Wednesday, June 29, 2011

The Aftermath (part 2)

It was late in the afternoon the next day when I felt clear enough in my head to function correctly in public.  The first thing I did was bum a ride out to Sarah's cabin.  I felt bad about the night before, I wanted to patch things up as soon as possible.  When I arrived, her car wasn't anywhere in sight.  When I knocked, though, she opened up the door.  I knew something was wrong with her, because her face just wasn't right.  There was an indifferent stare on her face.  Inside, I found the reason why.
While I had been tripping, Sarah had gone back to Muskogee because she was so upset.  She had bought some weed with the very last of the money we had from our trip.  Some of her friends had just returned from buying a bunch of Valiums from Mexico, and they had given her some of those as well.  While there, her car had broken down.  We had driven that car across the country, and it was luck it broken down only after we had gotten back.
I had gotten some weed from a friend too, and I had the muscle-relaxers for a neck problem.  So, for the rest of the next two days we stayed severely doped up.  We didn't talk much about the trip, the shootings, or the fighting even though it was on both of our minds.  I think that was why we had taken so many drugs.  We were trying to block all of the memories of what we had done.  Our relationship was in trouble.  The intimacy was gone.  Too much had happened, and we couldn't deal with it.  I just wanted to pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened and let everything go back to how it had been before we had left.  Sarah couldn't do that though.  She needed to talk about it and, at the time, I didn't want to listen.
During the second day, Patrick and Heather showed up.  Sarah had made plans before I had come to the cabin for them to come and take her back to Muskogee.  I didn't like it very much that she was relying on Patrick for help, but he was our only ride.  It seemed outlandish that the person she had once fled from was now the person she called to when in need.  They dropped me off at my house.  Sarah kissed me and we exchanged an “I love you,” then they were gone.
For the next three days I couldn't get in touch with Sarah.  I missed her a lot—too much.  I knew she was going through an emotional roller-coaster dealing with the murders and her family, and I was worried about her.  I was also struggling and wanted to be with her.  When I was with someone I could focus on the relationship and try to forget who I was and where I came from. I called her house all day Friday.  Her parents were at the cabin so I figured Sarah would be at her house since she would have it to herself.  After calling for hours on end, I took my mom's van and drove to Muskogee, but I still couldn't find her.  I drove out to her cabin where I found her mom.  She told me Sarah was “in big trouble.”  Her parents had learned Sarah, Patrick, Heather, and some other friends had been shooting up.  Sarah had come home one night and her parents had seen the needle marks up and down her arms.
Finally, the next day she called me.  She told me what was going on.  She had just gotten sucked into shooting up, not really realizing how it happened.  Heather and her other friends had all tried it for the first time recently and they thought it was the greatest thing in the world.  Patrick, the supplier, had used this as an opportunity to insert himself back into Sarah’s group of friends.  I just wanted to take her away from that whole mess.  I told her I was coming up there, but she said she didn't want me to see her the way she was.  I went anyway. It hurt that she had told me not to come.  I needed to be with her if only to pretend everything was the same as before we had left. I wanted to be with her so bad that I went to her even though she didn't want me there.
I got my mom to drop me off at Sarah's house where she and her friends were.  I heard voices inside before I knocked; but when I did, it got real quiet.  A head sneaked around a doorway trying to see who was at the door.  A few minutes passed and still nobody came to the door.  I probably should have taken a hint, but I wanted to see Sarah.  I wanted to get her away from Patrick.  Partly, I was a little jealous; but mostly I knew that he was not good for her, but then again neither had I.  All he had done in the past was hurt her and that's what he would probably do again.  Finally, Sarah came to the door, and I could tell she was really high.  She was unable to keep still and one leg constantly shook.  She had lost weight too.  Being slim to begin with made her bone thin.  She stepped out on the porch and shut the door behind her.  Clearly, she didn't want me around the others inside.
We went out to her car because it was chilly outside and a few drops of rain were falling.  Sarah pulled up her sleeve and showed me her bruised, skinny arm.  She was ashamed for me to see her and told me she was sorry.  I felt tears well up in my eyes, partly because I felt sad about how Sarah had let her self get hooked, but also because I knew it was partially my fault.  She told me how Patrick and her other friends had argued she couldn't tell them crystal-meth and crank were worse than weed because she had never tried it.  Eventually, the peer pressure, her own curiosity, and her desire to escape her pain got the better of her and she let someone shoot her up.  Sarah found it did offer a little escape from the memories and anguish for awhile.  After the first time, Patrick began offering it to her every chance he could, seeing he had ensnared her once again.
Heather came out to the car and the three of us sat out there and smoked some weed.  It was still clear to me Sarah didn't want me there, and eventually she got around to suggesting that Patrick could take me home.  Everybody wanted to cruise around anyway, so the three of us, plus Patrick and a guy named Gary, got in and left.
I was still not sure of where our relationship stood.  I knew she didn't want me at her house with her, but while we were in the back seat, she leaned over and started kissing and rubbing on me.  I was confused.

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