I leaned back against the couch and wiped a hand over my face. I hadn't been crying but I felt like I could, with tears prickling my eyes and burning my nose. I wanted to call Zach and Jenna to compare notes but stopped myself from grabbing the phone.
This was too personal.
The rage I contained in my heart was intense and I grabbed at whatever my hand landed upon. I reeled back and chucked a marble ashtray against the wall, leaving a dent. Within seconds, Goose ran from his bedroom to the living room.
“What the fuck is—” He stopped when he caught a glimpse of the ashtray on the floor. “Why you takin' shit out on my stuff, man? And,” he pointed at the cracked wall and looked back at me, “why the hell are you wrecking the place?”
I shrugged apologetically. “Because my mom's face isn't here.”
“You got mommy issues, too?”
Laughing, I stood from the couch and tucked the letter into my pocket. “I told you, man. I'm a real shit show.”
“You belong on Dr. Phil.”
“Yeah, right?”
He spread his arms out slowly with flourish. “Ex-junkie with mommy and daddy issues dates girl who sees dead people, marries her after two months.”
Laughing and walking into the kitchen, I shook my head. “Yo, people would pay to read that book.”
“I'd see the movie,” Goose agreed, following.
I needed this. After the day and night I'd had at the old apartment, I knew I could use a little time with my friend before getting back to business the next day.
The old apartment.
God, I don't know when I'd ever be used to saying that.
After leaving Zach and Jenna, I had called Goose and asked what he was up to. I hadn't expected much, as it had been late, but he was so surprised to hear from me after months of silence, that he invited me to crash at his apartment for the night.
He sealed the deal by mentioning his case of Coca-Cola.
I reached into the fridge for a can. “Nothin' like a nice, cold can of Coke.”
“Might wanna pick a new drink of choice,” Goose grumbled. “It was ironic before, but being a repeat offender makes it weird.”
Popping the tab, I pursed my lips and nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve got a point there.”
We returned to the living room and sat down. Goose was exhausted after a long night at the bar, but he seemed determined to give me some time. And that's what happens when you make friends in rehab. They understand the loneliness and they get that desperation for a connection.
He was a good guy.
“So, you gonna win the wife back?” he asked, stretching his arms out along the back of the couch.
Nodding, I slurped the first sip and smacked my lips. “Fuck yes. But … I dunno, man. I'm hoping we can make it work. I want to make it work. But my shrink in Boston really stressed how toxic a relationship between two recovering addicts can be. She thinks we'd be destined to relapse because we'd associate the relationship itself with gettin' high.”
His eyes hooded as he nodded. “Smart lady.”
I sighed, plunking the can down on the coffee table. “Yeah. So ... I don’t wanna even say it, but I kinda think she should just, you know, move on. Find someone better for her.”
Goose scoffed, shaking his head. “You really believe there's someone better out there?”
Flattening my hand to my chest, I feigned bashfulness. “Aw, Goosey. I had no idea you felt like that about me. Too bad you're not my type.”
“You're an ass,” he chuckled. “For real. You think there's better?”
“For her?” I put my entire body into the shrug, slapping my hands against my thighs. “I don't know, man. I wanna say no. Like, I fuckin' love her and we're good, you know what I mean? Like, without the drugs, we're really good. But ...” I shook my head, shrugging again. “She had no business gettin' with me in the first place. That was my fault. I had too much shit goin' on and I took her down with me. So, now I feel like, I gotta get my crap in order before I can even think about tryin' to make things work with her.”
Goose raised a brow. “You think she doesn't have shit to deal with?”
“She does, but—”
“Let me tell you something,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I had a lot of shit to