knows that’s her thing. Probably not. No one ever does. Everyone else seems to, though, and as countless eyes fixate on her hands, I silently wish for a couple of bobby pins so I can run up there and pin it back forher.
“Right. Well, as you all can see, I’m no one special.” She tugs on the hem of her pink shirt and gives a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t fit the mold of anyone’s typical addict. No bells or whistles went off on anyone’s radar for me. Even my husband’s,” she adds in a hushedvoice.
Like a spectator at a blood bath, I find myself inching toward the edge of my seat. Part of me feels ashamed, while the rest relishes in hearing a story more fucked up thanmine.
Kelly blows out a long breath. “It started out as a way for me to get everything done around the house. I mean, the energy from coke is like nothing else, right?” She glances up, searching for solidarity. When a couple of heads nod in agreement, she hugs her arms around herself. “I was on top of theworld.”
“But the high didn’t last, did it, Kelly?” Gary broke in, guiding her confession back ontrack.
“No. When you’re on top, eventually, you just keep moving closer to the edge. Getting more and more reckless until eventually you fall.” As the memory unfolds, her face tightens in rawpain.
You have no idea, Kelly. The higher the star, the harder thefall.
My pulse races as tears spill down her cheek. I can feel Frankie’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare turn to face him. I can’t face anyone butKelly.
“I met my dealer in a gas station parking lot,” she recalls, brushing the back of her hand over her wet cheeks. “I didn’t know I’d been followed, and the cops busted us both. My husband left me after my arrest and took my kids.” The composure she’d held on to throughout her speechbreaks.
Kelly’s knees buckle and she collapses into Gary’s waiting arms. I’m frozen. I can’t speak or even breathe. At first, I don’t recognize the blurriness. The stinging. The strange dampness. I blink repeatedly and that’s when I tasteit.
Salt.
I lick my lips again. More salt. I lick a third time and in disbelief run the tips of my fingers down mycheek.
Tears.
I haven’t cried since Kirkland’s funeral. Even then, I fought them, determined for my pain not to be tomorrow’s headlines. My tears were only for her. I shed them when I kissed her coffin, letting them dry on the polished marble so a part of me would always be withher.
I never allowed another one to fall afterthat.
I have no idea how much time has passed when Frankie gives my arm a squeeze. “There’s still time to share, ya know.” He nods toward the front of the room, and I notice all the intricate tattoos on his arm. Why did he get them? What do they mean? I’ve never asked anything about him, yet I cling to him as if he’s the only piece of stability in my fucked-upstorm.
Expect everything and give nothing. Just likealways.
“No,” I manage to say in a raspy voice. “I never learned toshare.”
Too late, I’m realizing that one of the things I never had to share is the one I should’ve treasured the most. And now, I’m now sharing him with the woman who loathes me almost as much as hedoes.
Breaking the silence, Gary claps his hands together. “Okay, so how about we hear from our regular members now? Anyone want to share any updates?Frankie?”
I’m already headed toward the door before Frankiespeaks.
