Rik was Bridget’s sponsor and also her bodyguard when they were on tour. He was big, muscular, and bald and had the greatest amount of patience of anyone Zach had ever met. When Zach explained the situation, Rik told him to stay put and make sure Bridget didn’t leave the house. Block her car in if he had to, but don’t let her leave.
Now Zach was even more frightened, but he did as he was told. Quietly, he slipped out of the house and blocked her car in with his, under the pretense that he was going to wash it. He doubted that she’d be ready to go soon, but just in case, he didn’t want Rik to come all that way only to miss her. And if Rik was coming all the way over, Zach knew he wasn’t over reacting to what he found.
She had her back to him, lying in the dimly lit room, covered with a pile of blue blankets. Her wrist was taped up thickly, and she was paler than he’d ever seen her before. They’d managed to wipe her hair free of her blood, but it was flat now, sticking to her forehead. She didn’t even open her eyes when he came in and sat down.
“You’re going to be okay,” he said just above a whisper, trying to find his voice. He tried to take her hand, but she pulled away and formed a fist wordlessly. “I guess you’re pretty mad at me.” His voice broke and he stopped, clearing his throat. “I just can’t lose you, too, B. I can’t. I’m sorry.” He was certain she could hear his heart pounding. The sound seemed to fill the room to him, like the ominous drumbeat they used to open the shows. Even through all the screaming, the single, thundering drumbeat could be heard in the darkness. It seemed all the louder when he realized how close she came to actually succeeding. “I’m sorry I’m not what you need…that I wasn’t there for you. And I’m going to do better. It’s going to get better for you. I promise.”
“I’m tired,” she mumbled, but he saw the tears slip down her cheeks and get absorbed by the pillow.
“I know you are,” he told her, reaching out to put his hand on her arm, needing to touch her somewhere to make sure she was still warm, still alive. “I just wanted to be the one to tell you that you’re gonna be transferred, when you’re ready, to a different hospital. Someplace that can help you.”
“Later, Zach.” Her voice sounded so distant and tiny, much more tired than any seventeen year olds voice had a right to sound.
“The doctor is going to talk to us about them, when you’re feeling a bit better, okay? You’re going to get better.” He wasn’t sure if that’s what she wanted, but he needed to say the words out loud for his own sake, maybe he’d start believing them.
“What the hell’re you doing?” she asked bringing him out of his memory. “I’m on my way out.”
“You just got home,” he said.
“Well, now I’m on my way out. Move your car.”
“In a minute,” he stalled. “I was just going to get something out of the garage.”
“The garage isn’t going anywhere, I am. Move your car,” she said impatiently.
“Chill out.” He cracked a smile, trying charm to stall her. “What’s the hurry? Party ain’t gonna start without you, right?”
“Give me your keys,” she held her hand out, “I’ll move it.”
He patted the pockets of his cut off shorts. “I must have left them upstairs. Wanna go grab them for me? I think I left them on the kitchen counter.”
Bridget stomped up the steps and back inside, glancing quickly around the kitchen for Zach’s keys. She needed to get out of there before he figured out what was happening. Stupid bet! She shouldn’t have said anything and just let him go on being oblivious to what she did. But no, she had to show off! She had to challenge him! Of course he’d look around her room – he couldn’t admit defeat.
She had a little X, really, it wasn’t like she was addicted. She didn’t have to have it like she when she drank, or did the coke. It was just something she could take and have some fun and no one needed to know when she was doing it. If Trevor did find out, he would freak out, but he freaked out about the hint of a drug now. He’d never listen. He’d be furious if he found out. Especially since she went over there and took one before walking inside yesterday, but Zach had her so pissed off, she didn’t want to spoil the whole day. She had to admit, Trevor didn’t notice any difference in her. The sex was amazing – but he wasn’t suspicious. It was just amazing. If he found out? Anything different would be suspect.
She’d kill Zach if he ruined this for her. She walked around the kitchen, and even checked inside some of the cabinets and refrigerator, but couldn’t find the keys. By the time she went outside to tell him, she saw Rik’s car in the driveway and wanted to scream with rage. Rik, of course, saw her immediately and headed towards the house, followed by Zach.
“Where is it?” he asked bounding through the door swiftly. She stood motionless, glaring directly at Zach without saying a word. “Bridget? Where is it?” Rick demanded again, taking hold of her arm and leading her towards her bedroom. “Don’t fuck around with me, Bridget. Where is it?”
“You act like it’s going to jump out and kill you in your sleep! I swear to God, it’s not going to do anything if nobody swallows it!” she grumbled, but she did as she was told, pulling out the small baggie of pills from the drawer in her make-up table.
“Where are the others?” Rik continued, holding the baggie up and peering at the two pills. “And where’s the third in this one?”
“The third?” she asked.
“Zach found three. There’s only two in here and you’re not dumb enough to forget which stash was found, so where’s the other pill?”
“Why is it that I’m sneaking around and taking pills and you believe everything Zach says? Maybe Zach was wrong. Ever think of that?”
“No, because he’s too damn freaked out to forget what he found. So where is it and what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He reached out and pulled her purse from under her arm. “Taking it with you tonight?” He opened the purse and started feeling around the side pockets. “What are you doing, Bridget?”
“Oh, give me,” she pulled the purse from him and reached into her wallet, pulling out the small blue pill. “Here, okay? Happy?”
“Not yet.” He took her by the arm again and guided her to her bathroom where he handed her the pills as they stood over the toilet. “Dump them.” She sighed, rolling her eyes, but dropped the pills into the toilet. “Flush,” he prompted, and she did so.
“Now can I go?” she grumbled.
“Not on your life,” Rik answered, still holding on to her arm. He led her back into her room where Zach was standing silently watching it all happen. “First, you’re going to tell me why the hell you had that in your house. Secondly, you’re going to tell me if you’ve used it. And thirdly, you’re going to apologize to your brother for making him freak out. So, go – answer me.”
“I don’t know,” she sighed, looking up to the ceiling in annoyance.
“What are you? Eleven?” Rik scolded, moving her to the side of her bed and pushing her to sit down. “I don’t know? I don’t know is for Math problems without calculators, it’s not an answer to your own actions because if you don’t know what you’re doing, you have a larger problem than hiding some pills. So, let’s try it again. What are you doing with pills in your possession?”
“I told Zach already! I got them at some stupid party—“
“Repeat after me ‘no thanks.’” He looked at her expectantly.
“No, thanks.”
“I don’t do that.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Not interested.”
“Not interested.”
“Okay, so you can physically say the words. I’m pretty sure you understand their meanings. So, explain to me again why you have those pills in your possession – remembering that you’re not eleven years old, now. What’s the valid reasoning?” She just sighed and looked over at Zach angrily. “Don’t look at him. He did the right thing. And you owe him an apology for bitching at him about all this. You know better. So why do you have them, Bridget?”
“I like the way they make me feel,” she answered defensively. “But it’s not like they’re addictive. I just like the way they make me feel.”
“Anything that alters your emotional state is off limits to an addict, Bridget. You know this! It doesn’t have to be addictive for you to be addicted. Why are you looking to alter your state of mind?”
“Oh my God, it doesn’t have to mean that I’m going into crisis! It could just be for fun. Because I like the way it makes me feel.”
“Is Trevor using, too?” Zach asked.
“No.”
“And we can trust your answer, why? Do you understand why Zach has trust issues with you? Look at the whole production for this. Why are you doing this again, Bridget? One time in rehab wasn’t enough?”
“I don’t need to go back to rehab! I swear it was just twice.”
“Zach, we need to talk,” Rik said to him over his shoulder. “Can you give us the room?” He sat on the floor in front of Bridget and wrapped his arms around his legs, clasping his hands together. “Okay, so what’s going on? You know why he’s freaking out, don’t you? You know this is a big deal, Bridget, otherwise, you wouldn’t have gone through all this to lie about it. Tell me—what’s going on.”
“Rik,” she sighed, falling back onto the mattress, “I swear to you there’s no deep, dark hidden secret. It just makes things feel better. Like, clothes are softer, and touch is more stimulating. Stuff like that. It doesn’t alter your state of mind so you forget what you’re doing or anything. It’s just—God its embarrassing—sex is even more amazing, okay?”
“And Tred doesn’t have any idea you’ve been using X while you’re with him? You think he wouldn’t think it was a big deal if it’s involved in your sex life, Bridge?”
“The sex has been amazing, Rik. I doubt he’d care.”
Rik raised an eyebrow. “Honestly?” She sat up, but slouched. “Remember how you once talked to me about trust? How sex on drugs always felt like a lie because either you or he weren’t in your right frame of mind, and if you weren’t in your right frame of mind, how could you really share the experience? And Jenny? The same Jenny that left you in the alley behind that club puking your guts up because her boyfriend called? That Jenny? What’re you doing, Bridge?”
“She apologized,” Bridget offered weakly.
“Bridge?”
“I’m not falling apart, Rik.”
“I didn’t say you were, you introduced that. But I will say you’re not being very smart.”
“Can we just keep this between us?”
“That you’re not very smart right now?”
“That I wasn’t very smart, yeah. And I’ll apologize to Zach.”
“And?”
“And I’ll skip going out with Jenny and go to a meeting with you?”
“That’s my girl!” Rik sat up and spread his arms, giving her a tight hug. “I’m going to keep my eye on you, and we know now that Zach’s gotten better at picking up your signals, right?” She nodded against him. “So, can this be the end of it? Back on the wagon?”
“Back on the wagon, yes.”
“Can I just ask one more thing?”
“What?”
“Can you put on more than a band-aid and dental floss before going to the meeting?”
She laughed and smacked his head playfully. “You sound so old, Rik. When the hell did that happen?”
“I suppose when your clothes started coming out of the first aid kit.”
Zach waited in the living room, pretending to look out the window, but straining to hear any sound from her room. He almost felt guilty calling Rik, but watching the way he made her dump those pills, he knew it wasn’t a mistake. He kind of wished he had that same kind of authority, but he knew that if he had done the same thing, he would have driven Bridget out of the house completely.
“I can’t talk to you. I don’t want to talk to you.” She was crying but the words were somehow apologetic.
“Someone, Bridget. Talk to someone. Something is wrong. I know it!” She was too drunk to think straight – for the 3rd time this week. “Bridge, this can’t keep happening. You can’t keep going out and getting messed up like this.”
“I can’t do anything!” She threw her sweater to the floor and stumbled over it as Zach looked up and down the hallway waiting for someone to come out. He could hear her stumbling around the room, knocking things over in her temper tantrum. By the time he went into the room, she had only knocked over a few glasses and a lamp, and she was sobbing at the foot of the bed.
“Bridge, hey, come on, you have to calm down. Please? Okay? Calm down.” He knelt in front of her, trying to take her hands.
“Ain’t gonna happen, Zach,” Trevor said from the doorway. “Too far out of her hands. Where was she, do you know?” Bridget fell over on her side and curled into herself, mumbling. “Yeah, probably some kind of cocktail even she doesn’t know what she was taking,” he leaned over and put his hand to her chest, “but I don’t think she’s overdosing.”
“How scared should I be, Tred?” Zach asked, watching Trevor cover her with the bedspread. “You’ve been here. What do I do?”
“She’s not there, yet, Zach. You’ll know when she’s there.” He caught Zach’s eyes briefly and offered a weak smile. “Bridget, Honey? Hey, Bridget?” She turned her head up and a slow, drunken smile crossed her face. “Hi, Sweetie, want to put your head on a pillow, Baby? You’ll be more comfortable, huh?” She at least moved with him as opposed to being dead weight. She reached up and tried putting her hand on his face, but he smiled gently and pulled back. “Know what’s going to happen? You’re gonna close those pretty brown eyes of yours and have a nice, calm sleep, okay?” He kissed her forehead and stepped back from the bed, standing next to Zach. “I like the power of suggestion theory. You know, if they’re freaked out, you can plant something calm in their psyche.”
“No, I don’t know,” Zach answered, walking into the adjoining room, followed by Trevor. “I don’t know anything other than I’m scared, and she’s a mess, and no matter what I say, or what I do, she’s still coming home like that.” He lifted his arm out to the other room.
Trevor sat on the floor, looking between Bridget and Zach pacing at the foot of his bed. “I know. I’ve noticed.”
“Who the hell hasn’t noticed it?” Zach asked. “And just in case you didn’t, she’ll be featured on some entertainment show or newspaper tomorrow. Know what she does?” He motioned to his sister’s room again. “She laughs. She’s like ‘oh, whoops, did I do that?’ Tee-hee-hee. I swear to God I want to end this tour. I so freaking tired of being tired of worrying about her. I just don’t know what to do anymore, Tred. I’d send her away to school or something, but I know she’d only get kicked out. A tour is no place for her, but I can’t leave her home alone if this is what she’s doing supervised. I didn’t sign up for this!” He circled the room, shaking his head. “I didn’t sign up for any of this!”
“I know, man, but what else were you supposed to do? You’re doing the best you can. And it’s not just because I just got out of rehab. I mean, I don’t think everyone that smokes and drinks has a problem, but Bridget does. She may not be able to help herself. She didn’t sign up for any of this either, I don’t think.”
“Z?” She came out into the living room and sat next to him, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m so sorry.” She rested her head against his shoulder, still holding tightly. “I just didn’t want you to freak out all over again.”
“Well—I did. I’m gonna.” He said, refusing to hug her back and kept looking out the window. “I hate it when you act all stupid and shit, Bridge. And that was just stupid.”
“I know,” she agreed, holding tighter. “Thank you for calling Rik. You saw, they were dumped in the toilet and we’re going to a meeting. Tonight. No parties. I promise.”
He wrapped his arms around her loosely and closed his eyes.
“You can’t keep winning.”
“What?”
“Winning.” He looked at her, part wanting to stay angry, part wanting to hold so tight she’d never be out of his sight. “You know, I got arrested just for standing outside of a club. Just standing, while a group of other people I didn’t even know got into a fight. But they arrested me. You? Tred? Drive drunk, stoned – not once did anything happen. No one died. No one was arrested. No one was hurt. Hell, you weren’t ever even pulled over, were you?” She shook her head slowly, biting her lips together. “Didn’t think so. You can’t keep winning, Bridget.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Do you know what happens when you don’t?”
“I might die?” She held tighter.
The first time he went away on tour she was only eight and didn’t want him to go. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, but his bags were in the back of the car and he knew he was getting out of school. She sat on the couch, her arms crossed tightly and scowling and he did just what she did. He hugged her, promising he’d come home soon and even play hopscotch, but she didn’t budge until he told her he wasn’t going to let go until she did.
“I won’t have anyone left to hold on to, Bridge.” He reached out and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead, finally hugging her with a deep sigh of exasperation. “Go to your meeting.”
She stood up and headed back to her room, stopping mid-way. “Zach? Really, I’m sorry.”
As he watched them leave for their meeting, he realized he was tired of ‘sorry.’ He was tired of hearing it, tired of saying it. He wanted it to disappear, so they could just stop looking backwards, repeating and reliving the same stupid mistakes over and over when they were never going to change. Whatever he thought of it, thinking about it wasn’t going to change it. It had to end sometime, didn’t it? They had to get past it, didn’t they? They had to get over it if they were going to heal.
But if she was still hiding things, avoiding him, covering up, and running away, how much healing had she done? How much more healing did she need to do? It had been two years, or so he thought, of sobriety. How wrong was he?